Judith Carson; or, Which was the heiress?

Contents

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I. The Meeting, 1

II. The Carpenters, . i . . . . 7

Chapter I. The Meeting. •

The meetings of destiny are never anticipated as such. ^George Parram, the son of wealthy parents, had just <3ome to the Bar with every possible worldly advantage. Nature had given him a clear, active, tenacious intellect, and there was no reason, except a want of moral, or rather religious, training, so common even to those most blessed — or cursed — with ample means, why he should not have been a man of mark.

One night, at the beginning of the summer, in the

year , as he was strolling along the brilliantly lighted

streets in the upper part of the city of New York, he chanced to meet a clergyman, a former visitor at his father’s house. As they walked and talked, they came to the front of a public hall, into which George Parram proposed they should step, for a moment, to witness the closing exercises of the Public High School for girls. Thinking it would be the most agreeable subject to his young friend, the Eev. Mr. Carpenter remarked playfully, to draw him on to further talk, ^^It is natural that you should be more attracted by the pretty scholars than by any interest in the schools themselves. ”

Of course,” replied Parram. My interest is in the girls, not the schools.”

‘‘Why don’t you marry ?”

“Because girls are such simpletons. I soon loseinterest in their nonsense and pretty faces. When I can find a girl of intellect, without gush — none of your soft, amiable, and, excuse me, religious sort, I may think differently. ”

This clergyman, thus accidentally met, was one who took the world as he found it, and was not always quarrelling with it because it was not as he would have it. So he remarked not the least reproachfully, “You can easily be suited then. But somehow, I think you will find that a woman who has more head than heart, more doubt than faith, more pride than piety, is apt to drift upon very dangerous seas. ”

By this time they had reached the standing place in the vestibule of the hall, in which a vast audience had assembled to hear the compositions, the songs, the salutatory and valedictorian addresses, usual on such commencement occasions. Scores of girls of all ages, rich and poor, were arranged on terraced seats on the stage, and presented a spectacle captivating to any beholder. Nothing out of heaven is more interesting to the pure and good, than well-dressed and tastefully distributed groups of children, especially girls. To see these children was indeed a picture. They were all free from care, and happy. Their bright eyes and smiling faces told a thousand stories. The brilliant lights, the large assembly, the music, the fiowers, the exercises, and the vacation before them, filled their young hearts with joy which spoke out in every ringlet on there fair young brows, in every wave and sway of their elastic bodies, and in every motion of their pretty hands.

Our two visitors paused for a moment at the threshold, and took in the beautiful scene. Just then a graduate

The Meeting.

came forward to deliver the valedictory to the school. At first she might have been thought to be quite up to, if not a little taller than the classic standard ; but any attention to her stature was soon lost in the clear brightness of her dark eyes — something impenetrably beautiful and flashing, distant, and yet so challenging. The principal led her to the front of the platform, and introduced her — Miss Carson,’’ her subject — Progress ! ” Before she begins her address, the reader may know that Judith Carson was the daughter of a very rich, but in some respects peculiar citizen. He- had a fanatical dislike to sectarian schools, because they taught religion. His idea was, that children ought not to be influenced in religious matters ; but that they ought to be educated in the general studies of schools as far as practicable, and then left to settle their religion for themselves, when grown and able to do their own thinking. He was rather close with his money ; and, as private religious schools would have been to him an expense outside of his taxes, it may be that, unconsciously, economy was one of his reasons for being so very earnest in the cause of free schools. But now Judith, remarkable for no special manner, after recognizing her audience, partly read and partly spoke, memoriter, this speech:

^^My teachers, classmates and companions: In theretrospect of our past school days, we have stepped, in a few years, from darkness into marvelous light. When we came to our revealing tasks, fear shook our childish souls at every roll of the thunder, and dreadful demons lurked in every shadow. To our apprehensions, supernal power rode down all human strength, and every nerve was a cable, chaining us to misery. We trembled under the ignorant imaginings of earlier ages, when a god was in the wind, in the fire, and in the sea. But science met us here and lifted the veil that superstition had hung before material forms. The Priests and their craft are no more. We now stand in nature’s undefined presence, with no scales before our eyes and no fear in our souls. The crucible of science takes the place of the censor of religion, the deepest sacrament is poured in liquids from nature’s heart, and man stands proudly in knowledge where he once knelt blindly in faith.”

