An Unofficial Patriot

by Helen H. Gardener

  CHAPTER VI.

  _"My conscience whispers."_--Shakespeare.

  But at last the crisis came. One of the girls--Sallie, a faithfulcreature--had married "Bradley's John," and now John was about to besold and sent to Georgia. Either John must be separated from his wifeand child, or Sallie must be sold, or Mr. Davenport must buy John andkeep him here! The final issue had come! John begged to be bought.Sallie pleaded not to be allowed to be sold, nor to be separated fromher husband. Katherine agreed to plead for Sallie, who had been her ownplaymate ever since she could remember.

  "Git Mos' Grif ter buy John, Mis' Kate! Fo' God's sake, Mis' Kate,git'im ter buy John! Yoh kin. I knows mon'sous well dat yoh kin! Hegwine ter do jes' what yoh tell 'im ter. I knows dat he is, Mis' Kate!"

  Mr. Davenport was in his study. Katherine had explained the case to himfully, and Sallie's black face peered in behind him, with anxious eyes,watching and listening to her mistress.

  "Katherine, I cannot! I cannot pay money for a human being. I haveyielded, step by step, to what I felt was wrong long ago, until now Iam caught in the tangled threads of this awful system--but I cannot! I_cannot_ pay money for a human soul!"

  Suddenly Sallie fell at his feet, and, swaying to and fro, swung hersturdy frame like a reed in the wind.

  "Oh, Mos' Grif, fo' God's sake, buy John! Ain't yo' got no mussy, Mos'Grif? Don' let dat Mos' Bradley sen' John 'way off dar! I gwine ter dieright heah, if yo' don' hep me, Mos' Grif! Ain't I been a good girl?Ain't I nus de chillun good, an' did'n I pull Mos' Beverly outen decrick when he fall in an' wus mose drownded? Oh, fo' Christ's sake, Mos'Grif, buy my John! He gwine ter wuk fo' yoh all his life long, an' hegwine ter be good!"

  She swayed and wept and moaned. She held her baby to her breast andcried out for John, and then she held it out toward Griffith and staredthrough streaming eyes at his face to see if he had relented. And stillGriffith was silent. His teeth were set tight together, and his nailscut his palms, but he said not a word.

  "Mos' Grif, Mos' Grif! what did God A'mighty gib yoh all dis lan' an'houses an' money fo'? What He gib yoh my Mis' Katherine fo'?'Cause Heknow yoh gwine ter be good an' kine, an'--an' dat yoh gwine ter begood ter _us!_ Mos' Grif, de good Lawd ain't fo'got we alls des kase weblack!"

  She rolled the baby on the floor beside her and grasped both of hermaster's clenched hands, and struggled to open them as she talked. Sheseemed to think if they would but relax that he would yield.

  "Mos' Grif, we bofe gwine ter wuk fo' yoh, an' pray fo' yoh, and datbaby, dar, gwine ter wuk an' pray fo' yoh all ouh lifes long--all dedays ob ouh lifes, des fo' dat little, teenchy six hund'ud dollahs, whatMos' Bradley got ter hab fo' John! All ouh lifes long! All ouh lifeslong, we gwine ter wuk and pray fo' yoh, des fo' dat little, teenchy sixhund'ud dollahs!!"

  Mrs. Davenport put her hand on her husbond's shoulder. Her eyes were wetand her lips trembled.

  "Griffith, what harm can it do? And see how _much_ good! Griffith, wewill _all_ love you better if you will. I can't bear to see Sallie theway she has been these last two months--ever since it was decided tosell John to that man when he comes. It is heart-breaking. You know,darling, she played with me ever since we were babies, and she has been_so_ good to my children--_our_ children, Griffith!" She lowered hervoice to a mere whisper: "Can God want you to be so cruel as this,Griffith?"

  Mr. Davenport had never dreamed that anything he might feel it his dutyto do would seem to his wife like cruelty. It hurt him sorely. He lookedup at her with a drawn face.

  "Katherine," he said, "let us give Sallie her freedom, and let her gowith John."

