A Romance of the Republic - Lydia Maria Francis Child
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"It takes the manhood out of him to see you weep, darling," said Mr.
Blumenthal. "Be a brave little woman, and cheerfully give your dearest
and best for the country."
She wiped her eyes, and, fervently kissing Alfred's hand, replied, "I
will. May God bless you, my dear, my only son!"
His father clasped the other hand, and said, with forced calmness:
"You are right, Alfred. God bless you! And now, dear Flora, let us
consecrate our young hero's resolution by singing the Battle Song of
Korner."
She seated herself at the piano, and Mrs. Delano joined in with her
weak but very sweet voice, while they sang, "Father! I call on thee."
But when they came to the last verse, the voices choked, and the
piano became silent. Rosen Blumen and Lila came in and found them all
weeping; and when their brother pressed them in his arms and whispered
to them the cause of all this sorrow, they cried as if their hearts
were breaking. Then their mother summoned all her resolution, and
became a comforter. While their father talked to them of the nobility
and beauty of self-sacrifice, she kissed them and soothed them with
hopeful words. Then, turning to Mrs. Delano, she tenderly caressed her
faded hair, while she said: "Dearest Mamita, I trust God will restore
to us our precious boy. I will paint his picture as St. George slaying
the dragon, and you shall hang it in your chamber, in memory of what
he said to you."
Alfred, unable to control his emotions, hid himself in the privacy
of his own chamber. He struck his hand wildly against his forehead,
exclaiming, "O my country, great is the sacrifice I make for thee!"
Then, kneeling by the bed where he had had so many peaceful slumbers,
and dreamed so many pleasant dreams, he prayed fervently that God
would give him strength according to his need.
And so he went forth from his happy home, self-consecrated to the
cause of freedom. The women now had but one absorbing interest and
occupation. All were eager for news from the army, and all were busy
working for the soldiers.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
When Mr. King returned from his mournful journey to Washington, he
said to his wife: "I saw George Falkner, and was pleased with him. His
resemblance to poor Gerald is wonderful. I could see no difference,
except a firmer expression of the mouth, which I suppose is owing to
his determined efforts to escape from slavery. Of course, he has not
Gerald's gracefulness; but his bearing seemed manly, and there was
no obvious stamp of vulgarity upon him. It struck me that his
transformation into a gentleman would be an easy process. I was glad
our interview was a hurried one, and necessarily taken up with details
about Gerald's death. It seems he carried him off in his own arms when
he was wounded, and that he did his utmost to stanch the blood. Gerald
never spoke after the bullet struck him, though he pressed his hand,
and appeared to try to say something. When he opened his vest to dress
the wound, he found this."
Rosa looked at it, groaned out, "Poor Gerald!" and covered her face.
It was the photograph of Eulalia, with the upper part shot away. Both
remained for some time with their heads bowed in silence.
After a while, Mr. King resumed: "In answer to Mr. Green's inquiries
concerning the mutilated picture, I replied that it was a likeness of
my daughter; and he answered that he had heard a marriage was thought
of between them. I was glad he happened to say that, for it will make
it seem natural to George that I should take a lively interest in him
on Gerald's account. The funeral, and Alfred's departure for the army,
have left me little time to arrange my thoughts on that subject. But I
have now formed definite plans, that I propose we should this evening
talk over at Blumenthal's."
When the sisters met, and the girls had gone to another room to talk
over their lessons, and imagine what Alfred was then doing, Mr. King
began to speak of George Falkner.
Rosa said: "My first wish is to go to New Rochelle and bring home
Henriet. She ought to be educated in a degree somewhat suitable to her
husband's prospects. I will teach her to read and write, and give her
lessons on the piano."
"I think that would prove too much for your finely attuned musical
nerves," rejoined her husband.
"Do you suppose you are going to make _all_ the sacrifices?" responded
she, smiling. "It isn't at all like you to wish to engross everything
to yourself."
"Rosa has a predilection for penance," remarked Flora; "and if she
listens daily to a beginner knocking the scales up hill and down hill,
I think it will answer instead of walking to Jerusalem with peas in
her shoes."
"Before I mention my plans, I should like to hear your view of the
subject, Blumenthal," said Mr. King.
His brother-in-law replied: "I think Rosa is right about taking charge
of Henriet and educating her. But it seems to me the worst thing you
could do for her or her husband would be to let them know that they
have a claim to riches. Sudden wealth is apt to turn the heads of much
older people than they are; and having been brought up as slaves,
their danger would be greatly increased. If Henriet could be employed
to sew for you, she might be gratified with easy work and generous
wages, while you watched over her morals, and furnished her with
opportunities to improve her mind. If George survives the war, some
employment with a comfortable salary might be provided for him, with
a promise to advance him according to his industry and general good
habits. How does that strike you, Mamita?"
