University of Virginia Library

38. CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE LAWYER AND THE LADY.

PEEK'S apprehensions in regard to Ratcliff's agent,
Semmes, were not imaginary. Semmes was of the
school in politics and policy of old Mr. Slidell. He did not
believe in the vitality and absoluteness of right and goodness.
His life maxim was, while bowing and smirking to all the world,
to hold all the world as cheats. To his mind, slavery was right,
because it was profitable; and inwardly he pooh-poohed at
every attempt to vindicate or to condemn it from a moral or
religious point of view. He laid it down as an axiom, that
slavery must exist just so long as it paid.

“Worthy souls, sir, these philanthropists, — but they want
the virile element, — the practical element, sir! Like women
and poets, they are led by their emotions. If the world were
in the hands of such softs, the old machine would be smashed
up in universal anarchy.”

Ah, thou blind guide! These tender souls thou scornest
are they who always prevail in the long run. They prevail,
because God rules through them, and because he does not withdraw
himself utterly from human affairs! They prevail because
Christ's doctrine of self-abnegation, and of justice and
love, is the very central principle of progress, whether in the
heavens or on the earth; because it is the keystone of the
arch by which all things are upheld and saved from chaos.
Yes, Divine duty, Charity! “Thou dost preserve the stars
from wrong, — and the most ancient heavens, through thee,
are fresh and strong!”

Benjamin Constant remarked of conservative Talleyrand,
that had he been present at the creation of all things, he would
have exclaimed, “Good God! chaos will be destroyed!” Beware

of the conservatism that would impede God's work of
justice and of love!

Ratcliff, in his last confidential interview with Semmes, had
communicated to the lawyer all the facts which he himself was
in possession of in regard to the White Slave. In the quiet
of Ratcliff's library, Semmes now carefully revolved and
weighed all these particulars. The fact that Clara might be
wrongfully held as a slave made little impression upon him,
his proper business being to conform to his client's wishes and
to make his client's claim as strong as possible, without regard
to any other considerations. What puzzled him greatly was
Madam Volney's apparent interest in Clara; and as for Esha,
she was a perfect sphinx in her impenetrability. As he pondered
the question of her fidelity, the thought occurred to him,
Why not learn something of her antecedents from Mrs. Gentry?
A good idea!

That very evening he knocked at the door of the “select
establishment.” A bright-faced black boy had run up the steps
in advance of him, and asked who it was he wanted to see.
“Mrs. Gentry.” “Well, sir, she 's in. Just give the bell a
good pull.” And the officious boy disappeared. A minute afterwards
the lawyer was seated in the lady's presence in her
little parlor.

“And have you heard from poor Mr. Ratcliff?” she asked.

“He is still in confinement, I believe, in Fort Lafayette.”

“Ah! is he, poor man?” returned the lady; and it was on
her mind to add: “I knew he would be come up with! I said
he would be come up with!” But she repressed the exulting
exclamation, and simply added: “Those horrid Yankees! Do
you think, Mr. Semmes, we are in any danger from this downeast
general, known as Picayune Butler?”

“Don't be under concern, Madam. He may be a sharp lawyer,
but if he ever comes to New Orleans, it will be as a
prisoner.”

“And how is Miss Murray?”

“Never better, or handsomer. And by the way, I wish to
make some inquiries respecting the colored woman Esha, who,
I believe, lived some time in your family.”

“Yes, Esha lived with me fifteen years. A capital cook,

and good washer and ironer. I would n't have parted with
her if Mr. Ratcliff had n't been so set on borrowing her. She
was here some days ago about that deposition business.”

“O yes,” said Semmes, thoroughly startled, yet concealing
every sign of surprise, and remarking: “By the way, how did
you get through with that business?”

“O, very well. Mr. Jasper and the other gentlemen were
very polite and considerate.”

Jasper! He was the counsel in the great case of Winslow
versus Burrows. Probably he was now Winslow's confidential
agent and adviser. Semmes's thin, wiry hands closed together,
as if grasping a clew that would lead him to hidden treasures.

“I hope,” said he, carefully trying his ground, “you were n't
incommoded by the application.”

“Not at all. I only had to refer to my account-books, which
gave me all the necessary dates. And as for the child's clothes,
they were in an old trunk in the garret, where they had n't been
touched for fifteen years. I had forgotten all about them till
Mr. Jasper asked me whether I had any such articles.”

Semmes was still in the dark.

“And was Esha's testimony taken?”

