As the sun was sinking across the gray waters of the river, reflecting
in its silver surface a riot of purple and scarlet, the master of
Arlington sat in thoughtful silence holding the fateful Book of the
Slave in his hand. He had promised his friend, Edmund Ruffin, to give
him an answer early next week as to a public statement.
He was puzzled as to his duty. To his ready protest that he was not a
politician his friend had instantly replied that his word would have ten
times the weight for that reason. So deep was his brooding he did not
notice the two boys in a heated argument at the corner of the house.
Robbie Lee had drawn his barefoot friend, John, thus far. He had balked
and refused to go farther.
"Come on, John," Robbie pleaded.
"I'm skeered."
"Scared of what?"
"Colonel Lee."
"Didn't you come to see him?"
"I thought I did."
"Well, didn't ye?"
"Yes."
"Come on, then!"
"No--"
"What you scared of him for?"
"He's a great man."
"But he's my Papa."
"He don't want to be bothered with little boys."
"Yes, he does, too. He hears everything I've got to say to him."
"Ain't you skeered of him?"
"No!"
Robbie seized John's hand again and before he could draw back dragged
him to his father's side.
Lee turned the friendliest smile on John's flushed face and won his
confidence before a word was spoken.
"Well, Robbie, what's your handsome little friend's name?"
"John Doyle, Papa."
"Your father lives on the farm just outside our gate, doesn't he?"
"Yessir," the boy answered eagerly.
His embarrassment had gone. But it was hard to begin his story. It had
seemed easy at first, the need was so great. Now it seemed that he had
no right to make the request he had in his heart.
He hung his head and dug his big toe in the gravel.
Robbie hastened to his rescue.
"John wants to tell you something, Papa," he began tenderly.
"All right," Lee cheerfully answered as he drew one boy within each arm
and hugged them both. "What can I do for you, Johnnie?"
"I dunno, sir. I hope you can do somethin'."
"I will, if I can. I like to do things for boys. I was a little boy once
myself and I know exactly how it feels. What is it?"
Again the child hesitated.
Lee studied the lines of his finely molded face and neck and throat. A
handsomer boy of ten he had never seen. He pressed his arm closer and
held him a moment until he looked up with a tear glistening in his blue
eyes.
"Tell me, sonny--"
"My Ma's been cryin' all day, sir, and I want to do somethin' to help
her--"
He paused and his voice failed.
"What has she been crying about?"
"We've lost our home, sir, and my daddy's drunk."
"You've lost your home?"
"Yessir. The sheriff come this mornin'. And he's goin' to put us out.
Ma's most crazy. I ain't been a very good boy here lately--"
"No?"
"No, sir. I've been runnin' away and goin' fishin' and hurtin' my Ma's
feelin's and now I wish I hadn't done it. I heard her sayin' this
mornin' while she wuz cryin', that you wuz the only man she knowed on
earth who could help us. She was afeared to come to see you. And I
slipped out to tell ye. I thought if I could get you to come to see us,
maybe you could tell Ma what to do and that would make up for my hurtin'
her so when I run away from my lessons this week."
The Colonel gently pressed the boys away and rose with quick decision.
"I'll ride right up, sonny, and see your mother."
"Will you, Colonel Lee?" the child asked with pathetic eagerness.
"Just as soon as I can have my horse saddled."
Lee turned abruptly into the house and left the boy dazed. He threw his
arms around Robbie, hugged him in a flash and was gone. Up the dusty way
to the gate the little bare feet flew to tell glad tidings to a lonely
woman.
She stood beside the window looking out on the wreck of her life in a
stupor of wordless pain. She saw her boy leap the fence as a hound and
rushed from the house in alarm to meet him.
He was breathless, but he managed to gasp his message.
"Ma--Ma--Colonel Lee's comin' to see you!"
"To see me?"
"Yes'm. I told him we'd lost our home and he said he'd come right up.
And he's comin', too--"
The mother looked into the child's flushed face, saw the love light in
his eyes and caught him to her heart.
"Oh, boy, boy, you're such a fine young one--my baby--as smart as a
whip. You'll beat 'em all some day and make your poor old mother proud
and happy."
"I'm going to try now, Ma--you see if I don't."
"I know you will, my son."
