Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Juno pronounced this harangue in an accent of such assured authority, that the colonel never for an instant conceived the possibility of refusing to do what she desired; and the letter was accordingly written in very precise conformity to her instructions, and forthwith delivered into her hands.

  Furnished with this document, she sought and found Edward Bligh, who had suffered much in mind since the dangerous hours passed in Karl Steinmark’s strawberry-field. Though the gossip so confidently repeated at Mount Etna respecting the marriage of Lotte with the young baron was certainly premature, there was already enough of love between them to “show the eyes and grieve the heart” of poor Edward, and to convince him with dreadful torturing certainty that woman’s love, that drop of redeeming sweetness that seems thrown by Providence into the bitter cup of human life to render it bearable to those doomed to quaff it, would never be distilled into his.

  Two subsequent visits, made with trembling hope and sickening fear, had fully convinced him of this; but with the gentle resignation and high courage of his noble nature, he saw in it only a new proof that it was Heaven’s will he should not bind his affections to anything on earth, but hold himself prepared to sacrifice a life, perhaps mercifully made of little value, whenever the duty to which he had devoted himself should demand his doing so.

  Poor Edward! — if the enthusiasm which a worldly scoffer would have called his hobbyhorse did indeed lead him astray — to a degree that indicated a mind diseased, it was a malady which, like the redundant blossom often seen to burst the calix that should retain it, manifested a richness and perfection only too powerful for nature to sustain.

  When Juno reached his forest home, she found him sitting with his Bible open on his little table; but his eye at that moment was not perusing the page spread out before him, but rested as it were on vacancy, with that fixed gaze in which the soul seems to look out farther than the bodily organ can follow it.

  Old Juno was no favourite with Edward; and had not the vehement feelings recently excited, and so quickly checked, left him in a state of such subdued and melancholy gentleness as made him feel it only a fulfilment of his destiny to bear and forbear with all persons, and in all circumstances to which he might be exposed, it is probable that the errand she came to send him on, might not have been so meekly accepted as it was.

  “I see not well how this letter can be likely to benefit Cæsar, my good woman; but I will deliver it to Mr. Steinmark, as you are so earnest with me to do so.”

  “The blessing of Heaven need not be invoked by such as I am, on such as you are,” replied Juno, “or I would kneel down now to ask for it; but, Master Edward, though you have no faith in Juno, you will do, even at her bidding, what will make poor Cresar the safe property of this good and righteous foreigner, instead of leaving him in hourly risk of again becoming the prey of a creole slave driver. Say! — will you not?”

  “I will indeed, Juno, if I have the power to do it. But it is contrary to the principles of Frederick Steinmark to purchase a slave — why therefore should you suppose that he would do it now?”

  “The principles of Frederick Steinmark,” answered Juno, “will never restrain him from doing a good action, however much the manner of it may be foreign to the habits of his life. By redeeming this poor runaway from the peril that hangs over him, the good Frederick Steinmark will not become the thing he abominates — a dealer in human flesh, an impious trampler on the image of God — in one single unholy word, a slaveholder: were he to purchase the whole race, Frederick Steinmark would not be this. It is not, Master Edward, the having possession of a morsel of written paper, which by the wicked laws of this sinful country is made to give one man a right to rob another of all that God bestowed upon him at his birth, — it is not holding this harmless paper, Master Edward, that can turn a good man into that accursed thing, a slave-holder. Even in this land of white man’s sin and black man’s suffering — even in Louisiana, there are some who have purchased a right to protect the negroes who willingly, joyfully, and gratefully work for them — for they are kindly treated. If Frederick Steinmark were a man to doubt that this is possible, I would bid him turn his benevolent eyes, that seem to shed kindness upon all men, — I would bid him turn those gentle reasoning eyes to the Red River; let him look into a wide-spread farm at Alexandria, and he would see that a good man, living in the bosom of his family, may render labour light and servitude a blessing by ruling with a gentle hand and kind heart the race who are doomed to earn their bread by the sweat of their brow. This sight, if he have any scruples as to the righteousness of purchasing Cæsar, may remove them. But your word, Master Edward, might perhaps do more still towards leading him to do this great good — and will you not speak it?”