“Yes, though I don't see of what use it can be, seeing that
she 's a slave, and her deposition is worthless under our laws.”

“To what did Esha depose?”

“Have n't you seen the depositions?”

“O yes! But not having read them carefully as yet, I
should like the benefit of your recollections.”

“O, Esha merely identified the girl's clothes and the initials
marked upon them, — for she knows the alphabet. She also
remembered seeing Mr. Ratcliff lift the child out of the barouche
the day he first called here. All which was taken
down.”

“Could you let me see the clothes and the account-books?”

“I gave them all up to Mr. Jasper. Did n't he tell you
so?”

“Perhaps. I may have forgotten.”

Semmes bade Mrs. Gentry good evening.

“Headed off by all that 's unfortunate!” muttered he, as he
walked away. “And by that smooth Churchman, Jasper!

Why did n't I think to hermetically seal up this Mrs. Gentry's
clack, and take away all her traps and books? And Esha, —
if she were n't playing false, she would have reported all this to
me at once. But I 'll let the old hag see that, deep as she is,
she is n't beyond the reach of my plummet. That pretended
brother of hers, too! He must be looked after. I should n't
wonder if he were a spy of Winslow's. I must venture upon
a coup d'état at once, if I would defeat their plottings. How
shall I manage it?”

Semmes had on his books heavy charges against Ratcliff for
professional services, and did not care to jeopard their payment
by any slackness in attending to that gentleman's parting injunctions.
He saw he would be justified in any act of precaution,
however extreme, that was undertaken in good faith towards
his client. And so he resolved on two steps: one was to
arrest Esha's pretended brother, and the other to withdraw
Clara from the surveillance of Esha and Madame Volney.

Peek had not been idle meanwhile. For several weeks he
had employed a boy to dog Semmes's footsteps; and when that
enterprising lad brought word of the lawyer's visit to Mrs.
Gentry's, Peek saw that his own communications with the
women at Ratcliff's were cut off. He immediately sent word
of the fact to Esha, and told her to redouble her caution.

Semmes waited three days in the hope that Peek would
make his appearance; but at length growing impatient, took
occasion to accost the impracticable Esha.

“Esha, can that brother of yours drive a carriage?”

“O yes, massa, he can do eb'ry ting.”

“Well, Jim wants to go up to Baton Rouge to see his wife,
and I 've no objection to hiring your brother awhile in his
place.”

“Dar 's noting Jake would like quite so well, massa; but
how unfortnit it am! — Jake 's gone to Natchez.”

“Where does Jake live when he 's here?”

“Yah, yah! Dat 's a good joke. Whar does he lib? He
lib all 'bout in spots. Jake 's got more wives nor ole Brigham
Young.”

Finding he could make nothing out of Esha, Semmes resolved
on his second precaution; for he felt that, with two

plotting women against him, his charge was likely any moment
to be abstracted from under his eyes. He had the letting of
several vacant houses, some of them furnished. If he could
secretly transfer Clara to one of these, he could guard and hold
her there without being in momentary dread of her escape.
He thought long and anxiously, and finally nodded his head as
if the right scheme had been hit upon at last.

Clara was an early riser. Every morning, in company with
Esha, she took a promenade in the little garden in the rear
of the house. One morning as they were thus engaged, and
Clara was noticing the indications of spring among the early
buds and blossoms (though it was yet March), a woman, newly
employed as a seamstress in the family, called out from the
kitchen window, “O Esha! Come quick! Black Susy is
trying to catch Minnie, to kill her for stealing cream.” Minnie
was a favorite cat, petted by Madame Volney.

“Don't let her do it, Esha!” exclaimed Clara. “Run quick,
and prevent it!”

Esha ran. But no sooner had she disappeared over the
threshold than Clara, who stood admiring an almond-tree in
full bloom, felt a hood thrown over her face from behind, while
both her hands were seized to prevent resistance. The hood
was so strongly saturated with chloroform, that almost before
she could utter a cry she was insensible.

When Clara returned to consciousness, she found herself
lying on a bed in a large and elegant apartment. The rich
Parisian furniture, the Turkish carpet, and the amber-colored
silk curtains told of wealth and sumptuous tastes. Her first
movement was to feel for the little dagger which she carried
in a sheath in a hidden pocket. She found it was safe. The
windows were open, and the pleasant morning breeze came in
soft and cool.