  "No, no, no, no! I ain't gwine ter go wid dat man! I ain't gwine terbe no free wife nigger, 'pendin' on him! I ain't gwine ter leabe Mis'Kath'rine, nedder!" She arose in her fear, which was turning to wrath."Mis' Kate, yoh ain't gwine ter let him gib me away, is yoh? I don'belong to nobody ter gib away, but des ter my Mis' Kate, an' she ain'tgwine ter gib me 'way arter I done nus her chillun an' save de life ofMos' Beverly! Dat ain't dekine o' lady my Mis' Kate is! O Mis' Kate,Mis' Kate! I done wisht yoh'd a-gone and married dat Mos' Tom Harrisondat time wat'e ax you! _He_ don't lub money dat much dat he can't spahra little six hund'ud dollahs ter sabe me an' John an'--an'--an' dis heahbaby!"

  She caught up the baby from the floor again and held it toward hermaster.

  "Dar! take hit an' kill hit fus' as well as las'! kase _I_ gwine terdie, an' hit gwine ter be my Mos' Grif dat kill bofe of us. God gwineter know'bout dat! John gwine ter tell'im! Jesus gwine ter know dat sixlittle hund'ud dollahs is wuf more ter my Mos' Grif dan me an' yoh an'John," she moaned, holding the baby up in front of her. "All free, bofeob us, ain't wuf dat little much t' ouh Mos' Grift All free, bofe obus! A little, teenchy, ugly six hund'ud dollahs! He radder hab hit inde bank er in de desk er in he pocket--dat little six hund'ud dollahswhat's mo' bigger dan _all_ ob us--an' mo' bigger dan Mis' Kate's lub!"She fell to sobbing again. "Des dat little much! Des dat little much!"she moaned. "All ob us got ter die fer des dat little much! An' Mos'Grif, he don' care. He lub dat little much money mo' dan wat he do _all_ob us, countin' in Mis' Kate's lub wid de res'!"

  His wife had gone to her chair and was holding a handkerchief to herface. He could see her lips and chin tremble.

  "I will buy John, Sallie, if------"

  Sallie grasped the two hands again. They were relaxed and cold.

  "I knowed hit! I knowed hit! O good, kind Jesus! O Lord, Saviour! deyain't no _if!_ Dey ain't no if! My Mos' Grif gwine ter do hit. Dey ain'tno if lef in dem han's! My Mos' Grif gwine ter buy John!" and she fellon her knees again and sobbed for joy. She caught the little black babyup from the floor where it lay, laughing and kicking its toes in theair, and crushed it so close to her breast that it cried out and thenset up a wail. Sallie stopped weaving her body to and fro, and tried tosmile through her tears.

  "Des listen ter dat fool baby! Hits oryin' fo' des a little hu't likedat, an' I only des choke hit wif my arms! Mos' Grif done choke my hawtout vrid grief, an' now he done strangle me wid joy, befo' I got tercry, chile! Yoah po' mammy's hawt done bus' wide open wid joy now. Dat'swhat make I can't talk no sense, Mos' Grif. I des wants ter yell. ButMis' Katherine, she know. I des kin see dat she do. _She_ know dat Ifeel des like I gwine ter bos' plum' down ter my chist. She know!"

  She laid the baby down again and suddenly held up both arms toward hermaster. Her voice was a wail.

  "Tell me dat dey ain't no _if_ lef in your hawt, Mos' Grif! I knows datdey ain't, but I got ter heah yo' _say_ dat dey ain't, an' den I kingo!"

  "I will buy John, Sallie. There is no if," he said; and Katherine threwher arms around his neck and looked at him through tears of joy.

  That night the Rev. Griffith Davenport prayed long and earnestly that hemight be forgiven for this final weakness. He felt that his moral fiberwas weakening. He had broken the vow taken so long ago. He felt that thebonds were tightening about him, and that it would be harder thanever to cleanse his soul from what he had grown to feel was an awfulwrong--this ownership, and now this money purchase, of a human soul.

  "I have gone the whole length," he sighed to himself. "I have at last,with my eyes open, with my conscience against me, done this wrong! Ihave paid money for a human being. I know it is a wrong--I know--I know,and yet I have done it! God help me! God forgive me! I cannot see myway! I cannot see my way!"

  In the distance, as he arose from his knees, there floated in throughthe open window the refrain from Sallie's song, as she moved about thequarters:--

  An' deys no mo' trouble, an' deys no mo' pain, An' deys no mo' trouble fo' me, fo' me! An' deys no mo' sorrer, an' no mo' pain-- Oh, deys no mo' trouble fo' me, f-o-h-h m-e-e-e!

  I libs on de banks ob de golden shoah, Oh, I libs in de promise' lan'! An' I sez to de Lawd, when He opens the doah, Dat deys no mo' trouble fo' me!