"I'll never run away again. You see if I do."
The boy stopped suddenly at the sight of Colonel Lee swiftly
approaching.
"Run and wash your face," the mother whispered, "and tell your brothers
to put on clean shirts. I want them to see the Colonel, too."
The boy darted into the house.
The woman looked about the yard to see if there were any evidences of
carelessness. She had tried to keep it clean. The row of flowers that
flamed in the beds beside the door was the finest in the county. She
knew that. She was an expert in the culture of the prolific tall cosmos
that blooms so beautifully in the Indian summers of Old Virginia.
A cur dog barked.
"Get under the house, sir!" she commanded.
The dog continued to look down the road at the coming horseman.
"Get under the house, I say--" she repeated and the dog slowly obeyed.
She advanced to meet her visitor. He hitched his horse to a swinging
limb outside the gate and hurried in.
No introduction was necessary. The Colonel had known her husband for
years and he had often lifted his hat to his wife in passing.
He extended his hand and grasped hers in quick sympathy.
"I'm sorry to learn of your great misfortune from your fine boy, Mrs.
Doyle."
The woman's eyes filled with tears in spite of her firm resolution to be
dignified.
"He _is_ a fine--boy--isn't he, Colonel?"
"One of the handsomest little chaps I ever saw. You should be proud of
him."
"I am, sir."
She drew her figure a bit higher instinctively. The movement was not
lost on the keen observer of character. He had never noticed before the
distinction of her personality. In a simple calico dress, and forty
years of age, she presented a peculiarly winsome appearance. Her
features were regular, and well rounded, the coloring of cheeks and
neck and hands the deep pink of perfect health. Her eyes were a bright
glowing brown. They were large, soulful eyes that spoke the love of a
mother. She might scold her husband if provoked. But those eyes could
never scold a child. They could only love him into obedience and
helpfulness. They were shining mother eyes.
Lee studied her in a quick glance before speaking. He knew instinctively
that he could trust her word.
"Is there anything I can do, Mrs. Doyle?"
"Oh, I hope so, sir. My man's gone all to pieces to-day. He's
good-hearted and kind if I do have to say it myself. But when the
sheriff come to put us out, he just flopped and quit. And then he got
drunk. I don't blame him much. If I hadn't been a woman and the mother
of three fine boys and two as pretty little gals as the Lord ever give
to a woman, I reckon I'd a got drunk, too."
She stopped, overcome with emotion and Lee hastened to ask:
"How did it happen, Mrs. Doyle?"
"Well, sir, you see, we hadn't quite paid for the place. You know it's
hard with a big family of children on a little farm o' ten acres. It's
hard to make a livin' let alone save money to pay for the land. But we
wuz doin' it. We didn't have but two more payments to make when my man
signed a note for his brother. His brother got sick and couldn't pay
and they come down on us and we're turned out o' house and home. The
sheriff's give us till Wednesday to get out and we've nowhere to go--"
A sob caught her voice.
"Don't say that, Madame. No neighbor of mine will ever be without a home
so long as I have a house with a roof on it."
"Thank you, Colonel Lee," she interrupted, "but you know I can't let my
man be a renter and see my husband and my sons workin' other people's
land like nigger slaves. I got pride. I jus' can't do it. I'd rather
starve."
"I understand, Madame," Lee answered.
The two older boys came awkwardly out into the yard. One of them was
fourteen years old and the other sixteen.
The mother beckoned and they came to her with embarrassed step. Her face
lighted with pride in their stalwart figures and well-shaped, regular
features.
"Here's my oldest boy, William, Colonel Lee."
The Colonel took the outstretched hand with cordial grasp.
"I'm glad to know you, young man."
"And glad to see you, sir," he stammered, blushing.
"My next boy Drury, sir. He ain't but fourteen but he's a grown man."
Drury flushed red but failed to make a sound.
When they had moved away and leaned against the fence watching the scene
out of the corner of an eye, the mother turned to the Colonel and asked:
"Do you blame me if I'm proud of my boys, Colonel?"
"I do not, Madame."
"The Lord made me a mother. All I know is to raise fine children and
love 'em. My little gals is putty as dolls."
John suddenly appeared beside her and pulled her skirt.
"What's the matter?" she whispered.
