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About this time, St. Clare's brother Alfred, with his eldest
son, a boy of twelve, spent a day or two with the family at the lake.
No sight could be more singular and
beautiful than that of these twin brothers.
Nature, instead of instituting resemblances between them, had made them
opposites on every point; yet a mysterious tie seemed to unite them in a closer
friendship than ordinary.
They used to saunter, arm in arm, up and
down the alleys and walks of the garden. Augustine,
with his blue eyes and golden hair, his ethereally flexible form and vivacious
features; and Alfred, dark-eyed, with haughty Roman profile, firmly-knit limbs,
and decided bearing. They were
always abusing each other's opinions and practices, and yet never a whit the
less absorbed in each other's society; in fact, the very contrariety seemed to
unite them, like the attraction between opposite poles of the magnet.
Henrique, the eldest son of Alfred, was
a noble, dark-eyed, princely boy, full of vivacity and spirit; and, from the
first moment of introduction, seemed to be perfectly fascinated by the
spirituelle graces of his cousin Evangeline.
Eva had a little pet pony, of a snowy
whiteness. It was easy as a cradle,
and as gentle as its little mistress; and this pony was now brought up to the
back verandah by Tom, while a little mulatto boy of about thirteen led along a
small black Arabian, which had just been imported, at a great expense, for
Henrique.
Henrique had a boy's pride in his new
possession; and, as he advanced and took the reins out of the hands of his
little groom, he looked carefully over him, and his brow darkened.
"What's this, Dodo, you little lazy
dog! you haven't rubbed my horse down, this morning."
"Yes, Mas'r," said Dodo,
submissively; "he got that dust on his own self."
"You rascal, shut your mouth!"
said Henrique, violently raising his riding-whip. "How dare you speak?"
The boy was a handsome, bright-eyed
mulatto, of just Henrique's size, and his curling hair hung round a high, bold
forehead. He had white blood in his
veins, as could be seen by the quick flush in his cheek, and the sparkle of his
eye, as he eagerly tried to speak.
"Mas'r Henrique!--" he began.
Henrique struck him across the face with
his riding-whip, and, seizing one of his arms, forced him on to his knees, and
beat him till he was out of breath.
"There, you impudent dog!
Now will you learn not to answer back when I speak to you?
Take the horse back, and clean him properly.
I'll teach you your place!"
"Young Mas'r," said Tom,
"I specs what he was gwine to say was, that the horse would roll when he
was bringing him up from the stable; he's so full of spirits,--that's the way he
got that dirt on him; I looked to his cleaning."
"You hold your tongue till you're
asked to speak!" said Henrique, turning on his heel, and walking up the
steps to speak to Eva, who stood in her riding-dress.
"Dear Cousin, I'm sorry this stupid
fellow has kept you waiting," he said.
"Let's sit down here, on this seat till they come.
What's the matter, Cousin?--you look sober."
"How could you be so cruel and
wicked to poor Dodo?" asked Eva.
"Cruel,--wicked!" said the
boy, with unaffected surprise. "What
do you mean, dear Eva?"
"I don't want you to call me dear
Eva, when you do so," said Eva.
"Dear Cousin, you don't know Dodo;
it's the only way to manage him, he's so full of lies and excuses.
The only way is to put him down at once,--not let him open his mouth;
that's the way papa manages."
"But Uncle Tom said it was an
accident, and he never tells what isn't true."
"He's an uncommon old nigger,
then!" said Henrique. "Dodo
will lie as fast as he can speak."
"You frighten him into deceiving,
if you treat him so."
"Why, Eva, you've really taken such
a fancy to Dodo, that I shall be jealous."
"But you beat him,--and he didn't
deserve it."
"O, well, it may go for some time
when he does, and don't get it. A
few cuts never come amiss with Dodo,--he's a regular spirit, I can tell you; but
I won't beat him again before you, if it troubles you."
Eva was not satisfied, but found it in
vain to try to make her handsome cousin understand her feelings.
Dodo soon appeared, with the horses.
"Well, Dodo, you've done pretty
well, this time," said his young master, with a more gracious air.
"Come, now, and hold Miss Eva's horse while I put her on to the
saddle."
Dodo came and stood by Eva's pony.
His face was troubled; his eyes looked as if he had been crying.
Henrique, who valued himself on his
gentlemanly adroitness in all matters of gallantry, soon had his fair cousin in
the saddle, and, gathering the reins, placed them in her hands.
But Eva bent to the other side of the
horse, where Dodo was standing, and said, as he relinquished the
reins,--"That's a good boy, Dodo;--thank you!"
Dodo looked up in amazement into the
sweet young face; the blood rushed to his cheeks, and the tears to his eyes.
"Here, Dodo," said his master,
imperiously.
Dodo sprang and held the horse, while
his master mounted.
"There's a picayune for you to buy
candy with, Dodo," said Henrique; "go get some."
And Henrique cantered down the walk
after Eva. Dodo stood looking after
the two children. One had given him
money; and one had given him what he wanted far more,--a kind word, kindly
spoken. Dodo had been only a few
months away from his mother. His
master had bought him at a slave warehouse, for his handsome face, to be a match
to the handsome pony; and he was now getting his breaking in, at the hands of
his young master.