  Edward listened to the whole of this long speech with the most patient attention, and then said, “You are right in believing that Mr. Steinmark would not necessarily become sinful by obtaining such possession of a slave as the laws of the country have power to give; and I have little doubt that with such an object before him as the rescuing poor Cæsar, he would conquer the repugnance he feels to such a transaction. But I do not comprehend, Juno, how this letter so strangely obtained by you from your master, nor how my advice to him that he should act upon it, can render it possible for him to negotiate the purchase of a runaway slave. You know, Juno, that I do not love tricks and mystery.”

  Old Juno shook her head, and remained for a minute or two quite silent. Had any other so spoken to her, it is probable that her anger and indignation would have been pronounced in no measured terms; but her respect for Edward Bligh was most profound, and her love and reverence for all the sacrifices of safety and of peace which he was making for the unhappy people to whom she belonged, invested him with a sort of sacred authority in her eyes, which rendered it impossible that she should express anger for anything he could say.

  Having subdued the feeling that might have led to disrespectful words, she replied with the utmost deference, “Alas, Master Edward! — how is such a one as I am to work out a good deed amongst the men we have got to deal with except by tricks and seeming mystery? Do you think, young gentleman, that if I were to go to Colonel Dart, or to Mr. Oglevie, and tell them the truth and no more, that all the dollars the good German has honestly won from our rich soil would induce either of them to resign Cæsar to his keeping? — Ah, Master Edward! you know them better than to believe it.”

  “You are right — you are right, and perhaps I have been unjust to you, Juno,” replied Edward kindly, and feeling indeed that she spoke the truth: “I will take this letter to Mr. Steinmark, and will trust to your using such means as you have to make his interference effectual. — Farewell.”

  Juno watched him depart towards Reichland, rejoicing that she had found words to lead him to perform her will, which she certainly knew was a very honest one in this instance at least; but spite of the gladness and even of the triumph that cheered her, a tear dimmed her eye as she looked after him.

  “Too good for earth — too fit for heaven to bide long with us,” she murmured as she turned her steps homeward; and she pondered upon his probable destiny, till she herself almost doubted whether the dark future that seemed to open before her eyes were simply the effect of conjecture, or of a revealing of that which was to come, such as was not given to the minds of others.

  The old woman reached her hut weary and exhausted; but the sight of Cæsar’s ecstasy at her probable success, as she sat beside the grave-like apartment he occupied and recounted all she had done, and all she hoped to do, acted as a restorative; and before she slept, she contrived to make the nervous Colonel Dart despatch a letter by the post, to Oglevie of the paper-factory, Ciceroville, requesting him for very particular reasons to accept the sum of one thousand dollars for Cæsar Bush, which a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Paradise Plantation intended to offer him. The prudent colonel ended his letter, even without the help of Juno, by remarking that he was too well known a disciplinarian for Mr. Oglevie t
o suspect that he meant to encourage a runaway, but that circumstances made, it very desirable that Mr. Steinmark should be obliged in this matter.

  Having thus well completed her day’s work, Juno repaired to Peggy’s hut, and received the reward of her benevolent labours from witnessing the joy her tidings occasioned. She led Phebe home with her as soon as everything appeared quiet, and once more permitted the sable lovers to enjoy the happiness of an interview which not only the gay nature of Cresar, but the really promising condition of their affairs, rendered infinitely happier than the last. Lucky indeed was it for them that their old friend’s measures had been so prompt and so successful, for an event occurred on the morrow which put them both as completely out of the head of the old woman as if they had never existed; and as the relating this will oblige us to follow Juno to New Orleans, it may be stated here, that the negotiation for the purchase of Cæsar being carried on exactly as she had dictated, proved completely successful. Frederick Steinmark paid a thousand dollars into the hands of an agent at Natchez, and received from him in return the documents necessary to give him the legal possession of Cæsar, who accordingly was found by the Steinmark family the day but one following the transaction busily engaged in earthing up sweet potatoes in the garden at Reichland.

