“The eyes of the world are fastened upon us,” he said. “Our continuing in this position at all is, in many quarters, matter of severe animadversion. Let us therefore show, by the spirit in which we administer our laws, by the impartiality with which we protect their rights, that the master of the helpless African is his best and truest friend.”
It was evident, as Clayton spoke, that he carried the whole of his audience with him. The counsel on the other side felt himself much straitened. There is very little possibility of eloquence in defending a manifest act of tyranny and cruelty; and a man speaks, also, at great disadvantage, who not only is faint-hearted in his own cause, but feels the force of the whole surrounding atmosphere against him.
In fact, the result was, that the judge charged the jury, if they found the chastisement to have been disproportionate and cruel, to give verdict for the plaintiff. The jury, with little discussion, gave it unanimously, accordingly, and so Clayton’s first cause was won.
If ever a woman feels proud of her lover, it is when she sees him as a successful public speaker; and Nina, when the case was over, stood half-laughing, half-blushing, in a circle of ladies, who alternately congratulated and rallied her on Clayton’s triumph.
“Ah,” said Frank Russel, “we understand the magic. The knight always fights well when his lady-love looks down! Miss Gordon must have the credit of this. She took all the strength out of the other side, — like the mountain of loadstone, that used to draw all the nails out of the ship.”
“I am glad,” said Judge Clayton, as he walked home with his wife, “I am very glad that Edward has met with such success. His nature is so fastidious that I have had my fears that he would not adhere to the law. There are many things in it, I grant, which would naturally offend a fastidious mind, and one which, like his, is always idealizing life.”
“He has established a noble principle,” said Mrs. Clayton.
“I wish he had,” said the judge. “It would be a very ungrateful task, but I could have shattered his argument all to pieces.”
“Don’t tell him so!” said Mrs. Clayton apprehensively; “let him have the comfort of it.”
“Certainly I shall. Edward is a good fellow, and I hope, after a while, he’ll draw well in the harness.”
Meanwhile, Frank Russel and Will Jones were walking along in another direction.
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Russel. “You see, Clayton run Bedford down, horse and foot, and made us all as solemn as a preparatory lecture.”
“But he had a good argument,” said Jones.
“To be sure he had — I never knew him to want that. He builds up splendid arguments, always, and the only thing to be said of him, after it’s all over, is, it isn’t so; it’s no such thing. Barker is terrible wroth, I can assure you. He swears he’ll appeal the case. But that’s no matter. Clayton has had his day all the same. He is evidently waked up. Oh, he has no more objection to a little popularity than you and I have, now; and if we could humor him along, as we would a trout, we should have him a firstrate lawyer, one of these days. Did you see Miss Gordon while he was pleading? By George! she looked so handsome I was sorry I hadn’t taken her myself!”
“Is she that dashing little flirting Miss Gordon that I heard of in New York?”
“The very same.”
“How came she to take a fancy to him?”
“She? How do I know? She’s as full of streaks as a tulip; and her liking for him is one of them. Did you notice her, Will? — scarf flying one way, and little curls and pennants and streamers and veil the other! And then, those eyes! She’s alive, every inch of her! She puts me in mind of a sweet-brier bush, winking and blinking full of dewdrops, full of roses, and brisk little thorns, beside! Ah, she’ll keep him awake!”
CHAPTER XXVIII
MAGNOLIA GROVE
JUDGE CLAYTON was not mistaken in supposing that his son would contemplate the issue of the case he had defended with satisfaction. As we have already intimated, Clayton was somewhat averse to the practice of the law. Regard for the feelings of his father had led him to resolve that he would at least give it a fair trial. His own turn of mind would have led him to some work of more immediate and practical philanthropy. He would have much preferred to retire to his own estate, and devote himself, with his sister, to the education of his servants. But he felt that he could not, with due regard to his father’s feelings, do this until he had given professional life a fair trial.