"Pa's waked up. I told him Colonel Lee's here and he's washed his face
and walks straight. Shall I fetch him out, too?"
"Yes, run tell him to come quick."
The boy darted back into the house.
"Johnnie's father wants to see you, Colonel Lee," the woman apologized.
"I'll be glad to talk to him, Madame."
"He'll be all right now. Your comin' to see us'll sober him. He'll be
awful proud of the honor, sir."
Doyle emerged from the house and walked quickly toward the Colonel.
His head was high. He smiled a welcome to his guest and his step was
straight, light and springing, as if he were not quite sure he could
rest his full weight on one foot and tried to get them both down at the
same time.
Lee's face was a mask of quiet dignity. The tragedy in the woman's heart
made the more pathetic the comedy of the half-drunken husband. Besides,
he was philosopher enough to know that more than half the drunkenness of
the world was the pitiful effort to smother a heartache.
The man's smile was a peculiarly winning one. His face was covered with
a full growth of blond beard cut moderately long. He never shaved. His
wife trimmed his beard in the manner most becoming to the shape of his
head, the poise of his neck and evenly formed shoulders. He wore his
hair full long and it curled about his neck in a deep blond wave. He
might have posed for the model of Hoffman's famous picture of Christ.
His eyes, a clear blue, were the finest feature of his personality. In
spite of his lack of education, in spite of his shabby clothes, in spite
of the smell of liquor he was a personality. His clean, high forehead,
his aquiline nose, his straight eyebrows, his fair skin, his tall figure
spoke the heritage of the great Nordic race of men. The race whose
leaders achieved the civilization of Rome, conquered Europe and finally
dominated civilization.
The difference between this man and the leader who wore the uniform of
a Colonel was not in racial stock. It was purely an accident of the
conditions of birth and training. Behind Lee lay two hundred years of
wealth and culture. The poorer man was his kinsman of the centuries. The
world had not been kind to him. He had lost the way of material success.
Perhaps some kink in his mind, a sense of comedy, a touch of the old
wanderlust of the ages.
Lee wondered what had kept him poor as he looked at the figure
approaching. It was straight and fine in spite of the liquor.
Doyle's brain was just clear enough to realize that he had been highly
honored in a call from the foremost citizen of Virginia. His politeness
was extreme. And it was true. It was instinctive. It leaped from
centuries of racial inheritance.
"We're proud of the honor you've done us, Colonel Lee," he announced.
He grasped the extended hand with a cordial, dignified greeting.
"I only hope I can be of some service to you and your family, Mr.
Doyle."
"I'm sure you can, sir. Won't you come in, Colonel?"
"Thank you, it's so pleasant outside, we'll just sit down by the well,
if you don't mind."
"Yessir. All right, sir."
Lee moved slowly toward the platform of the well with its old oaken
bucket and tall sweep.
His wife threw a warning at her husband under her breath.
"Don't you say nothin' foolish now--"
"I won't."
"Your tongue's too long when it gets to waggin'."
"I'll mind, Ma," he smiled.
The woman called softly to her distinguished guest:
"You'll excuse me, Colonel, while I look after the supper. I'll be back
in a minute."
"Certainly, Madame."
He could not have bowed with graver courtesy to the wife of Stephen A.
Douglas.
"Have a seat here on the well, Colonel," Doyle invited.
Lee took his seat on the weather-beaten oak boards.
Doyle turned his foot on a rounded stone and set down a little
ungracefully in spite of his effort to be fully himself. He saw at once
his misstep and hastened to apologize.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, you've caught me with the smell of liquor, sir--"
He paused and looked over his garden in an embarrassed way.
"I know what has happened to you, Mr. Doyle, and you have my deepest
sympathy."
"Thank you, sir."
"I might have done the same thing if I'd been in your position. Though,
of course, liquor won't help things for you."
Doyle smiled around the corners of his blue eyes.
"No, sir, except while it's a swimmin' in the veins. Then for a little
while you're great and rich and you don't care which a way the wind
blows."
"The farm is lost beyond hope?"
"Yessir, clean gone--world without end."
"You had a lawyer?"
"The best in the county, old Jim Randolph. I didn't have no money to pay
him. He said we'd both always voted the Whig ticket and he'd waive his
retainer. I didn't know what he was wavin', but anyhow he tuck my case.