  As before this happened old Juno was already on her way to New Orleans, it is probable that all the exertions made for Cæsar would have been in vain had not Edward Bligh shrewdly surmised that in all human probability Phebe knew all about it; so as soon as the business was completed and the transfer of the runaway legally achieved, he repaired to the hut of Peggy, and told her and her daughter what had been done. It will not be doubted that Juno’s “company-chamber” was visited that night, or that the lovers enjoyed the reprieve from danger so unexpectedly obtained. No sooner, indeed, had darkness so far settled upon the woods as to render the annoyance of troublesome questionings tolerably unlikely, than Peggy herself, accompanied by her three daughters, repaired to Cæsar’s hiding-place, and returning thence to the laundry-house, enjoyed altogether an evening of greater happiness than they had tasted since the hour in which the slaves of the unfortunate Henry Bligh were put up for sale.

  Early on the following morning Cæsar was already labouring in the garden of Reichland.

  CHAPTER II.

  IT has been stated that Juno had again left Natchez for New Orleans before the good work in which she had so assiduously exerted herself was completed, and it is necessary that the cause of this sudden departure should be now laid before the reader. Early in the day which followed her last visit to Edward, Juno rambled down to Natchez-under-Hill for the purpose of making a visit to an old free negro who held the post of receiver-general of all letters, packages, messages, and advices of all sorts addressed to her by steam-boat from New Orleans.

  The place was not without profit and advantages of many kinds; but neither, on the other hand, was it by any means a sinecure, — for more negro gossip, creole scandal, and plantation secrets were transmitted to the reputed sorceress by this old man, who never failed to board every boat that approached the landing for the purpose of collecting the different missions they were sure to bring, than it would have been possible for her to obtain by any other means.

  Hardly had Juno entered the hut which served as a mansion to the old man, than he presented to her a sealed packet which had arrived some hours before from New Orleans. She immediately retired, as was her custom whenever news reached her in this form, to a low shed behind the building, where, seated on a block of wood, she broke the seal, and with considerable eagerness set about reading the contents. It came from a person of no small importance in the circle in which he moved at New Orleans, being a free quadroon who for many years had carried on a very prosperous trade as a barber. The letter ran thus:

  “MIS JUNO.

  “This is from your friend Mr. Sam Wilmot. I have big news for you, Miss Juno. As sure as I live to tell it, your own truly-begot great-grand-daughter, Selina Croft by name, is living at this present writing in New Orlines. This will make you star, Mis Juno, and well it may, for it is a grit and unaccountable interference of Providence. So it is, howsomever; and it is of course that you will come up, Mis Juno, and present yourself to your posterity. I question if there is another in this big city that knows as much as I do of this rich and beautiful young lady; and knowing, Mis Juno, the spite of our enemies upon us, I’ll take good care that nobody shall know nothing from me. My three-pair-of-stairs backgranary is not occupied at present, Mis Juno, and you may rent the apartment as before. When you come, I will tell you all particulars how I made the discovery. But the best is, I’m pretty considerable sure that the father as brought her knows no more about her mother’s decent than all the fine creole folks as have made acquaintance with her. It is right and proper the young creature should be made to know her own blood relations; but excepting herself, and maybe her father, if I was you, Mis Juno, I’d jest keep the secret, and you may guess pretty easy why, seeing that lots of whites are making as much ado with her as if she was a right-down princess. It will be for certain, Miss Juno, a pleasure for you to see such a lily-white posterity. Arnt the whites unaccountable, Mis Juno, that cant see how easy it is for black blood to turn white? ’Tis plain enough, that Goda’mighty has no objection whatsumever to it, at any rate. Good-by, Mis Juno, I shall be proud to see you, and I am your true friend

  “and most obedient humble servant,

  “SAM WILMOT”

  The effect produced by this letter on the body and soul of Juno was tremendous. Her limbs shook as if she had been seized by sudden palsy, and for some time all the powers of her mind seemed threatening to leave her. All the strength and intellect left her were just sufficient to enable her to hide the precious letter in her bosom, and to totter forth from the place where she had read it into the open air, without uttering a single word of explanation to her puzzled agent.

