 | CHAPTER XLIII.
RESULTS. Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly |  |
43. CHAPTER XLIII.
RESULTS.
The rest of our story is soon told. George Shelby,
interested, as any other young man might be, by the romance
of the incident, no less than by feelings of humanity,
was at the pains to send to Cassy the bill of sale of Eliza;
whose date and name all corresponded with her own knowledge
of facts, and left no doubt upon her mind as to the
identity of her child. It remained now only for her to trace
out the path of the fugitives.
Madame de Thoux and she, thus drawn together by the
singular coincidence of their fortunes, proceeded immediately
to Canada, and began a tour of inquiry among the stations,
where the numerous fugitives from slavery are located. At
Amherstberg they found the missionary with whom George
and Eliza had taken shelter, on their first arrival in Canada;
and through him were enabled to trace the family to Montreal.
George and Eliza had now been five years free. George
had found constant occupation in the shop of a worthy
machinist, where he had been earning a competent support
for his family, which, in the mean time, had been increased by
the addition of another daughter.
Little Harry — a fine bright boy — had been put to a good
school, and was making rapid proficiency in knowledge.
The worthy pastor of the station, in Amherstberg, where
George had first landed, was so much interested in the statements
of Madame de Thoux and Cassy, that he yielded to
the solicitations of the former, to accompany them to Montreal,
in their search, — she bearing all the expense of the
expedition.
The scene now changes to a small, neat tenement, in the
outskirts of Montreal; the time, evening. A cheerful fire
blazes on the hearth; a tea-table, covered with a snowy cloth,
stands prepared for the evening meal. In one corner of the
room was a table covered with a green cloth, where was an
open writing-desk, pens, paper, and over it a shelf of well-selected
books.
This was George's study. The same zeal for self-improvement,
which led him to steal the much coveted arts of reading
and writing, amid all the toils and discouragements of his
early life, still led him to devote all his leisure time to self-cultivation.
At this present time, he is seated at the table, making
notes from a volume of the family library he has been
reading.
“Come, George,” says Eliza, “you 've been gone all day.
Do put down that book, and let 's talk, while I 'm getting tea,
— do.”
And little Eliza seconds the effort, by toddling up to her
father, and trying to pull the book out of his hand, and install
herself on his knee as a substitute.
“O, you little witch!” says George, yielding, as, in such
circumstances, man always must.
“That 's right,” says Eliza, as she begins to cut a loaf of
bread. A little older she looks; her form a little fuller;
and happy as woman need be.
“Harry, my boy, how did you come on in that sum,
to-day?” says George, as he laid his hand on his son's
head.
Harry has lost his long curls; but he can never lose those
eyes and eyelashes, and that fine, bold brow, that flushes with
triumph, as he answers, “I did it, every bit of it, myself,
father; and nobody helped me!”
“That 's right,” says his father; “depend on yourself,
my son. You have a better chance than ever your poor
father had.”
At this moment, there is a rap at the door; and Eliza goes
and opens it. The delighted — “Why! — this you?” —
calls up her husband; and the good pastor of Amherstberg
is welcomed. There are two more women with him, and Eliza
asks them to sit down.
Now, if the truth must be told, the honest pastor had
arranged a little programme, according to which this affair
was to develop itself; and, on the way up, all had very
cautiously and prudently exhorted each other not to let
things out, except according to previous arrangement.
What was the good man's consternation, therefore, just as
he had motioned to the ladies to be seated, and was taking
out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his mouth, so as to
proceed to his introductory speech in good order, when
Madame de Thoux upset the whole plan, by throwing her
arms around George's neck, and letting all out at once, by
saying, “O, George! don't you know me? I 'm your
sister Emily.”
Cassy had seated herself more composedly, and would have
carried on her part very well, had not little Eliza suddenly
and curl, just as her daughter was when she saw her last.
The little thing peered up in her face; and Cassy caught her
up in her arms, pressed her to her bosom, saying, what,
at the moment she really believed, “Darling, I 'm your
mother!”
In fact, it was a troublesome matter to do up exactly in
proper order; but the good pastor, at last, succeeded in
getting everybody quiet, and delivering the speech with
which he had intended to open the exercises; and in which,
at last, he succeeded so well, that his whole audience were
sobbing about him in a manner that ought to satisfy any
orator, ancient or modern.
They knelt together, and the good man prayed, — for there
are some feelings so agitated and tumultuous, that they can
find rest only by being poured into the bosom of Almighty
love, — and then, rising up, the new-found family embraced
each other, with a holy trust in Him, who from such peril
and dangers, and by such unknown ways, had brought them
together.
The note-book of a missionary, among the Canadian fugitives,
contains truth stranger than fiction. How can it be
otherwise, when a system prevails which whirls families and
scatters their members, as the wind whirls and scatters
the leaves of autumn? These shores of refuge, like the
eternal shore, often unite again, in glad communion, hearts
that for long years have mourned each other as lost. And
affecting beyond expression is the earnestness with which
every new arrival among them is met, if, perchance, it may
bring tidings of mother, sister, child or wife, still lost to view
in the shadows of slavery.