And I will say he put up a nasty fight for me. He made one of the
greatest speeches I ever heared in my life. Hit wuz mighty nigh worth
losin' the farm ter hear him tell how I'd been abused and how fine a
feller I wuz. An' when he los' the case, he cussed the Judge, he cussed
the jury, he cussed the lawyers. He swore they was all fools and didn't
know the first principles er law nohow. I sho enjoyed the fight, ef I
did lose it. I couldn't pay him nothin' yet. But I did manage to get him
a gallon of the best apple brandy I ever tasted."
"What do you think of doing?"
"I ain't had time ter think, sir. I don't think fast nohow and the first
thing I had to do when I come home and tole the ole 'oman and she bust
out cryin'--wuz ter get drunk. Somehow I couldn't stand it."
"You've never learned a trade?"
"No sir--nothin' 'cept farmin'. I said to myself--what's the use? These
damned nigger slaves have learned all the trades. They say in the old
days, they wuz just servants in the house and stables, and field hands.
Now they've learnt _all_ the trades. They're mechanics, blacksmiths,
carpenters, wagon makers and everything. What chance has a poor white
man got agin 'em? They don't have to worry about nothin'. They have
everything they need before they lift their hands to do anything. They
got plenty to eat for themselves and their families, no matter how many
children they have. All they can eat, all they can wear, a warm house
and a big fire in the winter. I have to fight and scratch to keep a roof
over my head, wood in my fireplace, clothes on my back and somethin' to
eat on my table. How can I beat the slave at a trade? Tain't no use to
try. Ef you want to build a house, your own carpenters can do it. And if
you haven't enough slave carpenters of your own, your neighbors have.
They can hire 'em to you cheaper than I can work and live. They're goin'
to _live_ anyhow. That's settled because they're slaves. They're worth
twelve hundred dollars apiece. Their life is precious. Mine don't count.
I got to look after that myself and I got to look after my wife and
children, too. Hit ain't right, Colonel, this Slavery business. You know
that as well as I do. I've heard you say it, too--"
"I agree with you, Mr. Doyle. But if we set them all free to-morrow, and
you had to compete with their labor, you couldn't live down to their
standard of wages, could you?"
"No, I couldn't. They would kill me at that game, too. That's why I hate
a free nigger worse than a slave--"
He paused and his face knotted with fury.
"Damn 'em all--why are they here anyhow?"
"Come, come, my friend," Lee protested. "It doesn't help to swear about
it. They _are_ here. Not by any wish of mine or of yours. We inherited
this curse from the past. We have clung to old delusions while our smart
Yankee friends have shifted the responsibilities on others."
"What _can_ I do, Colonel?" Doyle asked desperately. "I don't know how
to do anything but farm. I can't go into the fields and work with slaves
as a field hand. And I couldn't get such work to do if I'd do it. I'll
die before I'll come down to it. I might rent a little farm alongside of
a free nigger. But he can beat me at that game. He can live on less and
work longer hours than I do. He'll underbid me as a cropper. He can live
and pay the owner four-fifths of the crop. I'd starve. What am I goin'
to do?"
"Had you thought of moving West into one of the new Territories just
opening?"
"Yessir. I'd thought of it. But how am I goin' to get there with a wife
and five children?"
Lee rose and looked about the place thoughtfully.
"How much could you realize from the sale of your things?"
Doyle scratched his head doubtfully.
"I ain't got no idee, sir. I'm afraid not much. Ye see it's just home
stuff. The old 'oman's awful smart. She raises enough chickens and
turkeys and ducks and guineas to eat, and she sells a few eggs and young
chickens and turkeys when they brings anything in the market. I got six
sheep, a cow, a calf, a mule, a couple o' pigs in the pen. But they
won't bring much money. Ye see I never felt so poor ez long ez I had a
_home_ where I can live independent like. That house ain't much, sir.
But you ain't no idea how deep down in my heart it's got."
He paused and looked at it. The Colonel followed his gaze. It was a
small frame structure standing in a yard filled with trees. A one-story
affair with a sharp, gabled attic. Two dormer windows projected from
the high roof and a solid brick chimney at each end gave it dignity. A
narrow porch came straight out from the front door. On either side of
the porch were built wooden benches and behind them on a lattice grew
a luxuriant rambler rose. It was still blooming richly in the warm
September sun.