  Having reached a retired spot by the riverside, where no eye was near to watch her, she sat or rather laid herself upon the ground, and gave free vent to the emotion that was swelling at her heart. It was long before the vehemence of her agitation subsided sufficiently to enable her fully to be conscious what this news was to her; but as something like strength and composure returned, a feeling of happiness almost too great to bear took possession of her, and there she continued stretched immovable upon the earth for many hours, her memory recalling the long-distant past so vividly as to make all present and actual circumstances appear vague and indistinct by the comparison. Among all other things, the situation of Cæsar was totally and altogether forgotten by her, and she at once decided upon going on board the first boat that should come down the river. The hoarded treasure of many years was always concealed about her person, and no preparation was necessary for her voyage except the obtaining such refreshment as might give her strength to mount to the deck. This she speedily procured, and then sat herself under the old thorn beside the landing, waiting with the stillness of a statue for the vessel that was to convey her to New Orleans.

  The sun was setting when it arrived, but the hours she had waited had not been lost. She had passed this interval in earnest meditation on the great change she believed her hitherto sad destiny was about to undergo, and had so exactly arranged the manner of it, that all nervous agitation subsided, and she held herself prepared for the scenes in which she was to become a principal actor with a degree of firmness and resolution which communicated itself to her outward bearing, and enabled her, the morning after she reached New Orleans, to receive the greeting of Whitlaw with the calmness and composure that have been described.

  Several days elapsed after her arrival before she sought the interview which her heart both longed for and dreaded. It was not fear, however, which caused the delay, but prudence. On reaching New Orleans, she found her friend Mr. Sam Wilmot absent; and as it was chiefly to letters and memoranda in his possession that she must, apply if the truth of her statement should be unhappily questio
ned, she postponed the awful visit till his return.

  Meanwhile, however, she wearied not of walking round and round the house that contained her treasure; but the state and wealth that seemed to reign there shook her confidence, and the poor old woman lived in alternate paroxysms of hope and fear till the terrible moment which brought home to her heart the conviction that she could perhaps exercise a power that might blight the happiness of her descendant for ever, but that never, never could she hope either to give or receive the dear joy that affection alone can bestow, by claiming kindred with her.

  Had such a scene as that described between Juno and the fair Selina taken place some twenty years before, it is probable that it would have driven the old woman into raving madness; but strong as her feelings still were, they were tame and tranquil compared to what they had been — and though her heart was wrung with a degree of anguish not easy to describe, her intellect stood the shock without her manifesting any symptoms of her former malady.

  She shut herself up in her lonely garret, and for some days only left it for the purpose of taking necessary food. At length her mind was made up as to the line of conduct she should pursue, and doing her best to render her appearance decent, she descended the innumerable stairs, and requested a private interview with her friendly host Mr. Sam Wilmot, in his snug back parlour, at the early hour of seven in the morning.

  The request was immediately granted, and as Mr. Wilmot, in common with many others, believed Juno to be free, she was desired to take a seat in his prosperous presence.

  “Mr. Sam,” said Juno, making a powerful effort to restrain all outward demonstration of sorrow, “you have been a good and kind friend to me for many a year, and now at this last trial you have just done all that you thought would best please me. But things have not turned out just quite as I thought they might, and so, Mr. Sam, I expect I had better go home again. But this I cannot do in peace and quiet without your giving me a word of promise, Mr. Sam, that you will never, never, never breathe to mortal man, woman, or child, that the Englishman’s fair daughter is come of negro race. Will you promise this to me, Mr. Sam?”