There was immense excitement at the Towers next day when the visitors
were expected. The Major took twice his usual period to dress;
George Washington with a view to steadying his nerves braced them
so tight that he had great difficulty in maintaining his equipoise,
and even Margaret herself was in a flutter quite unusual to one so
self-possessed as she generally was. When, however, the carriage drove
up to the door, the Major, with Margaret a little in advance, met
the visitors at the steps in all the glory of new blue broadcloth
and flowered velvet. Sir Charles Grandison could not have been more
elegant, nor Sir Roger more gracious. Behind him yet grander stood
George--George Washington--his master's facsimile in ebony down to
the bandanna handkerchief and the trick of waving the right hand in a
flowing curve. It was perhaps this spectacle which saved the Major,
for Miss Jemima was so overwhelmed by George Washington's portentous
dignity that she exhibited sufficient humility to place the Major
immediately at his ease, and from this time Miss Jemima was at a
disadvantage, and the Major felt that he was master of the situation.
The old lady had never been in the South before except for a few
days on the occasion when Margaret had met her and Rose Endicott at
the hotel in R----, and she had then seen just enough to excite her
inquisitiveness. Her natural curiosity was quite amazing. She was
desperately bent on acquiring information, and whatever she heard
she set down in a journal, so as soon as she became sufficiently
acquainted with the Major she began to ply him with questions. Her
seat at table was at the Major's right, and the questions which she
put to him proved so embarrassing, that the old gentleman declared to
Margaret that if that old woman knew as much as she wanted to know
she would with her wisdom eclipse Solomon and destroy the value of
the Scriptures. He finally hit upon an expedient. He either traversed
every proposition she suggested, or else answered every inquiry with a
statement which was simply astounding. She had therefore not been at
the Towers a week before she was in the possession of facts furnished
by the Major which might have staggered credulity itself.
One of the many entries in her journal was to the effect that,
according to Major B----, it was the custom on many plantations to
shoot a slave every year, on the ground that such a sacrifice was
generally salutary; that it was an expiation of past derelictions and a
deterrent from repetition. And she added this memorandum:
"The most extraordinary and revolting part of it all is that this
barbarous custom, which might well have been supposed confined to
Dahomey, is justified by such men as Major B---- as a pious act." She
inserted this query, "Can it be true?"
If she did not wholly believe the Major, she did not altogether
disbelieve him. She at least was firmly convinced that it was quite
possible. She determined to inquire privately of George Washington.
She might have inquired of one of the numerous maids, whose useless
presence embarrassed her; but the Major foreseeing that she might
pursue her investigation in other directions, had informed her that the
rite was guarded with the greatest care, and that it would be as much
as any one's life were worth to divulge it. Miss Jemima, therefore,
was too loyal to expose one of her own sex to such danger; so she was
compelled to consult George Washington, whom she believed clever enough
to take care of himself.
She accordingly watched several days for an opportunity to see him
alone, but without success. In fact, though she was unaware of it,
George Washington had conceived for her a most violent dislike, and
carefully avoided her. He had observed with growing suspicion Miss
Jemima's investigation of matters relating to the estate, and her
persistent pursuit of knowledge at the table had confirmed him in his
idea that she contemplated the capture of his master and himself.
Like his master, he had a natural antipathy to "old women," and as the
Major's threat for years had varied between "setting him free next
morning" and giving him "a mistress to make him walk straight," George
Washington felt that prudence demanded some vigilance on his part.
One day, under cover of the hilarity incident to the presence at dinner
of Jeff and of his guest, Mr. Lawrence, Miss Jemima had pushed her
inquisition even further than usual. George Washington watched her
with growing suspicion, his head thrown back and his eyes half closed,
and so, when, just before dinner was over, he went into the hall to
see about the fire, he, after his habit, took occasion to express his
opinion of affairs to the sundry members of the family who looked down
at him from their dim gilt frames on the wall.
"I ain't pleased wid de way things is gwine on heah at all," he
declared, poking the fire viciously and addressing his remark more
particularly to an old gentlemen who in ruffles and red velvet sat
with crossed legs in a high-backed chair just over the piano. "Heah me
an' Marse Nat an' Miss Margaret been gittin' 'long all dese years easy
an' peaceable, an' Marse Jeff been comin' over sociable all de time,
an' d' ain' been no trouble nor nuttin' till now dat ole ooman what
ax mo' questions 'n a thousan' folks kin answer got to come heah and
set up to Marse Nat, an' talk to him so he cyarn hardly eat." He rose
from his knees at the hearth, and looking the old gentleman over the
piano squarely in the face, asserted, "She got her mine sot on bein' my
mistis, dat's what 'tis!" This relieved him so that he returned to his
occupation of "chunking" the fire, adding, "When women sets de mines on
a thing, you jes' well gin up!"
So intent was he on relieving himself of the burden on his mind that he
did not hear the door softly open, and did not know anyone had entered
until an enthusiastic voice behind him exclaimed:
"Oh! what a profound observation!" George Washington started in much
confusion; for it was Miss Jemima, who had stolen away from the table
to intercept him at his task of "fixing the fires." She had, however,
heard only his concluding sentence, and she now advanced with a beaming
smile intended to conciliate the old butler. George Washington gave
the hearth a final and hasty sweep, and was retiring in a long detour
around Miss Jemima when she accosted him.