As she raised herself on her elbow and looked about, a
woman wearing the white starched linen bonnet of a Sister of
Charity rose from a chair and stood before her. The face of
this woman had a tender and serious expression, but the head
showed a deficiency in the intellectual regions. Indeed, Sister
Agatha was at once a saint and a simpleton; credulous as a
child, though pious as Ignatius himself. She was not in truth

a recognized member of the intelligent order whose garb she
wore. She had been rejected because of those very traits she
now revealed; but being regarded as harmless, she was suffered
to play the Sister on her own account, procuring alms
from the charitable, and often using them discreetly. Having
called at Semmes's office on a begging visit, he had recognized
in her a fitting tool, and had secured her confidence by a liberal
contribution and an affectation of rare piety.

“How do you feel now, my dear?” asked Agatha.

“What has happened?” said Clara, trying to recall the circumstances
which had led to her present position. “Who are
you? Where 's Esha? Why is not Josephine here?”

“There! don't get excited,” said the sister. “Your poor
brain has been in a whirl, — that 's all.”

“Please tell me who you are, and why I am here, and what
has happened.”

“I am Sister Agatha. I have been engaged by Mr. Semmes
to take care of you. What has happened is, — you have had
one of your bad turns, that 's all.”

Clara pondered the past silently for a full minute; then,
turning to the woman, said: “You would not knowingly do a
bad act. I get that assurance from your face. Have they told
you I was insane?”

“There, dear, be quiet! Lie down, and don't distress yourself,”
said Sister Agatha. “We 'll have some breakfast for
you soon.”

“You speak of my having had a bad turn,” resumed Clara.
“What sort of a bad turn? A fit?”

“Yes, dear, a fit.”

“Come nearer to me, Sister Agatha. Don't you perceive
an odor of chloroform on my clothes?”

“Why not? They gave it for your relief.”

“No; they gave it to render me powerless, that they might
bring me without a struggle to this place out of the reach of
the two friends with whom I have been living. Sister Agatha,
don't let them deceive you. Do I talk or look like an insane
person? Do not fear to answer me. I shall not be offended.”

“Yes, child, you both talk and look as if you were not in
your right mind. So be a good girl and compose yourself.”

Clara stepped on the floor, walked to the window, and saw
that she was in the third story of a spacious house. She tried
the doors. They were all locked, with the exception of one
which communicated by a little entry, occupied by closets, with
a corresponding room which looked out on the street from the
front.

“I am a prisoner within these rooms, am I?” asked Clara.

“Yes, there 's no way by which you can get out. But here
is everything comfortable, you see. In the front room you will
find a piano and a case of pious books. Here is a bathingroom,
where you can have hot water or cold. This door on
my right leads to a billiard-table, where you can go and play,
if you are good. You need not lack for air or exercise.”

“When can I see Mr. Semmes?”

“He promised to be here by ten o'clock.”

“Do not fail to let me see him when he comes. Sister Agatha,
is there any way by which I can prove to you I am not insane?”

“No; because the more shrewd and sensible you are, the
more I shall think you are out of your head. Insane people
are always cunning. You have showed great cunning in all
you have said and done.”

“Then if I turn simple, you will think I am recovering, eh?”

“No; I shall think you are feigning. Why, I once passed
a whole day with a crazy woman, and never one moment suspected
she was crazy till I was told so.”

“Who told you I am crazy?”

“The gentleman who engaged me to attend you, — Mr.
Semmes.”

“Am I crazy only on one point or on many?”

“You ought to know best. I believe you are what they call
a monomaniac. You are crazy on the subject of freedom. You
want to be free.”

“But, Sister Agatha, if you were shut up in a house against
your will, would n't you desire to be free?”

“There it is! I knew you would put things cunningly. But
I 'm prepared for it. You must n't think to deceive me, child,
Why not be honest, and confess your wits are wandering?”

The door of the communicating room was here unlocked.

“What 's that?” asked Clara.

“They are bringing in your breakfast,” said the sister. “I
hope you have an appetite.”

Though faint and sick at heart, Clara resolved to conceal her
emotions. So she sat down and made a show of eating.

“I will leave you awhile,” said the sister. “If you want
anything, you can ring.”

Left to herself, Clara rose and promenaded the apartment,
her thoughts intently turned inward to a survey of her position.
Why had she been removed to this new abode? Plainly because
Semmes feared she would be aided by her companions in
baffling his vigilance and effecting her escape. Clara knelt by
the bedside and prayed for light and guidance; and an inward
voice seemed to say to her: “You talk of trusting God, and
yet you only half trust him.”

