The Garies decide on a Change.
We must now return to the Garies, whom we left listening to Mr. Winston's
description of what he saw in Philadelphia, and we need not add anything
respecting it to what the reader has already gathered from the last
chapter; our object being now to describe the effect his narrative
produced.
On the evening succeeding the departure of Winston for New Orleans, Mr. and
Mrs. Garie were seated in a little arbour at a short distance from the
house, and which commanded a magnificent prospect up and down the river. It
was overshadowed by tall trees, from the topmost branches of which depended
large bunches of Georgian moss, swayed to and fro by the soft spring breeze
that came gently sweeping down the long avenue of magnolias, laden with the
sweet breath of the flowers with which the trees were covered.
A climbing rose and Cape jessamine had almost covered the arbour, and their
intermingled blossoms, contrasting with the rich brown colour of the
branches of which it was constructed, gave it an exceedingly beautiful and
picturesque appearance.
This arbour was their favourite resort in the afternoons of summer, as they
could see from it the sun go down behind the low hills opposite, casting
his gleams of golden light upon the tops of the trees that crowned their
summits. Northward, where the chain of hills was broken, the waters of the
river would be brilliant with waves of gold long after the other parts of
it were shrouded in the gloom of twilight. Mr. and Mrs. Garie sat looking
at the children, who were scampering about the garden in pursuit of a pet
rabbit which had escaped, and seemed determined not to be caught upon any
pretence whatever.
"Are they not beautiful?" said Mr. Garie, with pride, as they bounded past
him. "There are not two prettier children in all Georgia. You don't seem
half proud enough of them," he continued, looking down upon his wife
affectionately.
Mrs. Garie, who was half reclining on the seat, and leaning her head upon
his shoulder, replied, "Oh, yes, I am, Garie; I'm sure I love them
dearly--oh, so dearly!" continued she, fervently--"and I only wish"--here
she paused, as if she felt she had been going to say something that had
better remain unspoken.
"You only wish what, dear? You were going to say something," rejoined her
husband. "Come, out with it, and let me hear what it was."
"Oh, Garie, it was nothing of any consequence."
"Consequence or no consequence, let me hear what it was, dear."
"Well, as you insist on hearing it, I was about to say that I wish they
were not little slaves."
"Oh, Em! Em!" exclaimed he, reproachfully, "how can you speak in that
manner? I thought, dear, that you regarded me in any other light than that
of a master. What have I done to revive the recollection that any such
relation existed between us? Am I not always kind and affectionate? Did you
ever have a wish ungratified for a single day, if it was in my power to
compass it? or have I ever been harsh or neglectful?"
"Oh, no, dear, no--forgive me, Garie--do, pray, forgive me--you are
kindness itself--believe me, I did not think to hurt your feelings by
saying what I did. I know you do not treat me or them as though we were
slaves. But I cannot help feeling that we are such--and it makes me very
sad and unhappy sometimes. If anything should happen that you should be
taken away suddenly, think what would be our fate. Heirs would spring up
from somewhere, and we might be sold and separated for ever. Respecting
myself I might be indifferent, but regarding the children I cannot feel
so."
"Tut, tut, Em! don't talk so gloomily. Do you know of any one, now, who has
been hired to put me to death?" said he, smiling.
"Don't talk so, dear; remember, 'In the midst of life we are in death.' It
was only this morning I learned that Celeste--you remember Celeste, don't
you?--I cannot recall her last name."
"No, dear, I really can't say that I do remember whom you refer to."
"I can bring her to your recollection, I think," continued she. "One
afternoon last fall we were riding together on the Augusta-road, when you
stopped to admire a very neat cottage, before the door of which two pretty
children were playing."
"Oh, yes, I remember something about it--I admired the children so
excessively that you became quite jealous."
"I don't remember that part of it," she continued. "But let me tell you my
story. Last week the father of the children started for Washington; the
cars ran off the track, and were precipitated down a high embankment, and
he and some others were killed. Since his death it has been discovered that
all his property was heavily mortgaged to old MacTurk, the worst man in the
whole of Savannah; and he has taken possession of the place, and thrown her
and the children into the slave-pen, from which they will be sold to the
highest bidder at a sheriff's sale. Who can say that a similar fate may
never be mine? These things press upon my spirit, and make me so gloomy and
melancholy at times, that I wish it were possible to shun even myself.
Lately, more than ever, have I felt disposed to beg you to break up here,
and move off to some foreign country where there is no such thing as
slavery. I have often thought how delightful it would be for us all to be
living in that beautiful Italy you have so often described to me--or in
France either. You said you liked both those places--why not live in one of
them?"
"No, no, Emily; I love America too much to ever think of living anywhere
else. I am much too thorough a democrat ever to swear allegiance to a king.
