University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
AUNT NESBIT'S LOSS.

On entering the house, Nina was met at the door by
Milly, with a countenance of some anxiety.

“Miss Nina,” she said, “your aunt has heard bad news,
this morning.”

“Bad news!” said Nina, quickly, — “what?”

“Well, honey, ye see dere has been a lawyer here,” said
Milly, following Nina as she was going up stairs; “and
she has been shut up with him all de mornin'; and when he
come out I found her taking on quite dreadful! And she
says she has lost all her property.”

“O! is that all?” said Nina. “I did n't know what
dreadful thing might have happened. Why, Milly, this
is n't so very bad. She had n't much to lose.”

“O, bless you, chile! nobody wants to lose all they got,
much or little!”

“Yes; but,” said Nina, “you know she can always live
here with us; and what little money she wants to fuss with,
to buy new caps, and paregoric for her cough, and all such
little matters, we can give her, easily enough.”

“Ah, Miss Nina, your heart is free enough; you 'd give
away both ends of the rainbow, if you had 'em to give.
But the trouble is, chile, you have n't got 'em. Why,
chile, dis yer great place, and so many mouths opened to
eat and eat, chile, I tell you it takes heaps to keep it
a going. And Harry, I tell you, finds it hard work to bring
it even all the year round, though he never says nothing to
you about his troubles, — wants you always to walk on

flowers, with both hands full, and never think where they
come from. I tell you what, chile, we 's boun' to think for
you a little; and I tell you what, I 's jist a going to hire
out.”

“Why, Milly, how ridiculous!”

“It an't ridiculous, now. Why, just look on it, Miss
Nina. Here 's Miss Loo, dat 's one; here 's me, dat 's
two; here 's Polly, — great grown girl, — three; dere 's
Tomtit, four; all on us, eating your bread, and not bringing
in a cent to you, 'cause all on us together an't done much
more than wait on Miss Loo. Why, you 's got servants
enough of your own to do every turn that wants doing in
dis yer house. I know, Miss Nina, young ladies don't like
to hear about dese things; but the fac' is, victuals cost
something, and dere must be some on us to bring in something.
Now, dat ar gentleman what talked with your
aunt, he said he could find me a right good place up dar to
the town, and I was just a going. Sally, she is big enough
now to do everything that I have been used to doing for
Miss Loo, and I am jest a going; besides, to tell you the
truth, I think Miss Loo has kind o' set her heart upon it.
You know she is a weakly kind of thing, — don't know how
to do much 'cept sit in her chair and groan. She has
always been so used to having me make a way for her; and
when I told her about dis yer, she kind o' brightened
up.”

“But, Milly, what shall I do? I can't spare you at all,”
said Nina.

“Law bless you, chile! don't you suppose I 's got eyes?
I tell you, Miss Nina, I looked that gen'leman over pretty
well for you, and my opinion is he 'll do.'

“O, come, you hush!” said Nina.

“You see, chile, it would n't be everybody that our
people would be willing to have come on to the place, here;
but there an't one of 'em that would n't go in for dis yer,
now I tell you. Dere 's Old Hundred, as you calls him,
told me 't was just as good as a meeting to hear him reading

the prayers dat ar day at de funeral. Now, you see,
I 's seen gen 'lemen handsome, and rich, and right pleasant,
too, dat de people would n't want at all; 'cause why?
dey has dere frolics and drinks, and de money flies one
way for dis ting and one way for dat, till by and by it 's
all gone. Den comes de sheriff, and de people is all
sold, some one way and some another way. Now, Mr.
Clayton, he an't none of dem.”

“But, Milly, all this may be very well; but if I could n't
love him?”

“Law sakes, Miss Nina! You look me in the face and
tell me dat ar? Why, chile, it 's plain enough to see
through you. 'T is so! The people 's all pretty sure, by
this time. Sakes alive, we 's used to looking out for the
weather; and we knows pretty well what 's coming. And
now, Miss Nina, you go right along and give him a good
word, 'cause you see, dear lamb, you need a good husband
to take care of you, — dat 's what you want, chile. Girls
like you has a hard life being at the head of a place, especially
your brother being just what he is. Now, if you had
a husband here, Mas'r Tom 'ud be quiet, 'cause he knows
he could n't do nothing. But just as long as you 's alone
he 'll plague you. But, now, chile, it 's time for you to
be getting ready for dinner.”