"Ye see, sir," Doyle went on, "what we've got that's worth havin' can't
be sold. I love the smell o' them roses. I wake up in the night and the
breeze brings it in the window and it puts me to sleep like an old song
my mother used to sing when I was a little shaver--"
He stopped short.
"I didn't mean to snivel, sir."
"I understand, my friend. No apologies are necessary."
"And that big scuppernong grape vine out there in the garden--I couldn't
sell that. I planted it fifteen years ago. Folks told us we was too fur
north here fur it to grow good. But I knowed better. You can see its
covered a place as big ez the house. And you can smell them ripe grapes
a hundred yards before ye get to the gate. I make a little wine outen
'em. We have 'em to eat a whole month. That garden keeps us goin' winter
and summer. You see them five rows of flat turnips and the ruttabaggers
beside 'em? I've cabbage enough banked under them pine tops to make a
fifty-gallon barrel o' kraut and give us cabbage with our bacon all
winter. We've got turnip greens, onions and collards. I've got corn and
wheat in my crib and bacon enough to last me till next year. I raise
the finest watermelons and mushmelons in the county and it ain't much
trouble to live here. I never knowed how well off I wuz till the Sheriff
come and told me I had to go."
"You're in the prime of life. You can go to a new country and begin over
again. Why not?"
"If I could get there. I reckon I could."
He stopped short as his wife appeared by his side. She had heard Colonel
Lee's last question.
"Of course, you can begin over again. Haven't we got three of the finest
boys the Lord ever give a mother? They ain't got no chance here nohow.
My baby boy's one o' the smartest youngsters in the county. Ef old Andy
Jackson wuz a poor boy an' got ter be President, he might do the same
thing ef we give him a chance--"
"Yes, I reckon we could, ef we had a chance," Doyle agreed doubtfully.
"But it would be a hard pull to leave my ole Virginy home. You know that
would pull you, Colonel--now wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would," was the earnest answer.
"You see I wuz born in this country an' me daddy before me. I like it
here. I like the feel of the air in the fall. There's a flock o' ducks
now circlin' over that bend o' the river. The geese are comin'. I heard
'em honk high up in the sky last night. I like my oysters and terrapin.
I like to shoot ducks and geese, rabbits and quail. I like the smell
o' the water. I like the smell o' these fields. I like the way the sun
shines and the winds blow down here. It's in my blood."
"But you'll go if you can get away," his wife interrupted cheerfully.
Two little girls timidly drew near. Their faces were washed clean and
their shining blonde hair gleamed in circles of golden light as the rays
of the setting sun caught it.
Lee smiled, took them both in his arms and kissed them.
A tear softened his eyes as he placed them on the ground.
"You're darling little dolls. No wonder your mother loves you."
"Run back in the house now, honeys," the mother said.
The children slowly obeyed, glancing back at the great man who had
kissed them. They wondered why their daddy hadn't kissed them oftener.
"What do you think we ought to do, Colonel Lee?" the woman asked
eagerly.
"I can tell you what I would do, Madame, in your place--"
"What?"
The husband and wife spoke the word in chorus.
"I'd go West and begin again."
"But how'm I goin' to get away, sir?" the man asked blankly.
"Sell your things for the best price you can get and I'll loan you the
balance of the money you'll need."
"Will you, sir?" the woman gasped.
"I ain't got no security for ye, Colonel--" Doyle protested.
"You are my friend and neighbor, Mr. Doyle. You're in distress. You
don't need security. I'll take your note, sir, without endorsement."
"Glory to God!" the mother cried with face uplifted in a prayer of
thanksgiving.
Doyle couldn't speak for a moment. He looked out over the roadway and
got control of his feelings before trying. There was a lump in his
throat which made his speech thick when at last he managed to grasp
Lee's hand.
"I dunno how to thank you, sir."
"It will be all right, Mr. Doyle. Look after the sale of your things and
I'll find out the best way for you to get there and let you know."
He mounted his horse and rode away into the fading sunset as they
watched him through dimmed eyes.