The scene of the beating had been
witnessed by the two brothers St. Clare, from another part of the garden.
Augustine's cheek flushed; but he only
observed, with his usual sarcastic carelessness.
"I suppose that's what we may call
republican education, Alfred?"
"Henrique is a devil of a fellow,
when his blood's up," said Alfred, carelessly.
"I suppose you consider this an
instructive practice for him," said Augustine, drily.
"I couldn't help it, if I didn't.
Henrique is a regular little tempest;--his mother and I have given him
up, long ago. But, then, that Dodo
is a perfect sprite,--no amount of whipping can hurt him."
"And this by way of teaching
Henrique the first verse of a republican's catechism, `All men are born free and
equal!'"
"Poh!" said Alfred; "one
of Tom Jefferson's pieces of French sentiment and humbug.
It's perfectly ridiculous to have that going the rounds among us, to this
day."
"I think it is," said St.
Clare, significantly.
"Because," said Alfred,
"we can see plainly enough that all men are _not_ born free, nor born
equal; they are born anything else. For
my part, I think half this republican talk sheer humbug.
It is the educated, the intelligent, the wealthy, the refined, who ought
to have equal rights and not the canaille."
"If you can keep the canaille of
that opinion," said Augustine. "They
took _their_ turn once, in France."
"Of course, they must be _kept
down_, consistently, steadily, as I _should_," said Alfred, setting his
foot hard down as if he were standing on somebody.
"It makes a terrible slip when they
get up," said Augustine,--"in St. Domingo, for instance."
"Poh!" said Alfred,
"we'll take care of that, in this country.
We must set our face against all this educating, elevating talk, that is
getting about now; the lower class must not be educated."
"That is past praying for,"
said Augustine; "educated they will be, and we have only to say how.
Our system is educating them in barbarism and brutality.
We are breaking all humanizing ties, and making them brute beasts; and,
if they get the upper hand, such we shall find them."
"They shall never get the upper
hand!" said Alfred.
"That's right," said St.
Clare; "put on the steam, fasten down the escape-valve, and sit on it, and
see where you'll land."
"Well," said Alfred, "we
_will_ see. I'm not afraid to sit
on the escape-valve, as long as the boilers are strong, and the machinery works
well."
"The nobles in Louis XVI.'s time
thought just so; and Austria and Pius IX. think so now; and, some pleasant
morning, you may all be caught up to meet each other in the air, _when the
boilers burst_."
"_Dies declarabit_," said
Alfred, laughing.
"I tell you," said Augustine,
"if there is anything that is revealed with the strength of a divine law in
our times, it is that the masses are to rise, and the under class become the
upper one."
"That's one of your red republican
humbugs, Augustine! Why didn't you
ever take to the stump;--you'd make a famous stump orator! Well, I hope I shall be dead before this millennium of your
greasy masses comes on."
"Greasy or not greasy, they will
govern _you_, when their time comes," said Augustine; "and they will
be just such rulers as you make them. The
French noblesse chose to have the people `_sans culottes_,' and they had `_sans
culotte_' governors to their hearts' content.
The people of Hayti--"
"O, come, Augustine! as if we
hadn't had enough of that abominable, contemptible Hayti![1] The Haytiens were not Anglo Saxons; if they had been there
would have been another story. The
Anglo Saxon is the dominant race of the world, and _is to be so_."
[1] In August
1791, as a consequence of the French Revolution, the black slaves and mulattoes
on Haiti rose in revolt against the whites, and in the period of turmoil that
followed enormous cruelties were practised by both sides. The "Emperor" Dessalines, come to power in 1804,
massacred all the whites on the island. Haitian
bloodshed became an argument to show the barbarous nature of the Negro, a
doctrine Wendell Phillips sought to combat in his celebrated lecture on
Toussaint L'Ouverture.
"Well, there is a pretty fair infusion of Anglo Saxon
blood among our slaves, now," said Augustine.
"There are plenty among them who have only enough of the African to
give a sort of tropical warmth and fervor to our calculating firmness and
foresight. If ever the San Domingo
hour comes, Anglo Saxon blood will lead on the day.
Sons of white fathers, with all our haughty feelings burning in their
veins, will not always be bought and sold and traded. They will rise, and raise with them their mother's
race."
"Stuff!--nonsense!"
"Well," said Augustine,
"there goes an old saying to this effect, `As it was in the days of Noah so
shall it be;--they ate, they drank, they planted, they builded, and knew not
till the flood came and took them.'"
"On the whole, Augustine, I think
your talents might do for a circuit rider," said Alfred, laughing.
"Never you fear for us; possession is our nine points.
We've got the power. This
subject race," said he, stamping firmly, "is down and shall _stay_
down! We have energy enough to
manage our own powder."
"Sons trained like your Henrique
will be grand guardians of your powder-magazines," said
Augustine,--"so cool and self-possessed!