“O, but, do you know, Milly,” said Nina, “I 've something
to tell you, which I had liked to have forgotten! I
have been out to the Belleville plantation, and bought
Harry's wife.”

“You has, Miss Nina! Why, de Lord bless you! Why,
Harry was dreadful worked, dis yer morning, 'bout what
Mas'r Tom said. 'Peared like he was most crazy.”

“Well,” said Nina, “I 've done it. I 've got the receipt
here.”

“Why, but, chile, where alive did you get all the money
to pay down right sudden so?”

“Mr. Clayton lent it to me,” said Nina.

“Mr. Clayton! Now, chile, did n't I tell you so? Do

you suppose, now, you 'd a let him lend you dat ar money
if you had n't liked him? But, come, chile, hurry! Dere 's
Mas'r Tom and dat other gen 'leman coming back, and you
must be down to dinner.”

The company assembled at the dinner-table was not
particularly enlivening. Tom Gordon, who, in the course
of his morning ride, had discovered the march which his
sister had stolen upon him, was more sulky and irritable
than usual, though too proud to make any allusion to the
subject. Nina was annoyed by the presence of Mr. Jekyl,
whom her brother insisted should remain to dinner. Aunt
Nesbit was uncommonly doleful, of course. Clayton, who,
in mixed society, generally took the part of a listener
rather than a talker, said very little; and had it not been
for Carson, there 's no saying whether any of the company
could have spoken. Every kind of creature has its uses,
and there are times when a lively, unthinking chatterbox is
a perfect godsend. Those unperceiving people, who never
notice the embarrassment of others, and who walk with the
greatest facility into the gaps of conversation, simply
because they have no perception of any difficulty there,
have their hour; and Nina felt positively grateful to Mr.
Carson for the continuous and cheerful rattle which had so
annoyed her the day before. Carson drove a brisk talk
with the lawyer about the value of property, percentage,
etc.; he sympathized with Aunt Nesbit on her last-caught
cold; rallied Tom on his preöccupation; complimented Nina
on her improved color from her ride; and seemed on such
excellent terms both with himself and everybody else, that
the thing was really infectious.

“What do you call your best investments, down here, —
land, eh?” he said to Mr. Jekyl.

Mr. Jekyl shook his head.

“Land deteriorates too fast. Besides, there 's all the
trouble and risk of overseers, and all that. I 've looked this
thing over pretty well, and I always invest in niggers.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Carson, “you do?”

“Yes, sir, I invest in niggers; that 's what I do; and
I hire them out, sir, — hire them out. Why, sir, if a man
has a knowledge of human nature, knows where to buy and
when to buy, and watches his opportunity, he gets a better
percentage on his money that way than any other. Now, that
was what I was telling Mrs. Nesbit, this morning. Say,
now, that you give one thousand dollars for a man, — and
I always buy the best sort, that 's economy, — well, and
he gets — put it at the lowest figure — ten dollars a
month wages, and his living. Well, you see there, that
gives you a pretty handsome sum for your money. I have
a good talent of buying. I generally prefer mechanics. I
have got now working for me three bricklayers. I own two
first-rate carpenters, and last month I bought a perfect
jewel of a blacksmith. He is an uncommonly ingenious
man; a fellow that will make, easy, his fifteen dollars a
month; and he is the more valuable because he has been
religiously brought up. Why, some of them, now, will cheat
you, if they can; but this fellow has been brought up in a
district where they have a missionary, and a great deal of
pains has been taken to form his religious principles.
Now, this fellow would no more think of touching a cent
of his earnings than he would of stealing right out of my
pocket. I tell people about him, sometimes, when I find
them opposed to religious instruction. I tell them, `See
there, now — you see how godliness is profitable to the life
that now is.' You know the Scriptures, Mrs. Nesbit?”

“Yes,” said Aunt Nesbit, “I always believed in religious
education.”

“Confound it all!” said Tom, “I don't! I don't see the
use of making a set of hypocritical sneaks of them! I 'd
make niggers bring me my money; but, hang it all, if he
came snuffling to me, pretending 't was his duty, I 'd choke
him! They never think so, — they don't, and they can't,
— and it 's all hypocrisy, this religious instruction, as you
call it!”