No, no--that would never do--give me a free country."
"That is just what I say," rejoined Mrs. Garie; "that is exactly what I
want; that is why I should like to get away from here, because this is
_not_ a free country--God knows it is not!"
"Oh, you little traitor! How severely you talk, abusing your native land in
such shocking style, it's really painful to hear you," said Mr. Garie in a
jocular tone.
"Oh, love," rejoined she, "don't joke, it's not a subject for jesting. It
is heavier upon my heart than you dream of. Wouldn't you like to live in
the free States? There is nothing particular to keep you here, and only
think how much better it would be for the children: and Garie," she
continued in a lower tone, nestling close to him as she spoke, and drawing
his head towards her, "I think I am going to--" and she whispered some
words in his ear, and as she finished she shook her head, and her long
curls fell down in clusters over her face.
Mr. Garie put the curls aside, and kissing her fondly, asked, "How long
have you known it, dear?"
"Not long, not very long," she replied. "And I have such a yearning that it
should be born a free child. I do want that the first air it breathes
should be that of freedom. It will kill me to have another child born here!
its infant smiles would only be a reproach to me. Oh," continued she, in a
tone of deep feeling, "it is a fearful thing to give birth to an inheritor
of chains;" and she shuddered as she laid her head on her husband's bosom.
Mr. Garie's brow grew thoughtful, and a pause in the conversation ensued.
The sun had long since gone down, and here and there the stars were
beginning to show their twinkling light. The moon, which had meanwhile been
creeping higher and higher in the blue expanse above, now began to shed her
pale, misty beams on the river below, the tiny waves of which broke in
little circlets of silver on the shore almost at their feet.
Mr. Garie was revolving in his mind the conversation he had so recently
held with Mr. Winston respecting the free States. It had been suggested by
him that the children should be sent to the North to be educated, but he
had dismissed the notion, well knowing that the mother would be
heart-broken at the idea of parting with her darlings. Until now, the
thought of going to reside in the North had never been presented for his
consideration. He was a Southerner in almost all his feelings, and had
never had a scruple respecting the ownership of slaves. But now the fact
that he was the master as well as the father of his children, and that
whilst he resided where he did it was out of his power to manumit them;
that in the event of his death they might be seized and sold by his heirs,
whoever they might be, sent a thrill of horror through him. He had known
all this before, but it had never stood out in such bold relief until now.
"What are you thinking of, Garie?" asked his wife, looking up into his
face. "I hope I have not vexed you by what I've said."
"Oh, no, dear, not at all. I was only thinking whether you would be any
happier if I acceded to your wishes and removed to the North. Here you live
in good style--you have a luxurious home, troops of servants to wait upon
you, a carriage at your disposal. In fact, everything for which you express
a desire."
"I know all that, Garie, and what I am about to say may seem ungrateful,
but believe me, dear, I do not mean it to be so. I had much rather live on
crusts and wear the coarsest clothes, and work night and day to earn them,
than live here in luxury, wearing gilded chains. Carriages and fine
clothes cannot create happiness. I have every physical comfort, and yet my
heart is often heavy--oh, so very heavy; I know I am envied by many for my
fine establishment; yet how joyfully would I give it all up and accept the
meanest living for the children's freedom--and your love."
"But, Emily, granted we should remove to the North, you would find
annoyances there as well as here. There is a great deal of prejudice
existing there against people of colour, which, often exposes them to great
inconveniences."
"Yes, dear, I know all that; I should expect that. But then on the other
hand, remember what George said respecting the coloured people themselves;
what a pleasant social circle they form, and how intelligent many of them
are! Oh, Garie, how I have longed for friends!--we have visitors now and
then, but none that I can call friends. The gentlemen who come to see you
occasionally are polite to me, but, under existing circumstances, I feel
that they cannot entertain for me the respect I think I deserve. I know
they look down upon and despise me because I'm a coloured woman. Then there
would be another advantage; I should have some female society--here I have
none. The white ladies of the neighbourhood will not associate with me,
although I am better educated, thanks to your care, than many of them, so
it is only on rare occasions, when I can coax some of our more cultivated
coloured acquaintances from Savannah to pay us a short visit, that I have
any female society, and no woman can be happy without it. I have no
parents, nor yet have you. We have nothing we greatly love to leave
behind--no strong ties to break, and in consequence would be subjected to
no great grief at leaving. If I only could persuade you to go!" said she,
imploringly.
"Well, Emily," replied he, in an undecided manner, "I'll think about it. I
love you so well, that I believe I should be willing to make any sacrifice
for your happiness. But it is getting damp and chilly, and you know," said
he, smiling, "you must be more than usually careful of yourself now."
