University of Virginia Library

32. CHAPTER XXXII.
LYNCH LAW AGAIN.

The reader next beholds Clayton at Magnolia Grove,
whither he had fled to recruit his exhausted health and
spirits. He had been accompanied there by Frank Russel.

Our readers may often have observed how long habits of
intimacy may survive between two persons who have embarked
in moral courses, which, if pursued, must eventually
separate them forever.

For such is the force of moral elements, that the ambitious
and self-seeking cannot always walk with those who
love good for its own sake. In this world, however, where
all these things are imperfectly developed, habits of intimacy
often subsist a long time between the most opposing
affinities.

The fact was that Russel would not give up the society
of Clayton. He admired the very thing in him which he
wanted himself; and he comforted himself for not listening
to his admonitions by the tolerance and good-nature with
which he had always heard them. When he heard that he
was ill, he came to him and insisted upon travelling with
him, attending him with the utmost fidelity and kindness.

Clayton had not seen Anne before since his affliction —
both because his time had been very much engaged, and
because they who cannot speak of their sorrows often shrink
from the society of those whose habits of intimacy and affection
might lead them to desire such confidence. But he
was not destined in his new retreat to find the peace he
desired. Our readers may remember that there were intimations

conveyed through his sister some time since of discontent
arising in the neighborhood.

The presence of Tom Gordon soon began to make itself
felt. As a conductor introduced into an electric atmosphere
will draw to itself the fluid, so he became an organizing
point for the prevailing dissatisfaction.

He went to dinner-parties and talked; he wrote in the
nearest paper; he excited the inflammable and inconsiderate;
and, before he had been there many weeks, a vigilance
association was formed among the younger and more hot-headed
of his associates, to search out and extirpate covert
abolitionism. Anne and her brother first became sensible of
an entire cessation of all those neighborly acts of kindness
and hospitality, in which Southern people, when in a good
humor, are so abundant.

At last, one day Clayton was informed that three or four
gentlemen of his acquaintance were wishing to see him in
the parlor below.

On descending, he was received first by his nearest neighbor,
Judge Oliver, a fine-looking elderly gentleman, of influential
family connection.

He was attended by Mr. Bradshaw, whom we have
already introduced to our readers, and by a Mr. Knapp,
who was a very wealthy planter, a man of great energy and
ability, who had for some years figured as the representative
of his native state in Congress.

It was evident, by the embarrassed air of the party, that
they had come on business of no pleasing character.

It is not easy for persons, however much excited they
may be, to enter at once upon offensive communications to
persons who receive them with calm and gentlemanly civility;
therefore, after being seated, and having discussed the
ordinary topics of the weather and the crops, the party
looked one upon another, in a little uncertainty which should
begin the real business of the interview.

“Mr. Clayton,” at length said Judge Oliver, “we are
really sorry to be obliged to make disagreeable communications

to you. We have all of us had the sincerest respect
for your family, and for yourself. I have known and honored
your father many years, Mr. Clayton; and, for my own
part, I must say I anticipated much pleasure from your residence
in our neighborhood. I am really concerned to be
obliged to say anything unpleasant; but I am under the
necessity of telling you that the course you have been pursuing
with regard to your servants, being contrary to the
laws and usages of our social institutions, can no longer be
permitted among us. You are aware that the teaching of
slaves to read and write is forbidden by the law, under
severe penalties. We have always been liberal in the interpretation
of this law. Exceptional violations, conducted
with privacy and discretion, in the case of favored servants,
whose general good conduct seems to merit such confidence,
have from time to time existed, and passed among us without
notice or opposition; but the instituting of a regular
system of instruction, to the extent and degree which exists
upon your plantation, is a thing so directly in the face of
the law, that we can no longer tolerate it; and we have
determined, unless this course is dropped, to take measures
to put the law into execution.”

“I had paid my adopted state the compliment,” said
Clayton, “to suppose such laws to be a mere relic of barbarous
ages, which the practical Christianity of our times
would treat as a dead letter. I began my arrangements in
all good faith, not dreaming that there could be found those
who would oppose a course so evidently called for by the
spirit of the Gospel, and the spirit of the age.”

“You are entirely mistaken, sir,” said Mr. Knapp, in a
tone of great decision, “if you suppose these laws are, or
can ever be, a matter of indifference to us, or can be suffered
to become a dead letter. Sir, they are founded in the
very nature of our institutions. They are indispensable to
the preservation of our property, and the safety of our families.
Once educate the negro population, and the whole
system of our domestic institutions is at an end. Our

negroes have acquired already, by living among us, a
degree of sagacity and intelligence which makes it difficult
to hold an even rein over them; and, once open the floodgates
of education, and there is no saying where they and
we might be carried. I, for my part, do not approve of
these exceptional instances Judge Oliver mentioned. Generally
speaking, those negroes whose intelligence and good
conduct would make them the natural recipients of such
favors are precisely the ones who ought not to be trusted
with them. It ruins them. Why, just look at the history
of the insurrection that very nearly cut off the whole city
of Charleston: what sort of men were those who got it
up? They were just your steady, thoughtful, well-conducted
men, — just the kind of men that people are teaching
to read, because they think they are so good it can do
no harm. Sir, my father was one of the magistrates on the
trial of those men, and I have heard him say often there
was not one man of bad character among them. They had
all been remarkable for their good character. Why, there
was that Denmark Vesey, who was the head of it: for
twenty years he served his master, and was the most faithful
creature that ever breathed; and after he got his liberty,
everybody respected him, and liked him. Why, at first, my
father said the magistrates could not be brought to arrest
him, they were so sure that he could not have been engaged
in such an affair. Now, all the leaders in that affair could
read and write. They kept their lists of names; and
nobody knows, or ever will know, how many were down
on them, for those fellows were deep as the grave, and you
could not get a word out of them. Sir, they died and
made no sign; but all this is a warning to us.”

“And do you think,” said Clayton, “that if men of that
degree of energy and intelligence are refused instruction,
they will not find means to get knowledge for themselves?
And if they do get it themselves, in spite of your precautions,
they will assuredly use it against you.

“The fact is, gentlemen, it is inevitable that a certain

degree of culture must come from their intercourse with
us, and minds of a certain class will be stimulated to desire
more; and all the barriers we put up will only serve to
inflame curiosity, and will make them feel a perfect liberty
to use the knowledge they conquer from us against us. In
my opinion, the only sure defence against insurrection is
systematic education, by which we shall acquire that influence
over their minds which our superior cultivation will
enable us to hold. Then, as fast as they become fitted to
enjoy rights, we must grant them.”

“Not we, indeed!” said Mr. Knapp, striking his cane
upon the floor. “We are not going to lay down our power
in that way. We will not allow any such beginning. We
must hold them down firmly and consistently. For my
part, I dislike even the system of oral religious instruction.
It starts their minds, and leads them to want something
more. It 's indiscreet, and I always said so. As for teaching
them out of the Bible, — why, the Bible is the most
exciting book that ever was put together! It always starts
up the mind, and it 's unsafe.”

“Don't you see,” said Clayton, “what an admission you
are making? What sort of a system must this be, that
requires such a course to sustain it?”

“I can't help that,” said Mr. Knapp. “There 's millions
and millions invested in it, and we can't afford to risk
such an amount of property for mere abstract speculation.
The system is as good as forty other systems that have prevailed,
and will prevail. We can't take the frame-work of
society to pieces. We must proceed with things as they
are. And now, Mr. Clayton, another thing I have to say to
you,” said he, looking excited, and getting up and walking
the floor. “It has been discovered that you receive incendiary
documents through the post-office; and this cannot
be permitted, sir.”

The color flushed into Clayton's face, and his eye kindled
as he braced himself in his chair. “By what right,” he

said, “does any one pry into what I receive through the
post-office? Am I not a free man?”

“No, sir, you are not,” said Mr. Knapp, — “not free to
receive that which may imperial a whole neighborhood. You
are not free to store barrels of gunpowder on your premises,
when they may blow up ours. Sir, we are obliged to hold
the mail under supervision in this state; and suspected persons
will not be allowed to receive communications without
oversight. Don't you remember that the general post-office
was broken open in Charleston, and all the abolition
documents taken out of the mail-bags and consumed, and a
general meeting of all the most respectable citizens, headed
by the clergy in their robes of office, solemnly confirmed the
deed?”

“I think, Mr. Knapp,” said Judge Oliver, interposing in
a milder tone, “that your excitement is carrying you
further than you are aware. I should rather hope that Mr.
Clayton would perceive the reasonableness of our demand,
and of himself forego the taking of these incendiary documents.”

“I take no incendiary documents,” said Clayton, warmly.
“It is true I take an anti-slavery paper, edited at Washington,
in which the subject is fairly and coolly discussed.
I hold it no more than every man's duty to see both sides
of a question.”

“Well, there, now,” said Mr. Knapp, “you see the
disadvantage of having your slaves taught to read. If
they could not read your papers, it would be no matter
what you took; but to have them get to reasoning on these
subjects, and spread their reasonings through our plantations,
— why, there 'll be the devil to pay, at once.”

“You must be sensible,” said Judge Oliver, “that there
must be some individual rights which we resign for the
public good. I have looked over the paper you speak of,
and I acknowledge it seems to me very fair; but, then, in
our peculiar and critical position, it might prove dangerous
to have such reading about my house, and I never have it.”

“In that case,” said Clayton, “I wonder you don't suppress
your own newspapers; for as long as there is a congressional
discussion, or a Fourth of July oration or senatorial
speech in them, so long they are full of incendiary
excitement. Our history is full of it, our state bills of rights
are full of it, the lives of our fathers are full of it; we must
suppress our whole literature, if we would avoid it.”

“Now, don't you see,” said Mr. Knapp, “you have
stated just so many reasons why slaves must not learn to
read?”

“To be sure I do,” said Clayton, “if they are always to
remain slaves, if we are never to have any views of emancipation
for them.”

“Well, they are to remain slaves,” said Mr. Knapp,
speaking with excitement. “Their condition is a finality;
we will not allow the subject of emancipation to be discussed,
even.”

“Then, God have mercy on you!” said Clayton, solemnly;
“for it is my firm belief that, in resisting the progress of
human freedom, you will be found fighting against God.”

“It is n't the cause of human freedom,” said Mr. Knapp,
hastily. “They are not human; they are an inferior race,
made expressly for subjection and servitude. The Bible
teaches this plainly.”

“Why don't you teach them to read it, then?” said Clayton,
coolly.

“The long and the short of the matter is, Mr. Clayton,”
said Mr. Knapp, walking nervously up and down the room,
“you 'll find this is not a matter to be trifled with. We
come, as your friends, to warn you; and, if you don't listen
to our warnings, we shall not hold ourselves responsible for
what may follow. You ought to have some consideration
for your sister, if not for yourself.”

“I confess,” said Clayton, “I had done the chivalry of
South Carolina the honor to think that a lady could have
nothing to fear.”

“It is so generally,” said Judge Oliver, “but on this subject

there is such a dreadful excitability in the public mind,
that we cannot control it. You remember, when the commissioner
was sent by the Legislature of Massachusetts
to Charleston, he came with his daughter, a very cultivated
and elegant young lady; but the mob was rising, and we
could not control it, and we had to go and beg them to
leave the city. I, for one, would n't have been at all answerable
for the consequences, if they had remained.”

“I must confess, Judge Oliver,” said Clayton, “that I
have been surprised, this morning, to hear South Carolinians
palliating two such events in your history, resulting from
mob violence, as the breaking open of the post-office, and
the insult to the representative of a sister state, who came in
the most peaceable and friendly spirit, and to womanhood in
the person of an accomplished lady. Is this hydra-headed
monster, the mob, to be our governor?”

“O, it is only upon this subject,” said all three of the
gentlemen, at once; “this subject is exceptional.”

“And do you think,” said Clayton, “that

You may depend upon it you will find that you cannot. The
mob that you smile on and encourage when it does work
that suits you, will one day prove itself your master in a
manner that you will not like.”

“Well, now, Mr. Clayton,” said Mr. Bradshaw, who had
not hitherto spoken, “you see this is a very disagreeable
subject; but the fact is, we came in a friendly way to you.
We all appreciate, personally, the merits of your character,
and the excellence of your motives; but, really sir, there is
an excitement rising, there is a state of the public mind
which is getting every day more and more inflammable. I
talked with Miss Anne on this subject, some months ago,
and expressed my feelings very fully; and now, if you will
only give us a pledge that you will pursue a different
course, we shall have something to take hold of to quiet the

popular mind. If you will just write and stop your paper for
the present, and let it be understood that your plantation
system is to be stopped, the thing will gradually cool itself
off.”

“Gentlemen,” said Clayton, “you are asking a very
serious thing from me, and one which requires reflection.
If I am violating the direct laws of the state, and these laws
are to be considered as still in vital force, there is certainly
some question with regard to my course; but still I have
responsibilities for the moral and religious improvement of
those under my care, which are equally binding. I see no
course but removal from the state.”

“Of course, we should be sorry,” said Judge Oliver,
“you should be obliged to do that; still we trust you will
see the necessity, and our motives.”

“Necessity is the tyrant's plea, I believe,” said Clayton,
smiling.

“At all events, it is a strong one,” replied Judge Oliver,
smiling also. “But I am glad we have had this conversation;
I think it will enable me to pacify the minds of some
of our hot-headed young neighbors, and prevent threatened
mischief.”

After a little general conversation, the party separated on
apparently friendly terms, and Clayton went to seek counsel
with his sister and Frank Russel.

Anne was indignant, with that straight-out and generous
indignation which belongs to women, who, generally speaking,
are ready to follow their principles to any result with
more inconsiderate fearlessness than men. She had none
of the anxieties for herself which Clayton had for her.
Having once been witness of the brutalities of a slave-mob,
Clayton could not, without a shudder, connect any such
possibilities with his sister.

“I think,” said Anne, “we had better give up this miserable
sham of a free government, of freedom of speech,
freedom of conscience, and all that, if things must go on
in this way.”

“O,” said Frank Russel, “the fact is that our republic,
in these states, is like that of Venice; it 's not a democracy,
but an oligarchy, and the mob is its standing army. We
are, all of us, under the `Council of Ten,' which has its eyes
everywhere. We are free enough as long as our actions
please them; when they don't, we shall find their noose
around our necks. It 's very edifying, certainly, to have
these gentlemen call on you to tell you that they will not be
answerable for consequences of excitement which they are
all the time stirring up; for, after all, who cares what you
do, if they don't? The large proprietors are the ones interested.
The rabble are their hands, and this warning about
popular excitement just means, `Sir, if you don't take care,
I shall let out my dogs, and then I won't be answerable for
consequences.'”

“And you call this liberty!” said Anne, indignantly.

“O, well,” said Russel, “this is a world of humbugs.
We call it liberty because it 's an agreeable name. After
all, what is liberty, that people make such a breeze about?
We are all slaves to one thing or another. Nobody is absolutely
free, except Robinson Crusoe, in the desolate island;
and he tears all his shirts to pieces and hangs them up
as signals of distress, that he may get back into slavery
again.”

“For all that,” said Anne, warming, “I know there is
such a thing as liberty. All that nobleness and enthusiasm
which has animated people in all ages for liberty cannot be
in vain. Who does not thrill at those words of the Marsellaise:

“These are certainly agreeable myths,” said Russel,
“but these things will not bear any close looking into.
Liberty has generally meant the liberty of me and my nation

and my class to do what we please; which is a very
pleasant thing, certainly, to those who are on the upper side
of the wheel, and probably involving much that 's disagreeable
to those who are under.”

“That is a heartless, unbelieving way of talking,” said
Anne, with tears in her eyes. “I know there have been
some right true, noble souls, in whom the love of liberty
has meant the love of right, and the desire that every human
brother should have what rightly belongs to him. It
is not my liberty, nor our liberty, but the principle of liberty
itself, that they strove for.”

“Such a principle, carried out logically, would make
smashing work in this world,” said Russel. “In this sense,
where is there a free government on earth? What nation
ever does or ever did respect the right of the weaker, or
ever will, till the millennium comes? — and that 's too far off
to be of much use in practical calculations; so don't let 's
break our hearts about a name. For my part, I am more
concerned about these implied threats. As I said before,
`the hand of Joab is in this thing.' Tom Gordon is visiting
in this neighborhood, and you may depend upon it that
this, in some way, comes from him. He is a perfectly reckless
fellow, and I am afraid of some act of violence. If he
should bring up a mob, whatever they do, there will be no
redress for you. These respectable gentlemen, your best
friends, will fold their hands, and say, `Ah, poor fellow! we
told him so!' while others will put their hands complacently
in their pockets, and say, `Served him right!'

“I think,” said Clayton, “there will be no immediate
violence. I understood that they pledged as much when
they departed.”

“If Tom Gordon is in the camp,” said Russel, “they may
find that they have reckoned without their host in promising
that. There are two or three young fellows in this vicinity
who, with his energy to direct them, are reckless enough
for anything; and there is always an abundance of excitable
rabble to be got for a drink of whiskey.”

The event proved that Russel was right. Anne's bedroom
was in the back part of the cottage, opposite the little
grove where stood her school-room.

She was awakened, about one o'clock, that night, by a
broad, ruddy glare of light, which caused her at first to
start from her bed, with the impression that the house was
on fire.

At the same instant she perceived that the air was full of
barbarous and dissonant sounds, such as the beating of tin
pans, the braying of horns, and shouts of savage merriment,
intermingled with slang oaths and curses.

In a moment, recovering herself, she perceived that it was
her school-house which was in a blaze, crisping and shrivelling
the foliage of the beautiful trees by which it was surrounded,
and filling the air with a lurid light.

She hastily dressed, and in a few moments Clayton and
Russel knocked at her door. Both were looking very pale.

“Don't be alarmed,” said Clayton, putting his arm around
her with that manner which shows that there is everything
to fear; “I am going out to speak to them.”

“Indeed, you are going to do no such thing,” said Frank
Russel, decidedly. “This is no time for any extra displays
of heroism. These men are insane with whiskey and excitement.
They have probably been especially inflamed against
you, and your presence would irritate them still more. Let
me go out: I understand the ignobile vulgus better than you
do; besides which, providentially, I have n't any conscience
to prevent my saying and doing what is necessary for an
emergency. You shall see me lead off this whole yelling
pack at my heels in triumph. And now, Clayton, you take
care of Anne, like a good fellow, till I come back, which
may be about four or five o'clock to-morrow morning. I
shall toll all these fellows down to Muggins', and leave them
so drunk they cannot stand for one three hours.”

So saying, Frank proceeded hastily to disguise himself in
a shaggy old great coat, and to tie around his throat a red
bandanna silk handkerchief, with a very fiery and dashing

tie, and surmounting these equipments by an old hat which
had belonged to one of the servants, he stole out of the
front door, and, passing around through the shrubbery, was
very soon lost in the throng who surrounded the burning
building. He soon satisfied himself that Tom Gordon was
not personally among them, — that they consisted entirely
of the lower class of whites.

“So far, so good,” he said to himself, and, springing on to
the stump of a tree, he commenced a speech in that peculiar
slang dialect which was vernacular with them, and of which
he perfectly well understood the use.

With his quick and ready talent for drollery, he soon had
them around him in paroxysms of laughter; and, complimenting
their bravery, flattering and cajoling their vanity, he
soon got them completely in his power, and they assented,
with a triumphant shout, to the proposition that they should
go down and celebrate their victory at Muggins' grocery, a
low haunt about a mile distant, whither, as he predicted,
they all followed him. And he was as good as his word in
not leaving them till all were so completely under the
power of liquor as to be incapable of mischief for the time
being.

About nine o'clock the next day he returned, finding
Clayton and Anne seated together at breakfast.

“Now, Clayton,” he said, seating himself, “I am going
to talk to you in good, solemn earnest, for once. The fact
is, you are checkmated. Your plans for gradual emancipation,
or reform, or anything tending in that direction, are
utterly hopeless; and, if you want to pursue them with
your own people, you must either send them to Liberia, or
to the Northern States. There was a time, fifty years ago,
when such things were contemplated with some degree of
sincerity by all the leading minds at the South. That time
is over. From the very day that they began to open new
territories to slavery, the value of this kind of property
mounted up, so as to make emancipation a moral impossibility.
It is, as they told you, a finality; and don't you see

how they make everything in the Union bend to it? Why,
these men are only about three tenths of the population of
our Southern States, and yet the other seven tenths virtually
have no existence. All they do is to vote as they
are told — as they know they must, being too ignorant to
know any better.

“The mouth of the North is stuffed with cotton, and will
be kept full as long as it suits us. Good, easy gentlemen,
they are so satisfied with their pillows, and other accommodations
inside of the car, that they don't trouble themselves
to reflect that we are the engineers, nor to ask where we
are going. And, when any one does wake up and pipe out
in melancholy inquiry, we slam the door in his face, and
tell him `Mind your own business, sir,' and he leans back
on his cotton pillow, and goes to sleep again, only whimpering
a little, that `we might be more polite.'

“They have their fanatics up there. We don't trouble ourselves
to put them down; we make them do it. They get
up mobs on our account, to hoot troublesome ministers and
editors out of their cities; and their men that they send to
Congress invariably do all our dirty work. There 's now
and then an exception, it is true; but they only prove the
rule.

“If there was any public sentiment at the North for you
reformers to fall back upon, you might, in spite of your
difficulties, do something; but there is not. They are all
implicated with us, except the class of born fanatics, like
you, who are walking in that very unfashionable narrow
way we 've heard of.”

“Well,” said Anne, “let us go out of the state, then.
I will go anywhere; but I will not stop the work that I
have begun.”