“No, it is n't,” said the undiscouraged Mr. Jekyl, “not

when you found it on right principles. Take them early
enough, and work them right, you 'll get it ground into
them. Now, when they begun religious instruction, there
was a great prejudice against it in our part of the country.
You see they were afraid that the niggers would get uppish.
Ah, but you see the missionaries are pretty careful; they
put it in strong in the catechisms about the rights of the
master. You see the instruction is just grounded on this,
that the master stands in God's place to them.”

“D—d bosh!” said Tom Gordon.

Aunt Nesbit looked across the table as if she were going
to faint. But Mr. Jekyl's composure was not in the
slightest degree interrupted.

“I can tell you,” he said, “that, in a business, practical
view, — for I am used to investments, — that, since the publishing
of those catechisms, and the missionaries' work
among the niggers, the value of that kind of property has
risen ten per cent. They are better contented. They don't
run away, as they used to. Just that simple idea that their
master stands in God's place to them. Why, you see, it
cuts its way.”

“I have a radical objection to all that kind of instruction,”
said Clayton.

Aunt Nesbit opened her eyes, as if she could hardly
believe her hearing.

“And pray what is your objection?” said Mr. Jekyl,
with an unmoved countenance.

“My objection is that it is all a lie,” said Clayton, in such
a positive tone that everybody looked at him with a start.

Clayton was one of those silent men who are seldom
roused to talk, but who go with a rush when they are. Not
seeming to notice the startled looks of the company, he
went on: “It 's a worse lie, because it 's told to bewilder a
simple, ignorant, confiding creature. I never could conceive
how a decent man could ever look another man in the
face and say such things. I remember reading, in one of
the missionary reports, that when this doctrine was first

propounded in an assembly of negroes somewhere, all the
most intelligent of them got up and walked deliberately out
of the house; and I honor them for it.”

“Good for them!” said Tom Gordon. “I can keep my
niggers down without any such stuff as that!”

“I have no doubt,” said Clayton, “that these missionaries
are well-intending, good men, and that they actually
think the only way to get access to the negroes at all is,
to be very positive in what will please the masters. But
I think they fall into the same error that the Jesuits did
when they adulterated Christianity with idolatry in order to
get admission in Japan. A lie never works well in religion,
nor in morals.”

“That 's what I believe,” said Nina, warmly.

“But, then, if you can't teach them this, what can you
teach them?” said Mr. Jekyl.

“Confound it all!” said Tom Gordon, “teach them that
you 've got the power! — teach them the weight of your fist!
That 's enough for them. I am bad enough, I know; but
I can't bear hypocrisy. I show a fellow my pistol. I say
to him, You see that, sir! I tell him, You do so and so, and
you shall have a good time with me. But, you do that, and
I 'll thrash you within an inch of your life! That 's my short
method with niggers, and poor whites, too. When one of
these canting fellows comes round to my plantation, let him
see what he 'll get, that 's all!”

Mr. Jekyl appeared properly shocked at this declaration.
Aunt Nesbit looked as if it was just what she had expected,
and went on eating her potato with a mournful air, as if
nothing could surprise her. Nina looked excessively annoyed,
and turned a sort of appealing glance upon Clayton.

“For my part,” said Clayton, “I base my religious instruction
to my people on the ground that every man and
every woman must give an account of themselves to God
alone; and that God is to be obeyed first, and before
me.”

“Why,” said Mr. Jekyl, “that would be destructive

of all discipline. If you are going to allow every fellow
to judge for himself, among a parcel of ignorant, selfish
wretches, what the will of God is, one will think it 's one
thing, another will think it 's another; and there will be an
end of all order. It would be absolutely impossible to
govern a place in that way.”

“They must not be left an ignorant set,” said Clayton.
“They must be taught to read the Scriptures for themselves,
and be able to see that my authority accords with
it. If I command anything contrary to it, they ought to
oppose it!”

“Ah! I should like to see a plantation managed in that
way!” said Tom Gordon, scornfully.

“Please God, you shall see such an one, if you 'll come to
mine,” said Clayton, “where I should be very happy to
see you, sir.”

The tone in which this was said was so frank and sincere,
that Tom was silenced, and could not help a rather
sullen acknowledgment.

“I think,” said Mr. Jekyl, “that you 'll find such a
course, however well it may work at first, will fail at last.
You begin to let people think, and they won't stop where
you want them to; they 'll go too far; it 's human nature.
The more you give, the more you may give. You once get
your fellows to thinking, and asking all sorts of questions,
and they get discontented at once. I 've seen that thing
tried in one or two instances, and it did n't turn out well.
Fellows got restless and discontented. The more was
given to them, the more dissatisfied they grew, till finally
they put for the free states.”

