He boarded the steamer at the Davis landing and floated lazily down to Baton2 Rouge3.
From Briarfield he carried an overwhelming impression of the folly4 of Slavery from its economic point of view. The thing which amazed his orderly New England mind was the confusion, the waste, the sentimental5 extravagance, the sheer idiocy6 of the slave system of labor7 as contrasted with the free labor of the North.
The one symbol before his vivid imagination was the sight of old Uncle Bob and Aunt Rhinah seated in their rocking chairs gravely listening to the patriarchal farewell of their master. The ancient seers dreamed of Nirvana. These two wonderful old Africans had surely found it in the new world. No wave of trouble could ever roll across their peaceful breasts so long as their lord and master lived. He was their king, their protector, their physician, their almoner, their friend. The burden of life was on his shoulders, not on theirs. Their working days were over. He must feed and clothe, house and care for their worthless bodies unto the end. And the number of these helpless ones were constantly increased.
He marveled at the folly that imagined such a system of labor possible in a real world where the iron laws of economic survival were allowed free play. He ceased to wonder why it still flourished in the South. The South was yet an unsettled jungle of bewildering tropical beauty. One might travel for miles and hundreds of miles without the sight of a single important town. Vast reaches of untouched forests stretched away in all directions. Apparently8 the foot of man had never pressed them. Rich plantations10 of thousands of acres were only scratched in spots to yield their marvelous harvests of cotton and cane11, of rice and corn.
The idea of defending such a territory, extending over thousands of miles, from the invading hosts of the rich and densely12 populated North was preposterous13. His heart leaped with the certainty of swift and sure triumph for the union should the question be submitted to the test of the sword.
As the boat touched her landing at Baton Rouge, Jennie waved her welcome from the shore. The graceful14 figure of her younger brother stood straight and trim by her side in his new volunteer uniform. Whatever the political leaders might think or do, these Southern people meant to fight. There was no mistaking that fact. With every letter to his Chief in Washington he had made this plain. The deeper he had penetrated15 the lower South the more overwhelming this conviction had become.
For the moment he put the thought of his tragic16 mission out of his heart. There was something wonderful in the breath of this early Southern spring. The first week in February and flowers were blooming on every lawn of every embowered cottage and every stately house! The song of birds, the hum of bees, the sweet languor17 of the perfumed air found his inmost soul. The snows lay cold and still and deathlike over the Northern world.
This was fairyland.
And the Bartons' home on the banks of the river was the last touch that completed the capture of his imagination. Through a vista18 of overhanging boughs19 he caught the flash of its white fluted20 pillars in the distance. The broad verandas21 were arched with climbing roses. In the center of the sunlit space in front a fountain played, the splash of its cooling waters keeping time to the song of mocking birds in shrubs22 and trees. In the spacious23 grounds which swept to the water's edge more than a thousand magnificent trees spread their cooling shade. The white rays of the Southern sun shot through them like silver threads and glowed here and there in the changing, shimmering24 splotches on the ground.
And everywhere the grinning faces of slowly moving negroes. The very rhythm of their lazy walk seemed a part of the landscape.
This fairy world belonged to his country. His heart went out in renewed devotion. Not one shining Southern star should ever be torn from her diadem25! He swore it.
For three days he bathed in the beauty and joy of a Southern home. He saw but little of Jennie. The boys absorbed him. They were eager for news. They plied26 him with a thousand questions. Tom was going to join the navy, Jimmie and Billy the army.
"Would the United States Army stand by the old flag?" Tom asked with painful eagerness.
Socola was non-committal.
"As a rule the sailor is loyal to the flag of his ship. It's the symbol of home, of country, of all he holds dear."
"That's so, too," Tom answered thoughtfully. "Well, we'll build a navy. We built the old one. We can build a new one!"
The last night he spent at Fairview was one never to be forgotten. It gave him another picture of the old régime. They sat on the great pillared front porch looking out on the silvery surface of the moonlit river. Jennie's grandfather, Colonel James Barton, a stately man of eighty-five, who had led a regiment27 with Jefferson Davis in the Mexican War, though at that time long past the age of military service, honored them with his presence to a late hour.
His eyes were failing but his voice was stentorian28. Its tones had been developed to even deeper power during the past ten years owing to the deafness of his wife. This beautiful old woman sat softly rocking beside the Colonel, answering in gentle monosyllables the questions he roared into her ears.
To escape the volume of the Colonel's conversation Socola asked Jennie to walk to the river's edge.
They sat down on a bench perched high on the bluff29 which rose abruptly30 from the water at the lower end of the grounds. The scene was one of memorable31 beauty.
He laughed at the folly of his schemes to learn the inner secrets of the South. These people had no secrets. They wore their hearts on their sleeves. He had only to ask a question to receive the answer direct without reserve.
"Your three younger brothers will fight for the South, of course, Miss Jennie?"
"Of course—I only wish I were a man!"
"You have an older brother in New Orleans, I believe?"
"Judge Barton, yes."
"He, too, will enter the army?"
The girl drew a deep breath and hesitated.
"He says he will not. He is bitterly opposed to my father's views."
Socola's eyes sparkled.
"He is for the union then?"
"Yes."
"He is a man of decided32 views and character I take it."
"Yes—as firm and unyielding in his position as my father on the other side."
"You will be very bitter towards him if war should come?"