What could it mean? Clara meditated upon it long and
anxiously. What had been her motive in procuring the dagger!
A mixed motive and vague. Perhaps it was to take her
own life, perhaps another's. Had she not reached that point
of faith that she could believe God would save her from both
these alternatives? Yes; she would doubt no longer. Walking
to the back window she drew the dagger from its sheath
and threw it far out into a clump of rose-bushes that grew rank
in the centre of the area.

The key turned in the door, and Sister Agatha appeared.

“Mr. Semmes is here. Can he come in?”

“Yes. I 've been waiting for him.”

The sister withdrew and the gentleman entered.

“Sit down,” said Clara. “For what purpose am I confined
here?”

“My dear young lady, you desire to be treated with frankness.
You are sensible, — you are well educated, — you are
altogether charming; but you are a slave.”

“Stop there, sir! How do you know I 'm a slave?”

“Of course I am bound to take the testimony of my client,
an honorable gentleman, on that point.”

“Have you examined the record! Can Mr. Ratcliff produce
any evidence that the child he bought was white? Look
at me. Look at this arm. Do you believe my parentage is
other than pure Saxon? If that does n't shake your belief,

let me tell you that I have proofs that I am the only surviving
child of that same Mr. and Mrs. Berwick who were lost more
than fourteen years ago in a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi.”

“Proofs? You have proofs? Impossible! What are
they?”

“That I do not choose to tell you. Only I warn you that
the proofs exist, and that you are lending yourself to a fraud
in helping your client to hold me as a slave.”

“My dear young lady, don't encourage such wild, romantic
dreams. Some one, for a wicked purpose, has put them into
your head. The only child of Mr. and Mrs. Berwick was lost
with them, as was clearly proved on the trial that grew out of
the disaster, and their large property passed into the possession
of a distant connection.”

“But what if the story of the child's loss was a lie, — what
if she was saved, — then kidnapped, — then sold as a slave?
What if she now stands before you?”

“As a lawyer I must say, I don't see it. And even if it
were all true, what an incalculable advantage the man who
has millions in possession will have over any claimant who
can't offer a respectable fee in advance! Who holds the pursestrings,
wins. 'T is an invariable rule, my child.”

“God will defend the right, Mr. Semmes; and I advise you
to range yourself on his side forthwith.”

“It would n't do for me to desert my client. That would be
grossly unprofessional.”

“Even if satisfied your client was in the wrong?”

“My dear young lady, that 's just the predicament where a
lawyer's services are most needed. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, for I 'm not in the wrong. My cause is that of
justice and humanity. You cannot serve it.”

“In that remark you wound my amour propre. Now let me
put the case for my client: Accidentally attending an auction
he buys an infant slave. He brings her up tenderly and well.
He spares no expense in her education. No sooner does she
reach a marriageable age, than, discarding all gratitude for his
kindness, she runs away. He discovers her, and she is brought
to his house. His wife dying, he proposes to marry and emancipate

this ungrateful young woman. Instead of being touched
by his generosity, she plots to baffle and disappoint him. Who
could blame him if he were to put her up at auction to-morrow
and sell her to the highest bidder?”

“If you speak in sincerity, sir, then you are, morally considered,
blind as an owl; if in raillery, then you are cruel as a
wolf.”

“My dear young lady, you show in your every remark that
you are a cultivated person; that you are naturally clever, and
that education has added its polish. How charming it would
be to see one so gifted and accomplished placed in that position
of wealth and rank which she would so well adorn! There
must never be unpleasant words between me and the future
Mrs. Ratcliff, — never!”

“Then, sir, you 're safe, however angrily I may speak.”

“Your pin-money alone, my dear young lady, will be enough
to support half a dozen ordinary families.”

Clara made no reply, and Semmes continued: “Think of it!
First, the tour of Europe in princely style; then a return to
the most splendid establishment in Louisiana!”

“Well, sir, if your eloquence is exhausted, you can do me a
favor.”

“What is it, my dear young lady?”

“Leave the room.”

“Certainly. By the way, I expect Mr. Ratcliff any hour
now.”

“I thought he was in Fort Lafayette!” replied Clara, trying
to steady her voice and conceal her agitation.

“No. He succeeded in escaping. His letter is dated Richmond.”

Clara made no reply, and the old lawyer passed out, muttering:
“Poor little simpleton. 'T is only a freak. No woman in
her senses could resist such an offer. She 'll thank me one of
these days for my anæsthetic practice.”