Just then, as Judith incautiously approached the unguarded foot-lights, the gossamer illusion which floated like a cloud of mist over an underskirt of creamy silk, in which she was dressed, caught fire, to the consternation of the vast assembly, which instinctively rose to their feet ; but George Parram, who had gradually drawn nearer the stage, and had reached the very chairs of the orchestra, sprang, at a bound, upon the stage, and smothered the flames. The audience, too breathless to applaud, resumed their seats ; Judith’s magnificent silk was only the more conspicuous for the accident ; George Parram leaped back to the floor of the hall, and the speech went on. If George Parram and J udith Carson had been in the least superstitious, they might have thought this an ominous event. Fire is not only a consuming, but a purifying baptism. Pain begins, what shall end their acquaintance ? Parram’s hand was burnt just enough to make it needful to go out, and apply some emollient. As his clerical friend saw his young friend leave the hall, he followed him. The wrapping of his hand in a wet handkerchief soon assuaged the smarting, and Parram first broke silence by saying, That girl shows in her address, so far as we heard it an unusual enlightenment of thought.”

Yes,” rej^lied the clergyman, ^^but no faith.”

“ Why should there be faith,” rejoined Parram, when there can be so much knowledge ? ”

The Meeting.

What can we know inquired the clergyman.

What can we not know ? ’’

We cannot know the cause of things,” was the reply.

Is not oxygen the cause of combustion?” remarked young Parram.

“But what,” asked the clergyman, “is oxygen?”

“Granted,” replied George Parram, “that the causa causans cannot be finally traced, yet that speech shows that prominence given to science and the cultivation of the intellect will do two things — they will dispel the former fears of ignorance at the ordinary working of natural causes, and will emancipate the imagination of coming generations from the delusions of theology and the power of the priesthood. You must excuse my plainness. I respect you personally, hut not your office. ”

The preacher was not in the least offended with the outspoken skepticism of his young friend, because he had himself once thought and felt in the same way. He simply inquired: “ Suppose the priesthood is put down, what do you set up in its place? Who were the greater friends to man, the well meaning priests of an untrue theology, or the despotic Caesars of a tyrannical state ? Remember that man has ever had a priest as a guide, or a despot or a mob, as a master — faith, tyranny, or licentiousness. The minimum of religion has ever been the maximum of despotism. If intellectualism be the light, religion is the strength of civilization. The heat of the sun moves matter, while the light only changes the position of its shadows.”

“By the way, here we are in front of Mr. Madison’s mansion, where, to-morrow night, there is to be the 2)arty of the season. Do you clergymen go to such fashionable places ? ” inquired Parram.

“ Sometimes. I expect to attend this one, unless jorovidentially prevented ”

Providence ! who believes in providence ? Excuse me again,” said Parram, ‘^but the fact is, I am so unaccustomed to talk with a preacher, that I may talk like a heathen to you, but I do not see what is the use of praying if we are to act, or to act if we are to pray. ”

His friend said: ‘^It is well to pray as if we could do nothing, and then act as if we did everything.”

^^Well, some day,” returned Parram, ‘Het us talk upon the subject of Providence, for I do not believe in it, but ”

Not now, of course,” interrupted the other. Worship has no logic to the undevout. It is only from the top of the mountain that we can look down both sides. That which is incredible at twenty-five is the well-known at fifty;” — and so, each occupied with his own thoughts, turned towards his own home. It was the last of June, and to a meditative mind the solemn heavens wore a divine splendor. The new moon had not plagiarized half her light ; the stars, singly, or clustered in special companionships, or grouped in shining synods, emphasized the contrasting darkness. Fields of illimitable space expanded over the heads of young Parram and his friend ; but how differently was each impressed by it all ! The former thought only of the drama of life below ; the latter only of the works of the Great World-Builder in the firmament above. On what lines of experience will the skeptic live? In what tranquility of hope will the believer die? Let the children of these two supplement the answer.

Chapter II. The Carpenters

The river begins in a, drop. Meredith Carpenter, father of an important personage in this history, soon after his ordination to the ministry, was called to a church in middle Georgia. His work here was useful and even ‘distinguished. His learning, eloquence and innocency of life soon won the confidence, appreciation and affection of the whole community. His marriage with Marian Crawford was what might have been expected ujdoii bringing two such cultivated, devout and sympathetic natures into acquaintance. She was remotely connected with the distinguished family of Crawfords, which even yet lives in its honorable descendants. Upon his marriage, the Rev. Mr. Carpenter acquired a large landed estate, and unfortunately a large number of slave people. We say unfortunately because he was totally unfit for the new responsibility thus thrown upon him. Like many other . Northern men who have made the unsuccessful experiment of planting in the South, he was unacquainted with the negro as a laborer, and knew not how much work was reasonably to be expected from him. He indulged when he should have been firm, and was firm where he should have indulged. In vain he sought to adapt himself to his new occupation. Though his wife did her part in looking after the clothes of the slaves, caring for the sick, the old, and the young, reading the Scriptures, and a service to them on Sundays, yet his management was neither natural nor remunerative; and it soon became