The next evening, and many more besides, were spent in discussing the
proposed change. Many objections to it were stated, weighed carefully, and
finally set aside. Winston was written to and consulted, and though he
expressed some surprise at the proposal, gave it his decided approval. He
advised, at the same time, that the estate should not be sold, but be
placed in the hands of some trustworthy person, to be managed in Mr.
Garie's absence. Under the care of a first-rate overseer, it would not only
yield a handsome income, but should they be dissatisfied with their
Northern home, they would have the old place still in reserve; and with the
knowledge that they had this to fall back upon, they could try their
experiment of living in the North with their minds less harassed than they
otherwise would be respecting the result.
As Mr. Garie reflected more and more on the probable beneficial results of
the project, his original disinclination to it diminished, until he finally
determined on running the risk; and he felt fully rewarded for this
concession to his wife's wishes when he saw her recover all her wonted
serenity and sprightliness.
They were soon in all the bustle and confusion consequent on preparing for
a long journey. When Mr. Garie's determination to remove became known,
great consternation prevailed on the plantation, and dismal forebodings
were entertained by the slaves as to the result upon themselves.
Divers were the lamentations heard on all sides, when they were positively
convinced that "massa was gwine away for true;" but they were somewhat
pacified, when they learned that no one was to be sold, and that the place
would not change hands. For Mr. Garie was a very kind master, and his
slaves were as happy as slaves can be under any circumstances. Not much
less was the surprise which the contemplated change excited in the
neighbourhood, and it was commented on pretty freely by his acquaintances.
One of them--to whom he had in conversation partially opened his mind, and
explained that his intended removal grew out of anxiety respecting the
children, and his own desire that they might be where they could enjoy the
advantages of schools, &c.--sneered almost to his face at what he termed
his crack-brained notions; and subsequently, in relating to another person
the conversation he had had with Mr. Garie, spoke of him as "a soft-headed
fool, led by the nose by a yaller wench. Why can't he act," he said, "like
other men who happen to have half-white children--breed them up for the
market, and sell them?" and he might have added, "as I do," for he was well
known to have so acted by two or three of his own tawny offspring.
Mr. Garie, at the suggestion of Winston, wrote to Mr. Walters, to procure
them a small, but neat and comfortable house, in Philadelphia; which, when
procured, he was to commit to the care of Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, who were to
have it furnished and made ready to receive him and his family on their
arrival, as Mr. Garie desired to save his wife as much as possible, from
the care and anxiety attendant upon the arrangement of a new residence.
One most important matter, and on which depended the comfort and happiness
of his people, was the selection of a proper overseer. On its becoming
known that he required such a functionary, numbers of individuals who
aspired to that dignified and honourable office applied forthwith; and as
it was also known that the master was to be absent, and that, in
consequence, the party having it under his entire control, could cut and
slash without being interfered with, the value of the situation was greatly
enhanced. It had also another irresistible attraction, the absence of the
master would enable the overseer to engage in the customary picking and
stealing operations, with less chance of detection.
In consequence of all these advantages, there was no want of applicants.
Great bony New England men, traitors to the air they first breathed, came
anxiously forward to secure the prize. Mean, weasen-faced, poor white
Georgians, who were able to show testimonials of their having produced
large crops with a small number of hands, and who could tell to a fraction
how long a slave could be worked on a given quantity of corn, also put in
their claims for consideration. Short, thick-set men, with fierce faces,
who gloried in the fact that they had at various times killed refractory
negroes, also presented themselves to undergo the necessary examination.
Mr. Garie sickened as he contemplated the motley mass of humanity that
presented itself with such eagerness for the attainment of so degrading an
office; and as he listened to their vulgar boastings and brutal language,
he blushed to think that such men were his countrymen.
Never until now had he had occasion for an overseer. He was not ambitious
of being known to produce the largest crop to the acre, and his hands had
never been driven to that shocking extent, so common with his neighbours.
He had been his own manager, assisted by an old negro, called Ephraim--most
generally known as Eph, and to him had been entrusted the task of
immediately superintending the hands engaged in the cultivation of the
estate. This old man was a great favourite with the children, and Clarence,
who used to accompany him on his pony over the estate, regarded him as the
most wonderful and accomplished coloured gentleman in existence.
Eph was in a state of great perturbation at the anticipated change, and he
earnestly sought to be permitted to accompany them to the North. Mr. Garie
was, however, obliged to refuse his request, as he said, that it was
impossible that the place could get on without him.
An overseer being at last procured, whose appearance and manners betokened
a better heart than that of any who had yet applied for the situation, and
who was also highly-recommended for skill and honesty; nothing now remained
to prevent Mr. Garie's early departure.