7. CHAPTER VII.
THE SLAVE-HOLDING PARSON.
The Rev. James Wilson was a native of the State of Connecticut,
where he was educated for the ministry in the Methodist persuasion.
His father was a strict follower of John Wesley, and spared no pains in
his son's education, with the hope that he would one day be as renowned
as the leader of his sect. James had scarcely finished his education at
New Haven, when he was invited by an uncle, then on a visit to his
father, to spend a few months at Natchez in Mississippi. Young Wilson
accepted his uncle's invitation, and accompanied him to the South. Few
young men, and especially clergymen, going fresh from college to the
South, but are looked upon as geniuses in a small way, and who are not
invited to all the parties in the neighborhood. Mr. Wilson was not an
exception to this rule. The society into which he was thrown, on his
arrival at Natchez, was too brilliant for him not to be captivated by it,
and, as might have been expected, he succeeded in captivating a plantation
with seventy slaves if not the heart of the lady to whom it belonged.
Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a large congregation
with a snug salary. Like other planters, Mr. Wilson confided
the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby, an overseer of high reputation in
his way.
The Poplar Farm, as it was called, was situated in a beautiful valley,
nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River. The once unshorn
face of nature had given way, and the farm now blossomed with
a splendid harvest. The neat cottage stood in a grove, where Lombardy
poplars lift their tops almost to prop the skies, where the willow, locust,
and horse-chestnut trees spread forth their branches, and flowers
never ceased to blossom.
This was the parson's country residence, where the family spent only
two months during the year. His town residence was a fine villa, seated
on the brow of a hill, at the edge of the city.
It was in the kitchen of this house that Agnes found her new home.
Mr. Wilson was every inch a democrat, and early resolved that “his
people,” as he called his slaves, should be well-fed and not over-worked,
and therefore laid down the law and gospel to the overseer as well as to
the slaves. “It is my wish,” said he to Mr. Carlingham, an old schoolfellow
who was spending a few days with him,—“It is my wish that
a new system be adopted on the plantations in this State. I believe
that the sons of Ham should have the gospel, and I intend that mine
shall have it. The gospel is calculated to make mankind better and
none should be without it.”
“What say you,” said Carlingham, “about the right of man to his
liberty?”
“Now, Carlingham, you have begun to harp again about men's rights.
I really wish that you could see this matter as I do.”
“I regret that I cannot see eye to eye with you,” said Carlingham.
“I am a disciple of Roussean, and have for years made the rights of
man my study, and I must confess to you that I see no difference between
white and black, as it regards liberty.”
“Now, my dear Carlingham, would you really have the negroes enjoy
the same rights as ourselves?”
“I would most certainly. Look at our great Declaration of Independence!
look even at the Constitution of our own Connecticut, and
see what is said in these about liberty.”
“I regard all this talk about rights as mere humbug. The Bible is
older than the Declaration of Independence, and there I take my stand.”
A long discussion followed, in which both gentlemen put forth their
peculiar ideas with much warmth of feeling.
During this conversation, there was another person in the room, seated
by the window, who, although at work, embroidering a fine collar, paid
minute attention to what was said. This was Georgiana, the only
daughter of the parson, who had but just returned from Connecticut,
where she had finished her education. She had had the opportunity of
contrasting the spirit of Christianity and liberty in New England with
that of slavery in her native State, and had learned to feel deeply for
the injured negro.
Georgiana was in her nineteenth year, and had been much benefited
by her residence of five years at the North. Her form was tall and
graceful, her features regular and well-defined, and her complexion was
illuminated by the freshness of youth, beauty, and health.
The daughter differed from both the father and visitor upon the subject
which they had been discussing; and as soon as an opportunity offered,
she gave it as her opinion that the Bible was both the bulwark of Christianity
and of liberty. With a smile she said,—
“Of course, papa will overlook my difference with him, for although
I am a native of the South, I am by education and sympathy a Northerner.”
Mr. Wilson laughed, appearing rather pleased than otherwise at the
manner in which his daughter had expressed herself. From this Georgiana
took courage and continued,—
“ `Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' This single passage of
Scripture should cause us to have respect for the rights of the slave.
True Christian love is of an enlarged and disinterested nature. It loves
all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, without regard to color
or condition.”
“Georgiana, my dear, you are an abolitionist,—your talk is fanaticism!”
said Mr. Wilson, in rather a sharp tone; but the subdued look
of the girl and the presence of Carlingham caused him to soften his
language.
Mr. Wilson having lost his wife by consumption, and Georgiana being
his only child, he loved her too dearly to say more, even if he felt disposed.
A silence followed this exhortatian from the young Christian,
but her remarks had done a noble work. The father's heart was
touched, and the sceptic, for the first time, was viewing Christianity in
its true light.