“Very well,” said Clayton; “if that 's to be the result,
they may all `put' as soon as they can get ready. If my
title to them won't bear an intelligent investigation, I don't
wish to keep them. But I never will consent to keep them
by making false statements to them in the name of religion,
and presuming to put myself as an object of obedience
before my Maker.”

“I think,” said Mr. Carson, “Mr. Clayton shows an excellent
spirit — excellent spirit! On my word, I think so.
I wish some of our northern agitators, who make such a
fuss on the subject, could hear him. I 'm always disgusted
with these abolitionists producing such an unpleasantness
between the north and the south, interrupting trade, and
friendship, and all that sort of thing.”

“He shows an excellent spirit,” said Mr. Jekyl; “but
I must think he is mistaken, if he thinks that he can bring
up people in that way, under our institutions, and not do
them more harm than good. It 's a notorious fact that
the worst insurrections have arisen from the reading of the
Bible by these ignorant fellows. That was the case with
Nat Turner, in Virginia. That was the case with Denmark
Vesey, and his crew, in South Carolina. I tell you, sir, it
will never do, this turning out a set of ignorant people to
pasture in the Bible! That blessed book is a savor of life
unto life when it 's used right; but it 's a savor of death
unto death when ignorant people take hold of it. The
proper way is this: administer such portions only as these
creatures are capable of understanding. This admirable
system of religious instruction keeps the matter in our own
hands, by allowing us to select for them such portions of
the word as are best fitted to keep them quiet, dutiful, and
obedient; and I venture to predict that whoever undertakes
to manage a plantation on any other system will
soon find it getting out of his hands.”

“So you are afraid to trust the Lord's word without
holding the bridle!” said Tom, with a sneer. “That 's
pretty well for you!”

“I am not!” said Clayton. “I 'm willing to resign any
rights to any one that I am not able to defend in God's
word — any that I cannot make apparent to any man's
cultivated reason. I scorn the idea that I must dwarf a
man's mind, and keep him ignorant and childish, in order
to make him believe any lie I choose to tell him about my
rights over him! I intend to have an educated, intelligent

people, who shall submit to me because they think it clearly
for their best interests to do so; because they shall feel
that what I command is right in the sight of God.”

“It 's my opinion,” said Tom, “that both these ways of
managing are humbugs. One way makes hypocrites, and
the other makes rebels. The best way of educating is, to
show folks that they can't help themselves. All the fussing
and arguing in the world is n't worth one dose of certainty
on that point. Just let them know that there are no two
ways about it, and you 'll have all still enough.”

From this point the conversation was pursued with considerable
warmth, till Nina and Aunt Nesbit rose and retired
to the drawing-room. Perhaps it did not materially discourage
Clayton, in the position he had taken, that Nina, with the
frankness usual to her, expressed the most eager and undisguised
admiration of all that he said.

“Did n't he talk beautifully? Was n't it noble?” she
said to Aunt Nesbit, as she came in the drawing-room.
“And that hateful Jekyl! is n't he mean?”

“Child!” said Aunt Nesbit, “I 'm surprised to hear
you speak so! Mr. Jekyl is a very respectable lawyer, an
elder in the church, and a very pious man. He has given
me some most excellent advice about my affairs; and he is
going to take Milly with him, and find her a good place.
He 's been making some investigations, Nina, and he 's
going to talk to you about them, after dinner. He 's discovered
that there 's an estate in Mississippi worth a hundred
thousand dollars, that ought properly to come to you!”

“I don't believe a word of it!” said Nina. “Don't like
the man! — think he is hateful! — don't want to hear anything
he has to say! — don't believe in him!”

“Nina, how often I have warned you against such sudden
prejudices — against such a good man, too!”

“You won't make me believe he is good, not if he were
elder in twenty churches!”

“Well, but, child, at any rate you must listen to what
he has got to say. Your brother will be very angry if you

don't; and it 's really very important. At any rate, you
ought not to offend Tom, when you can help it.”

“That 's true enough,” said Nina; “and I 'll hear, and
try and behave as well as I can. I hope the man will go,
some time or other! I don't know why, but his talk makes
me feel worse than Tom's swearing! That 's certain.”

Aunt Nesbit looked at Nina as if she considered her in a
most hopeless condition.