After the scene of the trial which we have described, he returned to his business, and Anne solicited Nina to accompany her for a few weeks to their plantation at Magnolia Grove, whither, as in duty bound, we may follow her.
Our readers will therefore be pleased to find themselves transported to the shady side of a veranda belonging to Clayton’s establishment at Magnolia Grove. The place derived its name from a group of these beautiful trees, in the centre of which the house was situated. It was a long, low cottage, surrounded by deep verandas, festooned with an exuberance of those climbing plants which are so splendid in the southern latitude. The range of apartments which opened on the veranda where Anne and Nina were sitting was darkened to exclude the flies; but the doors, standing open, gave picture-like gleams of the interior. The white, matted floors, light bamboo furniture, couches covered with glazed white linen, and the large vases of roses disposed here and there, where the light would fall upon them, presented a background of inviting coolness.
It was early in the morning, and the two ladies were enjoying the luxury of a tête-à-tête breakfast before the sun had yet dried the heavy dews which give such freshness to the morning air. A small table which stood between them was spread with choice fruits, arranged on dishes in green leaves; a pitcher of iced milk, and a delicate little tête-à-tête coffee-service, dispensing the perfume of the most fragrant coffee. Nor were they wanting those small delicate biscuits, and some of those curious forms of corn-bread, of the manufacture of which every southern cook is so justly proud. Nor should we omit the central vase of monthly roses, of every shade of color, the daily arrangement of which was the special delight of Anne’s brown little waiting-maid Lettice.
Anne Clayton, in a fresh white morning-wrapper, with her pure, healthy complexion, fine teeth, and frank, beaming smile, looked like a queenly damask rose. A queen she really was on her own plantation, reigning by the strongest of all powers, that of love. The African race have large ideality and veneration; and in no drawingroom could Anne’s beauty and grace, her fine manners and carriage, secure a more appreciating and unlimited admiration and devotion. The negro race, with many of the faults of children, unite many of their most amiable qualities, in the simplicity and confidingness with which they yield themselves up in admiration of a superior friend.
Nina had been there but a day, yet could not fail to read in the eyes of all how absolute was the reign which Anne held over their affections.
“How delightful the smell of this magnolia blossom!” said Nina. “Oh, I’m glad that you waked me so early, Anne!”
“Yes,” said Anne, “in this climate early rising becomes a necessary of life to those who mean to have any real, positive pleasure in it, and I’m one of the sort that must have positive pleasures. Merely negative rest, lassitude, and dreaming are not enough for me. I want to feel that I’m alive, and that I accomplish something.”
“Yes, I see,” said Nina, “you are not nominally like me, but really housekeeper. What wonderful skill you seem to have! Is it possible that you keep nothing locked up here?”
“No,” said Anne, “nothing. I am released from the power of the keys, thank fortune! When I first came here, everybody told me it was sheer madness to try such a thing. But I told them that I was determined to do it, and Edward upheld me in it: and you can see how well I’ve succeeded.”
“Indeed,” said Nina, “you must have magic power, for I never saw a household move on so harmoniously. All your servants seem to think and contrive and take an interest in what they ar
e doing. How did you begin? What did you do?”
“Well,” said Anne, “I’ll tell you the history of the plantation. In the first place, it belonged to mamma’s uncle; and not to spoil a story for a relation’s sake, I must say he was a dissipated, unprincipled man. He lived a perfectly heathen life here, in the most shocking way you can imagine; and so the poor creatures who were under him were worse heathen than he. He lived with a quadroon woman, who was violent tempered, and when angry ferociously cruel; and so the servants were constantly passing from the extreme of indulgence to the extreme of cruelty. You can scarce have an idea of the state we found them in. My heart almost failed me; but Edward said, ‘Don’t give it up, Anne; try the good that is in them.’ Well, I confess, it seemed very much as it seemed to me when I was once at a water-cure establishment, — patients would be brought in languid, pale, cold, half dead, and it appeared as if it would kill them to apply cold water; but, somehow or other, there was vital power in them that reacted under it. Well, just so it was with my servants. I called them all together, and I said to them, ‘Now, people have always said that you are the greatest thieves in the world; that there is no managing you except by locking up everything from you. But I think differently. I have an idea that you can be trusted. I have been telling people that they don’t know how much good there is in you; and now, just to show them what you can do, I’m going to begin and leave the closets and doors, and everything, unlocked, and I shall not watch you. You can take my things, if you choose; and if, after a time, I find that you can’t be trusted, I shall go back to the old way.’ Well, my dear, I wouldn’t have believed myself that the thing would have answered so well. In the first place, approbativeness is a stronger principle with the African race than almost any other; they like to be thought well of. Immediately there was the greatest spirit in the house, for the poor creatures, having suddenly made the discovery that somebody thought they were to be trusted, were very anxious to keep up the reputation. The elder ones watched the younger; and, in fact, my dear, I had very little trouble. The children at first troubled me going into my store-closet and getting the cake, notwithstanding very spirited government on the part of the mammies. So I called my family in session again, and said that their conduct had confirmed my good opinion; that I always knew they could be trusted, and that my friends were astonished to hear how well they did; but that I had observed that some of the children probably had taken my cake. ‘Now, you know,’ said I, ‘that I have no objection to your having some. If any of you would enjoy a piece of cake, I shall be happy to give it to them, but it is not agreeable to have things in my closet fingered over — I shall therefore set a plate of cake out every day, and anybody that wishes to take some I hope will take that.’ Well, my dear, my plate of cake stood there and dried. You won’t believe me, but in fact it wasn’t touched.”
“Well,” said Nina, “I shouldn’t think you could have had our Tomtit here! Why, really this goes beyond the virtue of white children.”
“My dear, it isn’t such a luxury to white children to be thought well of, and have a character. You must take that into account. It was a taste of a new kind of pleasure, made attractive by its novelty.”
“Yes,” said Nina, “I have something in me which makes me feel this would be the right way. I know it would be with me. There’s nothing like confidence. If a person trusts me, I’m bound.”
“Yet,” said Anne, “I can’t get the ladies of my acquaintance to believe in it. They see how I get along, but they insist upon it that it’s some secret magic, or art, of mine.”
“Well, it is so,” said Nina. “Such things are just like the divining rod; they won’t work in every hand; it takes a real, generous, warm-hearted woman, like you, Anne. But, could you carry your system through your plantation, as well as your house?”
“The field-hands were more difficult to manage, on some accounts,” said Anne, “but the same principle prevailed with them. Edward tried all he could to awaken selfrespect. Now, I counseled that we should endeavor to form some decent habits before we built the cabins over.
I told him they could not appreciate cleanliness and order. ‘Very likely they cannot,’ he said, ‘but we are not to suppose it;’ and he gave orders immediately for that pretty row of cottages you saw down at the quarters. He put up a large bathing-establishment. Yet he did not enforce at first personal cleanliness by strict rules. Those who began to improve first were encouraged and noticed; and as they found this a passport to favor, the thing took rapidly. It required a great while to teach them how to be consistently orderly and cleanly even after the first desire had been awakened, because it isn’t every one that likes neatness and order who has the forethought and skill to secure it. But there has been a steady progress in these respects. One curious peculiarity of Edward’s management gives rise to a good many droll scenes. He has instituted a sort of jury trial among them. There are certain rules for the order and well-being of the plantation, which all agree to abide by; and in all offenses the man is tried by a jury of his peers. Mr. Smith, our agent, says that these scenes are sometimes very diverting, but on the whole there’s a good deal of shrewdness and sense manifested; but he says that, in general, they incline much more to severity than he would. You see, the poor creatures have been so barbarized by the way they have been treated in past times, that it has made them hard and harsh. I assure you, Nina, I never appreciated the wisdom of God, in the laws which he made for the Jews in the wilderness, as I have since I’ve tried the experiment myself of trying to bring a set of slaves out of barbarism. Now, this that I’m telling you is the fairest side of the story. I can’t begin to tell you the thousand difficulties and trials which we have encountered in it. Sometimes I’ve been almost worn out and discouraged. But then, I think, if there is a missionary work in this world, it is this.”
“And what do your neighbors think about it?” said Nina.
“Well,” said Anne, “they are all very polite, well-bred people, the families with whom we associate; and such people, of course, would never think of interfering, or expressing a difference of opinion, in any very open way; but I have the impression that they regard it with suspicion. They sometimes let fall words which make me think they do. It’s a way of proceeding which very few would adopt, because it is not a money-making operation, by any means. The plantation barely pays for itself, because Edward makes that quite a secondary consideration. The thing which excites the most murmuring is our teaching them to read. I teach the children myself two hours every day, because I think this would be less likely to be an offense than if I should hire a teacher. Mr. Smith teaches any of the grown men who are willing to take the trouble to learn. Any man who performs a certain amount of labor can secure to himself two or three hours a day to spend as he chooses; and many do choose to learn. Some of the men and the women have become quite good readers, and Clayton is constantly sending books for them. This, I’m afraid, gives great offense. It is against the law to do it; but as unjust laws are sometimes lived down, we thought we would test the practicability of doing this. There was some complaint made of our servants, because they have not the servile, subdued air which commonly marks the slave, but look, speak, and act, as if they respected themselves. I’m sometimes afraid that we shall have trouble; but then, I hope for the best.”
“What does Mr. Clayton expect to be the end of all this?” said Nina.
“Why,” said Anne, “I think Edward has an idea that one of these days they may be emancipated on the soil, just as the serfs were in England. It looks to me rather hopeless, I must say; but he says the best way is for some one to begin and set an example of what ought to be done, and he hopes that in time it will be generally followed. It would, if all men were like him; but there lies my doubt. The number of those who would pursue such a disinterested course is very small. But who comes there? Upon my word, if there isn’t my particular admirer, Mr. Bradshaw!”
As Anne said this, a very gentlemanly middle-aged man came up on
horseback, on the carriage-drive which passed in front of the veranda. He bore in his hand a large bunch of different-colored roses; and alighting, and delivering his horse to his servant, came up the steps and presented it to Anne.
“There,” said he, “are the first fruits of my roses, in the garden that I started in Rosedale.”
“Beautiful,” said Anne, taking them. “Allow me to present to you Miss Gordon.”
“Miss Gordon, your most obedient,” said Mr. Bradshaw, bowing obsequiously.
“You are just in season, Mr. Bradshaw,” said Anne, “for I’m sure you couldn’t have had your breakfast before you started; so sit down and help us with ours.”
“Thank you, Miss Anne,” said Mr. Bradshaw, “the offer is too tempting to be refused.” And he soon established himself as a third at the little table, and made himself very sociable.
“Well, Miss Anne, how do all your plans proceed — all your benevolences and cares? I hope your angel ministrations don’t exhaust you.”
“Not at all, Mr. Bradshaw; do I look like it?”
“No, indeed! but such energy is perfectly astonishing to us all.”
Nina’s practiced eye observed that Mr. Bradshaw had that particular nervous, restless air which belongs to a man who is charged with a particular message, and finds himself unexpectedly blockaded by the presence of a third person. So, after breakfast, exclaiming that she had left her crochet-needle in her apartment, and resisting Anne’s offer to send a servant for it, by declaring that nobody could find it but herself, she left the veranda. Mr. Bradshaw had been an old family friend for many years, and stood with Anne almost on the easy footing of a relation, which gave him the liberty of speaking with freedom. The moment the door of the parlor was closed after Nina, he drew a chair near to Anne, and sat down, with the unmistakable air of a man who is going into a confidential communication.
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 98