The proverb says, "`They that cannot govern themselves cannot govern
others.'"
"There is a trouble there"
said Alfred, thoughtfully; "there's no doubt that our system is a difficult
one to train children under. It
gives too free scope to the passions, altogether, which, in our climate, are hot
enough. I find trouble with
Henrique. The boy is generous and
warm-hearted, but a perfect fire-cracker when excited.
I believe I shall send him North for his education, where obedience is
more fashionable, and where he will associate more with equals, and less with
dependents."
"Since training children is the
staple work of the human race," said Augustine, "I should think it
something of a consideration that our system does not work well there."
"It does not for some things,"
said Alfred; "for others, again, it does.
It makes boys manly and courageous; and the very vices of an abject race
tend to strengthen in them the opposite virtues. I think Henrique, now, has a keener sense of the beauty of
truth, from seeing lying and deception the universal badge of slavery."
"A Christian-like view of the
subject, certainly!" said Augustine.
"It's true, Christian-like or not;
and is about as Christian-like as most other things in the world," said
Alfred.
"That may be," said St. Clare.
"Well, there's no use in talking,
Augustine. I believe we've been
round and round this old track five hundred times, more or less.
What do you say to a game of backgammon?"
The two brothers ran up the verandah
steps, and were soon seated at a light bamboo stand, with the backgammon-board
between them. As they were setting
their men, Alfred said,
"I tell you, Augustine, if I
thought as you do, I should do something."
"I dare say you would,--you are one
of the doing sort,--but what?"
"Why, elevate your own servants,
for a specimen," said Alfred, with a half-scornful smile.
"You might as well set Mount AEtna
on them flat, and tell them to stand up under it, as tell me to elevate my
servants under all the superincumbent mass of society upon them.
One man can do nothing, against the whole action of a community.
Education, to do anything, must be a state education; or there must be
enough agreed in it to make a current."
"You take the first throw,"
said Alfred; and the brothers were soon lost in the game, and heard no more till
the scraping of horses' feet was heard under the verandah.
"There come the children,"
said Augustine, rising. "Look
here, Alf! Did you ever see
anything so beautiful?" And,
in truth, it _was_ a beautiful sight. Henrique,
with his bold brow, and dark, glossy curls, and glowing cheek, was laughing
gayly as he bent towards his fair cousin, as they came on. She was dressed in a blue riding dress, with a cap of the
same color. Exercise had given a
brilliant hue to her cheeks, and heightened the effect of her singularly
transparent skin, and golden hair.
"Good heavens! what perfectly
dazzling beauty!" said Alfred. "I
tell you, Auguste, won't she make some hearts ache, one of these days?"
"She will, too truly,--God knows
I'm afraid so!" said St. Clare, in a tone of sudden bitterness, as he
hurried down to take her off her horse.
"Eva darling! you're not much
tired?" he said, as he clasped her in his arms.
"No, papa," said the child;
but her short, hard breathing alarmed her father.
"How could you ride so fast,
dear?--you know it's bad for you."
"I felt so well, papa, and liked it
so much, I forgot."
St. Clare carried her in his arms into
the parlor, and laid her on the sofa.
"Henrique, you must be careful of
Eva," said he; "you mustn't ride fast with her."
"I'll take her under my care,"
said Henrique, seating himself by the sofa, and taking Eva's hand.
Eva soon found herself much better.
Her father and uncle resumed their game, and the children were left
together.
"Do you know, Eva, I'm sorry papa
is only going to stay two days here, and then I shan't see you again for ever so
long! If I stay with you, I'd try
to be good, and not be cross to Dodo, and so on.
I don't mean to treat Dodo ill; but, you know, I've got such a quick
temper. I'm not really bad to him,
though. I give him a picayune, now
and then; and you see he dresses well. I
think, on the whole, Dodo 's pretty well off."
"Would you think you were well off,
if there were not one creature in the world near you to love you?"
"I?--Well, of course not."
"And you have taken Dodo away from
all the friends he ever had, and now he has not a creature to love him;--nobody
can be good that way."
"Well, I can't help it, as I know
of. I can't get his mother and I
can't love him myself, nor anybody else, as I know of."
"Why can't you?" said Eva.
"_Love_ Dodo!
Why, Eva, you wouldn't have me! I
may _like_ him well enough; but you don't _love_ your servants."
"I do, indeed."
"How odd!"
"Don't the Bible say we must love
everybody?"
"O, the Bible!
To be sure, it says a great many such things; but, then, nobody ever
thinks of doing them,--you know, Eva, nobody does."
Eva did not speak; her eyes were fixed
and thoughtful for a few moments.
"At any rate," she said,
"dear Cousin, do love poor Dodo, and be kind to him, for my sake!"
"I could love anything, for your
sake, dear Cousin; for I really think you are the loveliest creature that I ever
saw!" And Henrique spoke with
an earnestness that flushed his handsome face.
Eva received it with perfect simplicity, without even a change of
feature; merely saying, "I'm glad you feel so, dear Henrique!
I hope you will remember."
The dinner-bell put an end to the
interview.
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