  De Lawd He says, when he took my han', "Enter into de gates ob res'!" An' He gib me a harp, an' I jines de ban', Fo' de
ys no mo' sorrer fer me!

  Lippy Jane was dancing, on the back porch, to the rhythm of the distantsong, and two of the black boys stopped in their race with Beverly, overthe lawn, to take up the chorus--"Oh, deys no mo' trouble fo' me, f-o-hm-e!"

  But, in spite of his prayer for "light and leading," as he wouldhave called it, Mr. Davenport felt that his moral fiber was, indeed,weakening, and yet he could not see his way out of the dilemma. He haddefinitely decided so long ago now that he could not remember when hehad thought otherwise, that for one in his position, at least, even themere ownership of slaves could not be right. He recalled that it hadcome to him at first in the form of purchase and sale, and it had seemedto him that under no conditions could he be forced into that form of thecomplication; but a little later on he decided that the mere ownershipinvolved moral turpitude for one of his denomination, at least, if hewas in deed and in truth following the leadership of the Christ.

  When first he had agreed to take part of his father's slaves, therefore,he had made himself feel that it was right that he should assume a partof the old Major's burdens as his son and trustee, only, and that therewas to be no transfer of property. That this service was his father'sdue and that he should give it freely seemed plain to him. Katherine'sslaves he had always thought of as hers alone--not at all as his; butever since the old Major had died and the will had settled beyond aquibble that the Rev. Griffith Davenport was himself, in deed and intruth "Mos' Grif" to all these dependent creatures, it had borne moreand more heavily upon his conscience. He had tried to think and plansome way out of it and had failed, and now he had been forced to facethe final issue--the one phase which he had felt could never touchhim,--the purchase for money of a black man, and he had yielded atthe first test! His heart had outweighed his head and his consciencecombined, and the line he had fixed so long ago as the one boundary ofthis evil which _he_ could never pass, and which, thank God, no one elsecould thrust upon him, was obliterated, and he stood on the far sidecondemned by his whole nature! In this iniquity from which he had felthis hands should forever be free, they were steeped! He felt wounded andsore and that a distinct step downward had been taken, and yet he askedhimself over and over again what he could have done in the matter thatwould not have been far worse. He slept little. The next day when hewent to Mr. Bradley to buy John his whole frame trembled and he feltsick and weak.

  His neighbor noticed that he was pale, and remarked upon it, and thenturned the subject to the matter in hand which Sallie had duly reportedan hour after she had won and her master had lost the great moralcontest. For it cannot be denied that, all things considered.

  Sallie had won a distinct victory for the future moral life of herselfand for John and the baby.

  So complicated are our relations to each other and to what we arepleased to call right and wrong in this heterogeneous world, that indoing this Sallie had forced her master into a position which seemed tohim to cancel his right to feel himself a man of honor and a credit tothe religion in which he believed he had, so far, found all his loftiestideals. He could plainly see, now, that this phase of the terribleproblem would be sure to arise and confront him again and again as timewent on, and his heart ached when he felt that he had lost his graspupon the anchor of his principles and that the boundary lines of hisethical integrity were again becoming sadly confused in a mind he hadgrown to feel had long ago clearly settled and defined them.

  "You look as pale as a ghost. Better try a little of Maria's blackberrycordial? No? Do you good, I'm sure, if you would," said Mr. Bradley."You're taking this thing altogether too much to heart, sir. Whatpossible difference can it make to John whether you pay for him orwhether he had come to you as the others did? If yo'll will allow me tosay so, I think it is a ridiculous distinction. Somebody paid for theones you've got. If you'll allow an old neighbor to make a suggestion,I think you read those Yankee papers altogether too much and tooseriously. It perverts your judgment. It's a good sight easier for thosefellows up there to settle this question than it is for us to do it.They simply don't know what they are talking about, and we do. With themit's all theory. Here it's a cold fact. What in the name of common sensewould they have? Suppose we didn't own and provide for and direct allthese niggers, what on earth would become of'em? Where would they getenough to eat? You know as well as I do there is nothing on this earthas helpless and as much to be pitied as a free nigger. They don't knowhow to take care of themselves, and nobody is going to hire one. What inthunder do people want us to do? Brain 'em?"