Deeds of heroism are wrought here more than those of
fugitive voluntarily threads his way back to the terrors and
perils of that dark land, that he may bring out his sister, or
mother, or wife.
One young man, of whom a missionary has told us, twice
re-captured, and suffering shameful stripes for his heroism,
had escaped again; and, in a letter which we heard read, tells
his friends that he is going back a third time, that he may, at
last, bring away his sister. My good sir, is this man a hero,
or a criminal? Would not you do as much for your sister?
And can you blame him?
But, to return to our friends, whom we left wiping their
eyes, and recovering themselves from too great and sudden a
joy. They are now seated around the social board, and are
getting decidedly companionable; only that Cassy, who keeps
little Eliza on her lap, occasionally squeezes the little thing,
in a manner that rather astonishes her, and obstinately
refuses to have her mouth stuffed with cake to the extent the
little one desires, — alleging, what the child rather wonders at,
that she has got something better than cake, and does n't
want it.
And, indeed, in two or three days, such a change has
passed over Cassy, that our readers would scarcely know her.
The despairing, haggard expression of her face had given
way to one of gentle trust. She seemed to sink, at once, into
the bosom of the family, and take the little ones into her
heart, as something for which it long had waited. Indeed,
her love seemed to flow more naturally to the little Eliza
than to her own daughter; for she was the exact image and
body of the child whom she had lost. The little one was a
flowery bond between mother and daughter, through whom
grew up acquaintanceship and affection. Eliza's steady, consistent
word, made her a proper guide for the shattered and wearied
mind of her mother. Cassy yielded at once, and with her
whole soul, to every good influence, and became a devout
and tender Christian.
After a day or two, Madame de Thoux told her brother
more particularly of her affairs. The death of her husband
had left her an ample fortune, which she generously offered
to share with the family. When she asked George what
way she could best apply it for him, he answered, “Give me
an education, Emily; that has always been my heart's desire.
Then, I can do all the rest.”
On mature deliberation, it was decided that the whole
family should go, for some years, to France; whither they
sailed, carrying Emmeline with them.
The good looks of the latter won the affection of the first
mate of the vessel; and, shortly after entering the port, she
became his wife.
George remained four years at a French university, and,
applying himself with an unintermitted zeal, obtained a very
thorough education.
Political troubles in France, at last, led the family again
to seek an asylum in this country.
George's feelings and views, as an educated man, may be
best expressed in a letter to one of his friends.
“I feel somewhat at a loss, as to my future course. True,
as you have said to me, I might mingle in the circles of the
whites, in this country, my shade of color is so slight, and
that of my wife and family scarce perceptible. Well,
perhaps, on sufferance, I might. But, to tell you the truth,
I have no wish to.
“My sympathies are not for my father's race, but for my
to my poor heart-broken mother I was a child; and, though
I never saw her, after the cruel sale that separated us, till she
died, yet I know she always loved me dearly. I know it by
my own heart. When I think of all she suffered, of my own
early sufferings, of the distresses and struggles of my heroic
wife, of my sister, sold in the New Orleans slave-market, —
though I hope to have no unchristian sentiments, yet I may
be excused for saying, I have no wish to pass for an American,
or to identify myself with them.
“It is with the oppressed, enslaved African race that I
cast in my lot; and, if I wished anything, I would wish myself
two shades darker, rather than one lighter.
“The desire and yearning of my soul is for an African
nationality. I want a people that shall have a tangible,
separate existence of its own; and where am I to look for it?
Not in Hayti; for in Hayti they had nothing to start with.
A stream cannot rise above its fountain. The race that
formed the character of the Haytiens was a worn-out, effeminate
one; and, of course, the subject race will be centuries in
rising to anything.
“Where, then, shall I look? On the shores of Africa I
see a republic, — a republic formed of picked men, who, by
energy and self-educating force, have, in many cases, individually,
raised themselves above a condition of slavery. Having
gone through a preparatory stage of feebleness, this republic
has, at last, become an acknowledge nation on the face of
the earth, — acknowledged by both France and England.
There it is my wish to go, and find myself a people.
“I am aware, now, that I shall have you all against me;
but, before you strike, hear me. During my stay in France,
I have followed up, with intense interest, the history of my
and colonizationist, and have received some impressions,
as a distant spectator, which could never have occurred
to me as a participator.
“I grant that this Liberia may have subserved all sorts of
purposes, by being played off, in the hands of our oppressors,
against us. Doubtless the scheme may have been used, in
unjustifiable ways, as a means of retarding our emancipation.
But the question to me is, Is there not a God above all man's
schemes? May He not have overruled their designs, and
founded for us a nation by them?
