How We Should All Be Forgiving
LET us forget the scenes of the foregoing chapters, and turn to something of pleasanter hue. In the meantime, let us freely acknowledge that we live in a land-our democratic south, we mean-where sumptuous living and abject misery present their boldest outlines,--where the ignorance of the many is excused by the polished education of a very few,--where autocracy sways its lash with bitterest absolutism,--where menial life lies prostrate at the feet of injustice, and despairingly appeals to heaven for succour,--where feasts and funerals rival each other,--and when pestilence, like a glutton, sends its victims to the graveyard most, the ball-room glitters brightest with its galaxy. Even here, where clamour cries aloud for popular government, men's souls are most crushed-not with legal right, but by popular will! And yet, from out all this incongruous substance, there seems a genial spirit working itself upon the surface, and making good its influence; and it is to that influence we should award the credit due. That genial spirit is the good master's protection; we would it were wider exercised for the good of all. But we must return to our narrative.
The Rosebrook Villa has assumed its usual cheerfulness; but while pestilence makes sad havoc among the inhabitants of the city, gaiety is equally rampant. In a word, even the many funeral trains which pass along every day begin to wear a sort of cheerfulness, in consequence of which, it is rumoured, the aristocracy-we mean those who have money to spend-have made up their minds not to depart for the springs yet awhile. As for Franconia, finding she could no longer endure M'Carstrow's dissolute habits, and having been told by that very distinguished gentleman, but unamiable husband, that he despised the whole tribe of her poor relations, she has retired to private boarding, where, with the five dollars a week, he, in the outpouring of his southern generosity, allows her, she subsists plainly but comfortably. It is, indeed, a paltry pittance, which the M'Carstrow family will excuse to the public with the greatness of their name.
Harry has returned to the plantation, where the people have smothered him in a new suit of black. Already has he preached three sermons in it, which said sermons are declared wonderful proofs of his biblical knowledge. Even Daddy Daniel, who expended fourteen picayunes in a new pair of spectacles, with which to hear the new parson more distinctly, pronounces the preaching prodigious. He is vehement in his exultation, lavishes his praise without stint; and as his black face glows with happiness, thanks missus for her great goodness in thus providing for their spiritual welfare. The Rosebrook "niggers" were always extremely respectable and well ordered in their moral condition; but now they seem invested with a new impulse for working out their own good; and by the advice of missus, whom every sable son and daughter loves most dearly, Daddy Daniel has arranged a system of evening prayer meetings, which will be held in the little church, twice a week. And, too, there prevails a strong desire for an evening gathering now and then, at which the young shiners may be instructed how to grow. A curiously democratic law, however, offers a fierce impediment to this; and Daddy Daniel shakes his head, and aunt Peggy makes a belligerent muttering when told such gatherings cannot take place without endangering the state's rights. It is, nevertheless, decided that Kate, and Nan, and Dorothy, and Webster, and Clay, and such like young folks, may go to "settings up" and funerals, but strictly abstain from all fandangoes. Dad Daniel and his brother deacons cannot countenance such fiddling and dancing, such break-downs, and shoutings, and whirlings, and flouncing and frilling, and gay ribboning, as generally make up the evening's merriment at these fandangoes, so prevalent on neighbouring plantations about Christmas time. "Da don' mount to no good!" Daniel says, with a broad guffaw. "Nigger what spect t' git hi' way up in da world bes lef dem tings." And so one or two more screws are to be worked up for the better regulation of the machinery of the plantation. As for Master Rosebrook-why, he wouldn't sell a nigger for a world of money; and he doesn't care how much they learn; the more the better, provided they learn on the sly. They are all to be freed at a certain time, and although freedom is sweet, without learning they might make bad use of it. But master has had a noble object in view for some days past, and which, after encountering many difficulties, he has succeeded in carrying out to the great joy of all parties concerned.
One day, as the people were all busily engaged on the plantation, Bradshaw's familiar figure presents itself at the house, and demands to see Harry. He has great good news, but don't want to tell him "nofin" till he arrives at the Villa. "Ah, good man" (Bradshaw's face beams good tidings, as he approaches Harry, and delivers a note) "mas'r specs ye down da' wid no time loss." Bradshaw rubs his hands, and grins, and bows, his face seeming two shades blacker than ever, but no less cheerful.
"Master wants me to preach somewhere, next Sunday,--I know he does," says Harry, reading the note, which requests him to come immediately into the city. He will prepare to obey the summons, Dan and Sprat meanwhile taking good care of the horse and carriage, while Bradshaw makes a friendly visit to a few of the more distinguished cabins, and says "how de" to venerable aunties, who spread their best fare before him, and, with grave ceremony, invite him in to refresh before taking his return journey into the city; and Maum Betsy packs up six of her real smart made sweet cakes for the parson and Bradshaw to eat along the road. Betsy is in a strange state of bewilderment to know why master wants to take the new parson away just now, when he's so happy, and is only satisfied when assured that he will be safely returned to-morrow. A signal is made for Dad Daniel, who hastens to the cabin in time to see everything properly arranged for the parson's departure, and say: "God bless 'um,--good by!"
"Now, what can master want with me?" enquires Harry, as, on the road, they roll away towards the city.
Bradshaw cracks his whip, and with a significant smile looks Harry in the face, and returns: "Don' ax dis child no mo' sich question. Old mas'r and me neber break secret. Tell ye dis, do'h! Old mas'r do good ting, sartin."
"You know, but won't tell me, eh?" rejoins Harry, his manly face wearing a solicitous look. Bradshaw shakes his head, and adds a cunning wink in reply.
It is three o'clock when they arrive at the Villa, where, without reserve, missus extends her hand, and gives him a cordial welcome,--tells him Franconia has been waiting to see him with great patience, and has got a present for him. Franconia comes rushing into the hall, and is so glad to see him; but her countenance wears an air of sadness, which does not escape his notice-she is not the beautiful creature she was years ago, care has sadly worn upon those rounded features. But master is there, and he looks happy and cheerful; and there is something about the house servants, as they gather round him to have their say, which looks of suspiciously good omen. He cannot divine what it is; his first suspicions being aroused by missus saying Franconia had been waiting to see him.
"We must not call him Harry any longer-it doesn't become his profession: now that he is Elder of my plantation flock, he must, from this time, be called Elder!" says Rosebrook, touching him on the arm with the right hand. And the two ladies joined in, that it must be so. "Go into the parlour, ladies; I must say a word or two to the Elder," continued Rosebrook, taking Harry by the arm, and pacing through the hall into the conservatory at the back of the house. Here, after ordering Harry to be seated, he recounts his plan of emancipation, which, so far, has worked admirably, and, at the time proposed, will, without doubt or danger, produce the hoped-for result. "You, my good man," he says, "can be a useful instrument in furthering my ends; I want you to be that instrument!" His negroes have all an interest in their labour, which interest is preserved for them in missus's savings-bank; and at a given time they are to have their freedom, but to remain on the plantation if they choose, at a stipulated rate of wages. Indeed, so strongly impressed with the good results of his prop............