MARLBOROUGH
MARLBOROUGH was the house of Colonel Birchall Parker. It was in its
day, perhaps, the finest house in Virginia, not even excepting the
Governor’s palace at Williamsburgh. It stood upon the summit of a slope
of the shore rising up from the banks of the James River. The trees
in front nearly hid the house from the river as you passed, but the
chimneys and the roof stood up above the foliage, and you caught a
glimpse of the brick façade, and of the elaborate doorway, through an
opening in the trees, where the path led up from the landing-place to
the hall door. The main house was a large two-storied building capped
by a tall, steep roof. From the center building long wings reached out
to either side, terminating at each end in a smaller building or office
standing at right angles to its wing, and, together with the main
house, inclosing on three sides a rather shaggy, grassy lawn. From the
front you saw nothing of the servants’ quarters or outbuildings (which
were around to the rear of the house), but only the imposing façade
with its wings and offices.
Now it was early morning; Colonel Birchall Parker had arisen, and
his servant was shaving him. He sat by the open window in his
dressing-gown, and with slippers on his feet. His wig, a voluminous
mass of finely curled black hair, hung from the block ready for him
to put on. The sunlight came in at the open window, the warm mellow
breeze just stirring the linen curtains drawn back to either side and
bringing with it the multitudinous sounds of singing birds from the
thickets beyond the garden. The bed-clothes were thrown off from a
mountainously high bed, and the wooden steps, down which Colonel Parker
had a little while before descended from his couch to the bare floor,
were still standing beside the curtained bedstead. The room had all the
confused look of having just been slept in.
Colonel Parker held the basin under his chin while the man shaved
him. He had a large, benevolent face, the smooth double chin just now
covered with a white mass of soap-suds. As he moved his face a little
to one side to receive the razor he glanced out of the open window. “I
see the schooner is come back again, Robin,” said he.
“Yes, your honor,” said the man, “it came back last night.”
“Were there any letters?”
“I don’t know, your honor; the schooner came in about midnight, and Mr.
Simms is not about yet.” The man wiped the razor as he spoke and began
whetting it to a keener edge. “Mr. Richard came up with the schooner,
your honor,” said he.
“Did he?”
“Yes, your honor, and Mr. Simms fetched up a lot of new servants with
him. They’re quartered over in the empty store-house now. Will your
honor turn your face a little this way?”
The noises of newly awakened life were sounding clear and distinct
through the uncarpeted wainscoted spaces of the house—the opening and
shutting of doors, the sound of voices, and now and then a break of
laughter.
The great hall and the side rooms opening upon it, when Colonel Parker
came down-stairs, were full of that singularly wide, cool, new look
that the beginning of the morning always brings to accustomed scenes.
Mr. Richard Parker, who had been down from his room some time, was
standing outside upon the steps in the fresh, open air. He turned as
Colonel Parker came out of the doorway. “Well, brother Richard,” said
Colonel Parker, “I am glad to see you; I hope you are well?”
“Thank you, sir,” said the other, bowing, but without any change in his
expression. “I hope you are in good health, sir?”
“Why, yes,” said Colonel Parker, “I believe I have naught to complain
of now.” He came out further upon the steps, and stood at a little
distance, with his hands clasped behind him, looking now up into the
sky, now down the vista between the trees and across the river.
There was a sound of fresh young voices echoing through the upper hall,
then the noise of laughter, and presently the sound of rapid feet
running down the uncarpeted stairway. Then Eleanor Parker burst out of
the house in a gale, caught her father by the coat, and standing on her
tip-toes, kissed both of his cheeks in rapid succession.
Two young girl visitors and a young man of sixteen or seventeen
followed her out of the house, the girls demurely, the young man with
somewhat of diffidence in the presence of Mr. Richard Parker.
“My dear,” said Colonel Parker, “do you not then see your uncle?”
“Why, to be sure I do,” said she, “but how could you expect me to see
anybody until I had first kissed you. How do you do, Uncle Richard?”
and she offered him her cheek to kiss.
Mr. Richard Parker smiled, but, as he always did, as though with an
effort. “Why, zounds, Nell!” said he, “sure you grow prettier every
day; how long do you suppose ’twill be before you set all the gentlemen
in the colony by the ears? If I were only as young as Rodney, yonder,
I’d be almost sorry to be your uncle, except I would then not have the
right to kiss your cheek as I have just done.”
The young girl blushed and laughed, with a flash of her eyes and a
sparkle of white teeth between her red lips. “Why, Uncle Richard,” said
she, “and in that case, if you were as handsome a man as you are now, I
too would be sorry to have you for nothing better than an uncle.”
Just then a negro appeared at the door and announced that breakfast was
ready, and they all went into the house.