“In these days, a nation is born in a day. A nation starts,
now, with all the great problems of republican life and civilization
wrought out to its hand; — it has not to discover, but
only to apply. Let us, then, all take hold together, with all
our might, and see what we can do with this new enterprise,
and the whole splendid continent of Africa opens before us
and our children. Our nation shall roll the tide of civilization
and Christianity along its shores, and plant there mighty
republics, that, growing with the rapidity of tropical vegetation,
shall be for all coming ages.
“Do you say that I am deserting my enslaved brethren?
I think not. If I forget them one hour, one moment of my
life, so may God forget me! But, what can I do for them,
here? Can I break their chains? No, not as an individual;
but, let me go and form part of a nation, which shall have a
voice in the councils of nations, and then we can speak. A
nation has a right to argue, remonstrate, implore, and present
the cause of its race, — which an individual has not.
“If Europe ever becomes a grand council of free nations,
— as I trust in God it will, — if, there, serfdom, and all unjust
and oppressive social inequalities, are done away; and if they,
— then, in the great congress of nations, we will make our
appeal, and present the cause of our enslaved and suffering
race; and it cannot be that free, enlightened America will
not then desire to wipe from her escutcheon that bar sinister
which disgraces her among nations, and is as truly a curse to
her as to the enslaved.
“But, you will tell me, our race have equal rights to
mingle in the American republic as the Irishman, the German,
the Swede. Granted, they have. We ought to be free to
meet and mingle, — to rise by our individual worth, without
any consideration of caste or color; and they who deny us
this right are false to their own professed principles of human
equality. We ought, in particular, to be allowed here. We
have more than the rights of common men; — we have the
claim of an injured race for reparation. But, then, I do not
want it; I want a country, a nation, of my own. I think
that the African race has peculiarities, yet to be unfolded in
the light of civilization and Christianity, which, if not the
same with those of the Anglo-Saxon, may prove to be, morally,
of even a higher type.
“To the Anglo-Saxon race has been intrusted the destinies
of the world, during its pioneer period of struggle and conflict.
To that mission its stern, inflexible, energetic elements, were
well adapted; but, as a Christian, I look for another era to
arise. On its borders I trust we stand; and the throes that
now convulse the nations are, to my hope, but the birth-pangs
of an hour of universal peace and brotherhood.
“I trust that the development of Africa is to be essentially
a Christian one. If not a dominant and commanding race,
they are, at least, an affectionate, magnanimous, and forgiving
one. Having been called in the furnace of injustice and
sublime doctrine of love and forgiveness, through which alone
they are to conquer, which it is to be their mission to spread
over the continent of Africa.
“In myself, I confess, I am feeble for this, — full half the
blood in my veins is the hot and hasty Saxon; but I have an
eloquent preacher of the Gospel ever by my side, in the person
of my beautiful wife. When I wander, her gentler spirit
ever restores me, and keeps before my eyes the Christian
calling and mission of our race. As a Christian patriot, as a
teacher of Christianity, I go to my country, — my chosen, my
glorious Africa! — and to her, in my heart, I sometimes
apply those splendid words of prophecy: `Whereas thou hast
been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee;
I will make thee an eternal excellence, a joy of many generations!'
“You will call me an enthusiast: you will tell me that I
have not well considered what I am undertaking. But I have
considered, and counted the cost. I go to Liberia, not as to
an Elysium of romance, but as to a field of work. I expect
to work with both hands, — to work hard; to work against
all sorts of difficulties and discouragements; and to work till
I die. This is what I go for; and in this I am quite sure I
shall not be disappointed.
“Whatever you may think of my determination, do not
divorce me from your confidence; and think that, in whatever
I do, I act with a heart wholly given to my people.
George, with his wife, children, sister and mother, embarked
for Africa, some few weeks after. If we are not mistaken,
the world will yet hear from him there.
Of our other characters we have nothing very particular to
write, except a word relating to Miss Ophelia and Topsy, and
a farewell chapter, which we shall dedicate to George Shelby.
Miss Ophelia took Topsy home to Vermont with her, much
to the surprise of that grave deliberative body whom a New
Englander recognizes under the term “Our folks.” “Our
folks,” at first, thought it an odd and unnecessary addition
to their well-trained domestic establishment; but, so
thoroughly efficient was Miss Ophelia in her conscientious
endeavor to do her duty by her elève, that the child rapidly
grew in grace and in favor with the family and neighborhood.
At the age of womanhood, she was, by her own request, baptized,
and became a member of the Christian church in the
place; and showed so much intelligence, activity and zeal, and
desire to do good in the world, that she was at last recommended,
and approved, as a missionary to one of the stations
in Africa; and we have heard that the same activity and ingenuity
which, when a child, made her so multiform and restless
in her developments, is now employed, in a safer and
wholesomer manner, in teaching the children of her own
country.
P. S. — It will be a satisfaction to some mother, also, to
state, that some inquiries, which were set on foot by Madame
de Thoux, have resulted recently in the discovery of Cassy's
son. Being a young man of energy, he had escaped, some
years before his mother, and been received and educated by
friends of the oppressed in the north. He will soon follow his
family to Africa.
| CHAPTER XLIII.
RESULTS. Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly | |