CHAPTER VII.

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When I came down from my room, I found Miss Thornton and Miss Davenport already in riding costume, Mr. Byles preparing to accompany us, and Mrs. Thornton and Mr. Hubbard settling that they would drive over in the carriage, tÊte-À-tÊte; while before the door were a number of horses of various descriptions, some bearing ladies' saddles, and some equipped for men. Behind the train was a good large, roomy vehicle, of a very comfortable but old-fashioned form, into which sundry servants of various hues were placing those baskets and packages by the agency of which, I doubted not, Mr. Thornton intended to insure a comfortable dinner wherever we might stop. Having seated the ladies, the gentlemen were soon in the saddle; and away we went at full speed, as if there had been a fox before us, across the little bridge, and up the road towards the highway. As long as we had anything like green herbs beneath our feet, this was all very well; but when we came upon the public road, the dust soon compelled us to slacken our pace and proceed more leisurely. The party fell speedily into what I suppose was its natural arrangement: Mr. Byles riding beside Miss Thornton; I accompanying her fair cousin; and Mr. Thornton himself falling behind to give some directions to his eldest boy, who accompanied us on a beautiful dark chestnut pony--which, by the way, had an awkward habit of throwing out her hoofs at anything which might come behind her, and was consequently quite as well in the rear. Miss Davenport, as we went, was as gay as a lark; and, in the spirit of light badinage with which she had begun the day, contrived to tease me very heartily all the way that we went. I found that she was exceedingly well read, especially in modern history, and she managed to twist and turn a great many of the acts and deeds of Old England in such a manner as more than once to put me on the defensive somewhat warmly; and then she would laugh till her eyes almost ran over, and declare that Englishmen never could bear to hear a word said against their country. Positively, I was not certain, in the end, whether I did not hate her mortally. On the whole, however, I was not sorry to hear what Americans really thought of many of our doings; and I doubted not in the least that Miss Davenport's views were but the reflex of those most generally entertained. In them there was much of prejudice undoubtedly; many of her facts were wrong; many of the inferences unjust; and, almost always, the motives were, I may say, ridiculously distorted. Purposes and objects which never entered into the head of any one Briton from the Land's End to John O'Groat's House, were ascribed to the whole nation as coolly and positively as if they were demonstrated certainties. Still, her free-spoken comments gave me an insight into the feelings with which a great part of the American people regard my countrymen, and which is politely concealed from us in ordinary society. The scenery through which we passed was rather flat and monotonous, and the forest in general shut out all distant prospects. Nothing of any very great interest struck me by the way, except, indeed, the profusion and beautiful variety of the wild flowers, still in bloom, and the occasional gush of some delicious odour from the woods as we rode along. Birds of gorgeous plumage, too, were flitting amongst the trees; but, oh! how I longed for the delightful spring sounds of England--the voice of the thrush, the blackbird, and the lark. I would have given all the gay feathers of the birds in sight for even one song of the robin. There was a bird, indeed, which did, now and then, utter one or two solitary notes, as if he would fain have sung if he had known how; and Miss Davenport praised his voice as if he had been a nightingale.

"You do not call that singing?" I said; and when I tried to give her some idea of the music of our woods, she declared it was all prejudice, and that I was determined not to like anything in America. I had an account to settle with her, however, and I resolved not to lose any opportunity. Shortly after, a small bird of rather graceful form flew from one branch of a tree to another, mewing like a cat as it went, and I quietly asked her if that was a singing bird also.

"Pshaw!" she cried; and, touched for once, struck her horse with the whip, and dashed on towards a gate, at which the two who had preceded us had already arrived.

"Soberly, soberly, Bessy!" ejaculated Mr. Thornton from behind. "Don't set off like a mad thing."

"As soberly as I can," replied Miss Davenport, laughing; "but this man provokes me--he is so intensely English."

"Thank God!" I ejaculated as I passed on.

"For what?" asked the gay girl, half laughing, half pouting.

"First for being intensely English," I replied; "and, secondly, for having provoked you. It was exactly what I wished; for, to say the truth, Miss Davenport, I thought it was high time I should have my turn."

"Then I shall sulk," she said. And not a word more did she speak till, passing barns and stables, and sundry other outbuildings, the uses and purposes of which I cannot pretend to describe, we arrived at the door of a large, square, red brick house, much like, in some respects, that of Mr. Thornton himself. Before the bell could be rung, a neat-looking black woman appeared, and told us that the family (that is to say, the family who had hired the plantation) were in Richmond; but upon our object being explained, she very civilly told us to come in, and that we were quite welcome to look over the house and premises as much as ever we pleased.

"I shall stay here with Hal, and wait until the carriage comes up," said Mr. Thornton; "but you can go in and look around. Show him the portraits in the dining-room, Bessy." Miss Davenport made no answer; but Louisa Thornton and her swain had already entered; and while she followed them, I followed her, almost mechanically. Mr. Byles man[oe]uvred like a general, and contrived to lead his fair companion exactly in the opposite direction to that in which we were going; but Miss Davenport, in obedience to her uncle's commands, took her way at once to the dining-room, which we entered by the third door on the left. She said nothing, but looked quite grave, while I opened the closed shutters, and let in the daylight. It seemed to me that she was carrying on her sulky humour seriously; and, returning from the window, I held out my hand to her, saying--

"Let us make peace." She started; but gave me her hand, answering,--

"You are mistaken, cousin, I think. You cannot suppose that I am so silly as to turn jest into earnest--at least I hope not. But I cannot be gay here. This place is full of memories to me. In it all the earlier part of my life was spent, under the care of that dear and wise old lady." And she pointed with her hand to one of two pictures which hung over the large mantelpiece.

"They are very happy memories, it is true," she continued; "yet, my dear cousin, it strikes me that memory has the effect of moonlight, softening the harsher things of life, and saddening the brighter." The heart of Bessy Davenport was speaking now. I had got the key, and I never lost it again.

"It is very true," I answered gravely. "My own early years were very happy ones. I love the spots where they passed; I like to dwell upon their memories, but it is with a sort of mournful pleasure. Man, with his eager aspirations for new things, never loves to lose aught of that which he has once possessed; and often, when I sit by the fireside with my sister, in the old hall, she and I fall into reveries, longing both of us, I know, to give back tangible life and human energy to those who once sat there with us, and substance and reality to the spectres of remembrance. But, indeed, I knew not that this had been your early home; otherwise I do not think I should have let you come here with us."

"Oh, yes," she answered; "I am very fond of spending long hours here. My mother died when I was four years old; my father died before her. There was some dispute about my property; my cousin Robert tried hard to cheat me out of everything; and this was judged the best home for me during my early youth. A happier home it could not have been; for dear Aunt Bab would never send me to school, but taught me almost everything herself that she could teach, and said she was determined to make an English lady of me. You know that is impossible," she added, with one of her light smiles; "the rebel blood is too strong in me for that."

"And who is that gentleman?" I asked, pointing to the other picture which hung over the mantel, and which represented a fine-looking old man in a blue uniform.

"Oh, that is Colonel Thornton," she replied. "They are both fine pictures; the one by Copley, the other by Stuart. But there is a third you should look at, by some English artist, I do not know whom." And she turned towards the opposite wall. There, to my surprise, I beheld a perfect and masterly copy of the portrait of my own father which hangs up in our hall. As I gazed at it, I just caught Miss Davenport's eyes turning from the picture to my own face; and the next moment she said, "Should I have needed anything but that picture, Sir Richard, to tell me who you really are?" I felt something rising in my eyes, as I gazed here, in a foreign land, at the features which I had so often stood to contemplate in my own home, and remembered that picture was a pledge of early affection between brother and sister which had existed unbroken to the end of life. I quietly drew Miss Davenport's arm through my own and turned away out of the room. She said nothing for some minutes, but seemed unconsciously to take her way up the stairs where we could hear the voices of Miss Thornton and Mr. Byles, apparently in very gay conversation. At the first landing she stopped, however, saying, "And so you have a sister? I am very glad of it. Having a sister humanizes a man, and gives him something to think about besides himself."

"I have, indeed, a very dear and very beautiful sister," I replied. "But do you not think, Miss Davenport, that having a wife might humanize a man as well as having a sister?"

"Ah!" she cried, looking up with one of her gay smiles again, "are you a married man, then, Sir Richard?"

"No," I answered, "I am not so happy. But pray answer my question?"

"And is your sister married?" she asked.

"No, indeed," I replied; "but she is six years younger than I am. And now answer my question, as I have answered yours."

"No, no," she responded, "not now. My answer would have to be a saucy one, and I cannot make such here."

"Well, then, perhaps, I may ask it somewhere else," I said, laughing. What force she attributed to my words I knew not, but she quietly slipped her arm out of mine, and ran up the other flight of steps. As we reached the top, we heard, through the window, at the end of the long corridor which we had now reached, the sound of carriage-wheels below, and, looking out, we saw Mr. Hubbard handing Mrs. Thornton from the carriage, while Mr. Thornton was giving various directions to the servants.

"I fear my aunt will make herself ill with this jaunt," said Miss Davenport, evidently a little desirous of changing the conversation. "She is in very delicate health. Does it not strike you, Sir Richard, that American ladies are very weakly creatures, compared with Englishwomen? I must make an exception in my own favour; for Aunt Bab used to make me walk five or six miles a day, or ride, or skip, or take one sort of violent exercise or another during half of my time. In everything else I was quite a spoiled child; but in this she was inexorable, and I am reaping the benefit of it now."

"I have, indeed, remarked," I said, "that the ladies of this country are not so strong as those of Europe; but I cannot help thinking that the climate is more enervating."

"Not a bit of it," she cried; "that is one of your prejudices again, I am sure. We get feeble and delicate because we take no exercise, and live altogether in a sort of artificial manner. It is worse in the South than in the North a great deal, because here, with the multitude of servants we have, a southern girl hardly learns the use of her feet or her hands. The only time for exercising the first is at a ball, and the second when she plays on the piano. She gets up in the morning, and sits down in an armchair, and says, 'Julia, bring me my slippers; Susannah, comb my hair;' and so the whole day goes on. Climate has nothing to do with it. It is want of free air and proper exercise; bad hours, and all that sort of thing. We are up here, uncle," she continued speaking to Mr. Thornton, who was calling to know where we were; and in a moment after, the whole party were reassembled. We then walked over the house, visited the stables and outbuildings, and made a tour through the negro cabins, which lay at a little distance behind. The condition, mode of life, and treatment of the negro population in the country, were of course subjects of great interest to me, and as these were the first rural slaves I had seen, I asked a good many questions, in which Mr. Thornton aided and joined me. All the people seemed happy and contented--at least there was nothing to show the contrary; yet, in one or two cases--amongst some of the younger men especially--I imagined I perceived a sort of reserve--a holding back of their thoughts, as if they were either unwilling or afraid to speak out boldly. I called Mr. Thornton's attention to this fact, as we turned back towards the house; and he replied,--

"It is very possible that such is the case, especially here. The family who have hired the plantation are not Virginians, as I hardly need tell you; for such a thing as a gentleman hiring another plantation in Virginia is hardly known. Mr. Stringer is a northern man, who has bought some property near, which he is getting into order, and on which he is building a house in the modern style. He has not been long enough in the South to understand our ways; and they say his negroes are treated rather hardly, as is frequently the case with northern men, when they first come here. The general prejudice is, that they make the harshest masters; but I believe the cause of their exacting too much is, that they do not understand the character of the negro, nor his capabilities; that they expect from him more than he can perform either physically or intellectually. Indeed, how can they understand all the peculiarities of these poor people as well as we can, who have been brought up amongst them--played with them in our childhood, and grown with them from youth to manhood? The best way for you to form an accurate judgment on these subjects will be, to set out in the morning early, and take a walk alone through my plantation, or any of those in the neighbourhood: talk with the people in the fields or in the cottages; tell them you are an Englishman, and want to know something about them. No man amongst us has anything to conceal, I believe, Mr. Howard; and perhaps you may satisfy yourself that a great deal of unjust prejudice has been excited in regard to the condition of the negroes."

"But still I cannot help thinking this slavery is a very great evil, Mr. Thornton," I replied.

"Perhaps so," he said, thoughtfully; "yet it is one which exists. It is not of our making; and I can see no escape from it either with benefit to the poor people themselves, safety to the state, or justice to the master. I could discuss this question a long while with you, and may do so some day. In the meantime, examine and judge for yourself; and we can then talk of it more fairly. But it is a subject, depend upon it, which has many aspects; and no man who has not examined it under all, is competent to reason upon it. Abstract propositions have very little bearing upon complicated facts." I knew there was a great deal of truth in what he said. Such an institution (if it deserves that name), when it has lasted several centuries, and, in fact, grown with the growth and strengthened with the strength of a state, must have carried its roots very deep--too deep, indeed, for any wise man to attempt to eradicate it without great precaution. The case of the serfs in Europe, in ancient times, was very different. There was no outward mark of distinction upon them: they were of the same races, the same classes of intellect, the same capabilities, the same characteristics--as their lords. It was there, class-servage; here, it is race-servage; and the distinction is a very important one. Nevertheless, I was not convinced that such a thing as slavery should exist anywhere, or in any circumstances. But to deal fairly with the question, I resolved to do what Mr. Thornton suggested: to examine accurately; and I doubted not that I should have as good an opportunity of doing so as any Englishman ever had--perhaps better. As we walked on towards the house, I perceived that the eyes of my host and Mr. Hubbard were frequently turned towards the sky, especially about the south-west, and I saw, in that direction, two or three lines of leaden-looking clouds coming up over the trees.

"It is going to rain, my dear," said Mrs. Thornton; "had we not better have the carriage up, and get home?"

"If a storm be coming, it would catch you long ere you could get there," replied her husband. "There is a drop or two already, upon my word. Well, 'let it come down,' as Banquo's murderer says. We can but dine here, while it goes on. It will be but a thunder-burst. Here, Harry, run and tell Dick and Jupiter to bring all the things out of the carriage, into the dining-room. We will take the house by storm; and, in the first place, I will go and summon good old Aunt Jenny to surrender at discretion. Doubtless, as the garrison is but small, she will make no great resistance." Thus saying, he ran into the house. All the rest followed, and we found Mr. Thornton and a stout elderly mulatto cook or housekeeper, in the dining-room, fully agreed upon terms, and, by their united strength, pulling out the dining-tables to a sufficient length to accommodate the number of our party. To my surprise, the good yellow woman, after courtesying respectfully to Mrs. Thornton, kissed Bessy Davenport warmly; and, may I confess it?--there was something in the universal love which she seemed to inspire wherever she came, which gave me a little inclination to fall in love with her too, notwithstanding the state of semi-warfare wherewith our acquaintance had commenced.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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