  "Oh, I know, I know," said Mr. Davenport, helplessly, looking far offinto the beautiful valley, with its hazy atmosphere and its rich fieldsof grain. "I've thought about it a thousand times, and a thousand timesit has baffled me. I'm not judging, now, for you, Mr. Bradley, not inthe least. I feel myself too thoroughly caught in the meshes of oursocial fabric to presume to unravel it for other people. But--but in_my_ position--for myself--it seems a monstrously wrong thing for meto count out this money and pay it over for John, just as if he were ahorse. It makes me feel sick--as I fancy a criminal must feel after hisfirst crime." Mr. Bradley laughed.

  "You don't look it, Davenport! Criminal! Ha, ha, ha, ha! that's rich!"

  Griffith moved uneasily and did not join the laugh which still convulsedhis neighbor.

  "For _me_ it is wrong--distinctly, absolutely wrong. It is a terriblething for me to say--and still do it--I, a preacher of God! For you, Icannot judge. 'Judge not, that ye be not judged,' is what I always thinkin this matter. But for me, for _me_ it is not right--and yet what can Ido?"

  Mr. Bradley laughed again, partly in amusement and partly in derision,at what he looked upon as the preacher's unworldly view, and what hespoke of with vexation to others as "Davenport's damned foolishness,"which had, of late, grown to be a matter of real unrest to theneighborhood, in which it was felt that the influence of such opinionscould not fail to be dangerous to social order and stability. It was asif you or I were to spring the question of free land or free money ina convention of landlords and bankers. Or, if you please, like thearguments for anarchy or no government addressed to the "Fourthward," or the members of Congress. It was, in short, subversive of theestablished order of things, and neither you, nor I, nor they,accept quite gracefully such propositions, if in their application toourselves, they would be a sore and bitter loss--if it would render lesssecure and lofty our seat on the social or political throne. We revoltand we blame the disturber of the old established order of things--theorder, which having been good enough for our fathers is surely goodenough for you and for me. In short, was not the way in religion and insocial order of our fathers far the better way? Is not the better wayalways that of the man who owns and rides in the carriage? If you willask him--or if you are he--you will learn or see that there is not theleast doubt of the fact. If you should happen to ask the man whowalks, you may hear another story--if the man who walks happens to bea philosopher; but as all pedestrians are not philosophers and sinceacquiescence is an easy price to pay for peace, it may happen that theman in the carriage will be corroborated by the wayfarer whom his wheelshave run down.

  And so, my friend, in the year 1852, had you been sitting counting outthe six hundred dollars which must change hands to enable John to playwith the little black baby on his knee, after his day's work was done,and to keep Sallie from the pitiful fate she dreaded, it is to bequestioned if you would not have agreed with Mr. Bradley in his covertopinion that "Davenport's squeamishness was all damned nonsense," andthat he might far better stop reading those Yankee newspapers. But bethat as it may, the deed was done. The transfer was made, and the Rev.Griffith Davenport rode home with a sad heart and troubled conscience.He did not sing nor even hum his favorite hymns as he rode. His usuallyradiant face was a study in perplexity. When he passed the cross-roadshe did not whistle to the robin who always answered him.

  Selim's successor and namesake slackened his gait and wondered. Then hejogged on, and when he stopped at the home "stile" and Griffith st
illsat on his back, apparently oblivious of the fact that the journey wasat an end, Selim whinnied twice before the responsive pat fell upon hisglossy neck.

  Jerry ran out. "Dinnah's raidy, Mos' Grif. Mis' Kath'rine she been awaitin' foh yoh."

  The rider roused himself and dismounted, more like an old man than likehis cheery, jovial, alert self.

  "Is that so? Is it dinner-time already?" he asked absently. "Feed him,but don't put him up. I may want him again after dinner."

  "You ain't sick, is you, Mos' Grif?"

  "No, no, boy, I'm not sick," he said, and then recognizing the look ofanxiety on the faithful fellow's face: "What made you ask that?"

  "Yoh look so monst'ous lemoncholly, Mos' Grif. Hit ain't seem likeyo'se'f. I des fought dey mus' be somp'in de mattah wid yo' insides."

  Mr. Davenport laughed and snapped the riding whip at the boy. Jerrydodged the stroke, but rubbed the place where it was supposed to fall.

  "Lemoncholly, am I? I'll lemoncholly you, you rascal, if you don't justknock off and go fishing this afternoon. I shan't need you with me."

  He was half way to the house when he called back: "Bring me a nice messof trout, boy, and you'll see my insides, as you call'em, will be allright. It's trout I need. Now mind!"

  And Jerry was comforted.