"Uncle George."
"Marm." He stopped and half turned.
"What a charming old place you have here!"
George Washington cast his eye up towards the old gentleman in the
high-backed chair, as much as to say, "You see there? What did I tell
you?" Then he said briefly:
"Yes, 'm."
"What is its extent? How many acres are there in it?"
George Washington positively started. He took in several of the family
in his glance of warning.
"Well, I declare, marm, I don't know," he began; then it occurring
to him that the honor of the family was somehow at stake and must be
upheld, he added, "A leetle mo' 'n a hundred thousan', marm." His
exactness was convincing. Miss Jemima threw up her hands:
"Prodigious! How many nee--how many persons of the African blood are
there on this vast domain?" she inquired, getting nearer to her point.
George, observing how much she was impressed, eyed her with rising
disdain:
"Does you mean niggers, m'm? 'Bout three thousan', mum."
Another exclamation of astonishment burst from the old lady's lips.
"If you will permit me to inquire, Uncle George, how old are you?"
"She warn see if I kin wuck--dat's what she's after," said George to
himself, with a confidential look at a young gentleman in a hunting
dress on the wall between two windows. Then he said:
"Well, I declare, mum, you got me dyah. I ixpec' I is mos ninety years
ole, I reckon I'se ol'er 'n you is--I reckon I is."
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Jemima with a little start as if she had pricked
her finger with a needle.
"Marse Nat kin tell you," continued George; "if you don't know how ole
you is, all you got to do is to ax him, an' he kin tell you--he got it
all set down in a book--he kin tell how ole you is to a day."
"Dear, how frightful!" exclaimed Miss Jemima, just as the Major entered
somewhat hastily.
"He's a gone coon," said George Washington through the crack of the
door to the old gentleman in ruffles, as he pulled the door slowly to
from the outside.
The Major had left the young people in the dining-room and had come to
get a book to settle a disputed quotation. He had found the work and
was trying to read it without the ignominy of putting on his glasses,
when Miss Jemima accosted him.
"Major, your valet appears to be a very intelligent person."
The Major turned upon her.
"My 'valet'! Madam! I have no valet!"
"I mean your body servant, your butler"--explained Miss Jemima. "I have
been much impressed by him."
"George!--George Washington?--you mean George Washington! No, madam, he
has not a particle of intelligence.--He is grossly and densely stupid.
I have never in fifty years been able to get an idea into his head."
"Oh, dear! and I thought him so clever! I was wondering how so
intelligent a person, so well informed, could be a slave."
The Major faced about.
"George! George Washington a slave! Madam, you misapprehend the
situation. _He_ is no slave. I am the slave, not only of him but of
three hundred more as arrogant and exacting as the Czar, and as lazy as
the devil!"
Miss Jemima threw up her hands in astonishment, and the Major, who was
on a favorite theme, proceeded:
"Why, madam, the very coat on my back belongs to that rascal George
Washington, and I do not know when he may take a fancy to order me out
of it. My soul is not my own. He drinks my whiskey, steals my tobacco,
and takes my clothes before my face. As likely as not he will have on
this very waistcoat before the week is out."
The Major stroked his well-filled velvet vest caressingly, as if he
already felt the pangs of the approaching separation.
"Oh, dear! You amaze me," began Miss Jemima.
"Yes, madam, I should be amazed myself, except that I have stood it so
long. Why, I had once an affair with an intimate and valued friend,
Judge Carrington. You may have heard of him, a very distinguished man!
and I was indiscreet enough to carry that rascal George Washington to
the field, thinking, of course, that I ought to go like a gentleman,
and although the affair was arranged after we had taken our positions,
and I did not have the pleasure of shooting at him,----"
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss Jemima. "_The pleasure of shooting at
your friend!_ Monstrous!"
"I say I did not have that pleasure," corrected the Major, blandly;
"the affair was, as I stated, arranged without a shot; yet do you know?
that rascal George Washington will not allow that it was so, and I
understand he recounts with the most harrowing details the manner in
which 'he and I,' as he terms it, shot my friend--murdered him."
Miss Jemima gave an "Ugh. Horrible! What depravity!" she said, almost
under her breath.
The Major caught the words.
"Yes, madam, it is horrible to think of such depravity. Unquestionably
he deserves death; but what can one do! The law, kept feeble by
politicians, does not permit one to kill them, however worthless they
are (he observed Miss Jemima's start,)--except, of course, by way of
example, under certain peculiar circumstances, as I have stated to
you." He bowed blandly.
Miss Jemima was speechless, so he pursued.
"I have sometimes been tempted to make a break for liberty, and have
thought that if I could once get the rascal on the field, with my old
pistols, I would settle with him which of us is the master."
"Do you mean that you would--would shoot him?" gasped Miss Jemima.
"Yes, madam, unless he should be too quick for me," replied the Major,
blandly,--"or should order me from the field, which he probably would
do."
The old lady turned and hastily left the room.