"Bitter?" A little sob33 caught her voice. "He is my Big Brother. I love him. It would break my heart—that's all—but I'll love him always."
Her tones were music, her loyalty34 to her own so sweet in its simplicity35, so utterly36 charming, he opened his lips to speak the first words to test her personal attitude toward him. A flirtation37 would be delightful38 with such a girl. And Mr. Dick Welford was a fearful temptation. He put the thought out of his heart. She was too good and fine to be made a pawn39 in such a game. Beside it was utterly unnecessary.
He had gotten exactly the information about this older brother in New Orleans he desired and sat in brooding silence.
Jennie rose suddenly.
"Oh, I forgot—I must go in. My maids are waiting for me, I've an affair to settle between them before they go to bed."
Socola accompanied her to the door and turned again on the lawn to enjoy the white glory of the Southern moon. The lights were still twinkling in the long rows of negro cabins that lined the way to the overseer's house. Through the shadows of the trees he could see the dark figures in the doorways40 of their cabins silhouetted41 against the lighted candles in the background.
He strolled leisurely42 into the lower hall. The door of the library was open. He paused at the scene within. A group of four little negro girls surrounded Jennie. She was reading the Bible to them.
"Can't you say your prayers together to-night?" the young mistress asked.
The kinky heads shook emphatically.
Lucy couldn't say hers with Amy:
"'Cause she ain't got no brother and sister to pray for."
Maggie couldn't say hers with Mandy:
"'Cause she ain't got no mother and father."
So each repeated her prayer alone and stood before their little mistress who sat in judgment43 on their day's deeds.
Lucy had jabbed a carving44 knife into Amy's arm in a fit of temper. Her prayer had made no mention of this important fact. The judge gave a tender lecture on the need of repentance45. The little sullen46 black figure hung back stubbornly for a moment and walled her eyes at her enemy. A sudden burst of tears and they were in each other's arms, crying and begging forgiveness. And then they filed out, one by one.
"Good night, Miss Jennie!"
"Good night!"
"God bless you, Miss Jennie—"
"I'll never be bad no mo'!"
He had come to break the chains that cut through human flesh and he had found this—great God!
For hours he lay awake, dreaming with wide staring eyes of the long blood-stained history of human Slavery and its sharp contrast with the strange travesty47 of such an institution which the South was giving to the world.
He had barely lost consciousness when he leaped to the floor, roused by loud voices, tramping feet and the flash of weird48 lights on the lawn. Growls49 and long calls echoed from point to point on the spacious grounds, hulloes and echoing answers and the tramp of many feet.
Some horrible thing had happened—sudden death, murder or war had broken out. A voice was screaming from the balcony aloft that sounded like the trumpet50 of the arch-angel calling the end of time.
He listened.
It was old Colonel Barton yelling at the sleepy negroes. In heaven's high name what could they be doing?
Socola dressed hastily and rushed down-stairs. Jennie and the boys appeared almost at the same moment.
"What is it?" Socola asked excitedly. "War has been declared? The slaves have risen?"
Jennie laughed.
"No—no! Grandmamma smells a smell. She thinks something is burning somewhere."
"Oh—"
The whole place, house, yard, grounds, outhouses, swarmed51 with bellowing52 negroes. Those that were not bellowing were muttering in sleepy, quarrelsome protest.
And they all carried candles to look for a fire in the dark!
There were at least seventy—two-thirds of them too old or too young to be of any service, but they belonged to the house.
The old Colonel's voice could be heard a mile. In his nightgown he was roaring from the balcony, giving his orders for the busy crowd hunting for fire with their candles flickering53 in the shadows.
Old Mrs. Barton, serenely54 deaf, was of course oblivious55 of the sensation she had created. The loss of her hearing had rendered doubly acute her sense of smell. Candles had to be taken out of her room to be snuffed. Lamps were extinguished only on the portico56 or on the lawn. Violets she couldn't endure. A tea rose was never allowed in her room. Only one kind of sweet rose would she tolerate at close range.
In the mildest voice she was suggesting places to be searched.
Far out at the negro quarters the candle brigade at length gathered—the flickering lights closing in to a single point one by one.
The smell was found.
A family had been boiling soap—a slave-ridden plantation9 was a miniature world which must be practically self-supporting. There could be no economy of labor by its scientific division. Around the soap pot the negro woman had swept some woolen57 rags. They were smoldering58 there and the faint odor had been wafted59 to the great house.
Socola couldn't sleep. All night long he could hear that wild commotion—the old Colonel's voice roaring from the balcony and seventy sleepy, good-for-nothing negroes with lighted candles looking for a fire in the dark. When at last he was tired of laughing at the ridiculous picture, his foolish fancy took another turn and fixed60 itself again on old Bob and Aunt Rhinah in their rocking chairs, swathed in cochineal flannel61.
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1
inauguration
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| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
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baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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7
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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8
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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12
densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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14
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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15
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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16
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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18
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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19
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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20
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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22
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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23
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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24
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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25
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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26
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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27
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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30
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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31
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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32
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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33
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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34
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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35
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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37
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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38
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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40
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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41
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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42
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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43
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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44
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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45
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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46
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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47
travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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48
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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49
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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50
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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51
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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52
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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53
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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54
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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55
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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56
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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57
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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58
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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59
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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61
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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