Mistress Parker, or Madam Parker, as she was generally called, followed
by her negro maid carrying a cushion, met them as they entered the
hall. The three younger gentlemen bowed profoundly, and Madam Parker
sank almost to the floor in a courtesy equally elaborate.
She was a thin little woman, very nervous and quick in her movements.
She had a fine, sensitive face, and, like her daughter, very dark eyes,
only they were quick and brilliant, and not soft and rich like those of
the young girl.
The morning was very warm, and so, after breakfast was over, the
negroes carried chairs out upon the lawn under the shade of the trees
at some little distance from the house. The wide red-brick front
of the building looked down upon them where they sat, the elder
gentlemen smoking each a long clay pipe of tobacco, while Madam
Parker sat with them talking intermittently. The young people chatted
together in subdued voices at a little distance, with now and then a
half-suppressed break of laughter.
“I hear, brother Richard,” said Colonel Parker, “that Simms brought up
a lot of servants from Yorktown.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Parker, “there were about twenty altogether, I believe.
And that brings a matter into my mind. There was one young fellow I
would like very much to have if you can spare him to me—a boy of about
sixteen or seventeen. I have no house-servant since Tim died, and so,
if you have a mind to part with this lad, sir, I’d like mightily well
to have him.”
“Why, brother Richard,” said Colonel Parker, “if Simms hath no use for
the boy I see no reason why you should not have him. What hath Simms
done with him?”
“He is with the other servants over at the old store-house, I believe,
sir; Simms had them sent there last night. May I send for the lad, that
you may see him?”
“I should be glad to see him,” said Colonel Parker.
* * * * *
Jack had come up from Yorktown packed with the other servants in the
hold of the schooner. The hatch was tilted to admit some light and
air, but he could see nothing of whither he was being taken, and his
only sense of motion was in the slant of the vessel, the wind, and the
rippling gurgle of the water alongside.
He had been wakened from a deep sleep to be marched past a clustering
group of darkly black trees, across a grassy stretch of lawn, in the
silent and profoundly starry night, to a brick building into which he
and his companions were locked, as they had been locked in the old
warehouse at Yorktown.
Now, as he followed the negro through the warm, bright sunlight, he
gazed about him, half bewildered with the newness of everything,
yet with an intense and vivid interest. He had seen really nothing
of Marlborough as he had been marched up from the landing place at
midnight with his companions the night before. As the negro led him
around the end of the building, he gazed up curiously at the wide brick
front. Then he saw that there was a party of ladies and gentlemen
sitting in the shade across the lawn. He followed the negro as the
other led him straight toward the group, and then he halted at a little
distance, not knowing just what was expected of him.
Mr. Richard Parker beckoned to him. “Come hither, boy,” said he, “this
gentleman wants to see you.” Jack obeyed, trying not to appear ungainly
or uncouth in his movements, and feeling that he did not know just how
to succeed.
“Look up, boy; hold up your head,” said a gentleman whom he at once
knew to be the great Colonel Parker of whom he had heard—a large,
stout, noble-looking gentleman, with a broad, smooth chin and a diamond
solitaire pinned in the cravat at his throat. As Jack obeyed he felt
rather than saw that a pretty young lady was standing behind the
gentleman’s chair, looking at him with large, dark eyes. “Where did you
come from?” asked the gentleman.
Jack, with the gaze of everybody upon him, felt shy of the sound of his
own voice. “I came from Southampton,” said he.
“Speak up, boy, speak up,” said the gentleman.
“I came from Southampton,” said Jack again, and this time it seemed to
him that his voice was very loud indeed.
“From Southampton, hey?” said the gentleman. He looked at Jack very
critically for a while in silence. “Well, brother Richard,” said he at
last, “’tis indeed a well-looking lad, and if Simms hath no special use
for him I will let you have him. How long is he bound for?”
“Five years,” said Mr. Parker. “They were all bound for five years. I
spoke to Simms about him yesterday, and he said he could spare him.
Simms gave twenty pounds for him, and I will be willing and glad enough
to pay you that for him.”
“Tut, tut, brother Richard,” said Colonel Parker, “don’t speak to me of
paying for him; indeed, I give him to you very willingly.”
“Then, indeed, sir, I am very much obliged to you. You may go
now, boy.” Jack hesitated for a moment, not knowing clearly if he
understood. “You may go, I said,” said Mr. Richard Parker again. And
then Jack went away, still accompanied by the negro.
The gloomy interior of the store-house struck chill upon him as he
reëntered it from the brightness and heat outside, and once more he
was conscious of the dampness and all-pervading earthy smell. The
transports, huddled together, were dull and silent. One or two of them
were smoking, others lay sleeping heavily, others sat crouching or
leaning against the wall doing nothing—perfectly inert. They hardly
looked up as Jack entered.