8 Judith Carson ; or, Which was the Heii'ess.

evident that he could never make of himself a successful planter. The plantation did not support itself, and after a few years the negroes were allowed to suit themselves with new masters and homes, and the land was sold under mortgage.

As a rule the negroes were faithful and of good reputation, and such had no difficulty in finding the best of purchasers. Bad people only, bond or free, are always at a discount.

When the embarrassment of Meredith Carpenter culminated, he returned to the work of the ministry, exclusively, and soon received a call to a Northern church,, which he thought best to accept.

He made the most humane disposition of the slaves possible, arranging with creditors to let them find their own homes.

He then prepared to leave a country and a people in whose welfare he felt the deejDest interest. The most painful part for Marian was the parting from the servants with whom she had been reared, and who felt themselves and the whites to be all one family. One of them.

Aunt Kizzy ’’ or ‘‘Mammy,” as Marian called her, settled her lot for herself. While the other slaves were looking out for other masters, one day Mammy came to Marian, and said, “Missus, Ise gwine wid you.”

“ But Mammy,” replied Marion, “ can you leave your children ? ”

“Ain’t you and little Massa Crawford my chilluns ? Didn’t I miss you bof ? De black chilluns kin take keer of deyselves, dey kin, and ole Kizzy is gwine wid you,, and dat’s all. You need say no mo’. Iso gwine.”

“Well, Mammy, I do not know how I should get along without you. You shall come back to see all hero whenever you like.”

The Carpenters.

‘^’Nuffsaid. Ise gwine. Tell Massa.”

Aunt Kizzy was the matron of the family. In those days, when a daughter married and went off with her husband to his home, there was usually sent with her some servant whom she preferred, usually her old nurse, who was a kind of foster-mother to her. These old domestics were truly a part of the family. They felt thoroughly identified with its fortunes, and participated in its joys and sorrows, just like one of its white members.

Aunt Kizzy instinctively clung to' ‘‘the white folks, as she called them, and expressed her whole philosophy of the relations of race in the words, “Ise gwine wid you.’’

“ Well, Mammy,” said Marian, “if you decide to go with us, you shall be free, and have the highest wages paid at the Korth.”

“ Don’t want big wages. Missus ! Big wages, big work. The poor white trash (as slaves contemptuously distinguish all poor white people) works hard and gits nuffin for it but vittals and clo’es, and not ’nuff of dem. We takes keer of dat which ’longs to us, and den you takes keer of ole Mammy, and when I dies, you’ll bury dese ole bones.”

“Don’t talk in that way ! ” replied Marian, with the tears coming up in her eyes. “You must live a long time to see how we’ll all come out again. ”

“ Dat boy, Massa Crawford, he’s my chile; he’ll bring all out, see’f he don’t. His old Mammy’ll see him a big man yit. He knows heap, he does, dat’s sartin,” and the old nurse’s features broke into a broad grin that had a heart behind it.

Just then Crawford, a young, healthy, happy boy of twelve or thirteen years, came running into the room.

10 Judith Carson ; or, Which tms the Heiress,

and catching his old Mammy round the waist, went waltzing about with her, despite the old woman’s protests and scuffles.

’Have yousef, boy ! ’have yousef ! G-im me dat switch dar ! I’ll make you ’have yousef, shore I will. He boy’s ’side hissef.”

His mother reproved him for his impetuousness, and with a smile upon his open, bright face, he said: ^^So, Mammy, you are going with us ? Ain’t I glad ! But, Mammy, those people will make you run away from us. ” Go ’way, boy ! He old boss don’t run away from de stable and de oats. Ise no fool, chile. Go ’long wid you ! Ise gwine, any way.” At this the young scamp seized the old servant, and turned her round and round, just escaping from her clutches as he bounded through the open door.

The mother saw that Crawford and his old Mammy understood each other quite well, and she paid them no further attention, but resumed the writing which Aunt Kizzy had interrupted. We must now lose sight of this boy for years to come.