"I agree perfectly with you," rejoined Mrs. Delano. "I think it would
be far more prudent to have their characters formed by habits of
exertion and self-reliance, before they are informed that they are
rich."
"It gratifies me to have my own judgment thus confirmed," said Mr.
King. "You have given the outlines of a plan I had already formed. But
this judicious process must not, of course, deprive the young man of a
single cent that is due to him. You are aware that Mr. Bell left fifty
thousand dollars to his grandson, to be paid when he was twenty-two
years of age. I have already invested that sum for George, and placed
it in the care of Mr. Percival, with directions that the interest
shall be added to it from that date. The remainder of Mr. Bell's
property, with the exception of some legacies, was unreservedly left
to his daughter. I have taken some pains to ascertain the amount, and
I shall add a codicil to my will leaving an equal sum to George. If
I survive Mrs. Fitzgerald, the interest on it will date from her
decease; and I shall take the best legal advice as to the means of
securing her property from any claims, by George or his heirs, after
they are informed of the whole story, as they will be whenever Mrs.
Fitzgerald dies."
"You are rightly named Royal King," rejoined Mr. Blumenthal, "you do
things in such princely style."
"In a style better than that of most royal kings," replied he, "for
it is simply that of an honest man. If this entanglement had never
happened, I should have done as much for Gerald; and let me do what I
will, Eulalia will have more money than is good for her. Besides,
I rather expect this arrangement will prove a benefit to myself. I
intend to employ the young man as one of my agents in Europe; and if
he shows as much enterprise and perseverance in business as he did in
escaping from slavery, he will prove an excellent partner for me when
increasing years diminish my own energies. I would gladly adopt him,
and have him live with us; but I doubt whether such a great and sudden
change of condition would prove salutary, and his having a colored
wife would put obstructions in his way entirely beyond our power to
remove. But the strongest objection to it is, that such an arrangement
would greatly annoy Mrs. Fitzgerald, whose happiness we are bound to
consult in every possible way."
"Has she been informed that the young man is found?" inquired Mrs.
Delano.
"No," replied Mr. King. "It occurred very near the time of Gerald's
death; and we deem it unkind to disturb her mind about it for some
months to come."
* * * * *
The next week, Mr. and Mrs. King started for New York, and thence
proceeded to New Rochelle. Following the directions they had received,
they hired a carriage at the steamboat-landing, to convey them to a
farm-house a few miles distant. As they approached the designated
place, they saw a slender man, in drab-colored clothes, lowering a
bucket into the well. Mr. King alighted, and inquired, "Is this Mr.
Houseman's farm, sir?"
"My name is Joseph Houseman," replied the Quaker. "I am usually called
Friend Joseph."
Mr. King returned to the carriage, and saying, "This is the place,"
he assisted his lady to alight. Returning to the farmer, he said:
"We have come to ask you about a young colored woman, named Henriet
Falkner. Her husband rendered service to a dear young friend of ours
in the army, and we would be glad to repay the obligation by kindness
to her."
"Walk in," said the Quaker. He showed them into a neat, plainly
furnished parlor. "Where art thou from?" he inquired.
"From Boston," was the reply.
"What is thy name?"
"Mr. King."
"All men are called Mister," rejoined the Quaker. "What is thy given
name?"
"My name is Alfred Royal King; and this is my wife, Rosa King."
"Hast thou brought a letter from the woman's husband?" inquired Friend
Joseph.
"No," replied Mr. King. "I saw George Falkner in Washington, a
fortnight ago, when I went to seek the body of our young friend; but I
did not then think of coming here. If you doubt me, you can write
to William Lloyd Garrison or Wendell Phillips, and inquire of them
whether Alfred R. King is capable of deceiving."
"I like thy countenance, Friend Alfred, and I think thou art honest,"
rejoined the Quaker; "but where colored people are concerned, I have
known very polite and fair-spoken men to tell falsehoods."
Mr. King smiled as he answered: "I commend your caution, Friend
Joseph. I see how it is. You suspect we may be slaveholders in
disguise. But slaveholders are just now too busy seeking to destroy
this Republic to have any time to hunt fugitives; and when they have
more leisure, my opinion is they will find that occupation gone."
"I should have more hope of that," replied the farmer, "if there was
not so much pro-slavery here at the North. And thee knows that the
generals of the United States are continually sending back fugitive
slaves to bleed under the lash of their taskmasters."
"I honor your scruples, Friend Joseph," responded Mr. King; "and that
they may be completely removed, we will wait at the Metropolitan in
New York until you have received letters from Mr. Garrison and Mr.
Phillips. And lest you should think I may have assumed the name of
another, I will give you these to enclose in your letter." He opened
his pocket-book and took out two photographs.
"I shall ask to have them sent back to me," replied the farmer; "for
I should like to keep a likeness of thee and thy Rosa. They will be
pleasant to look upon. As soon as I receive an answer, Friend Alfred,
I will call upon thee at the Metropolitan."
"We shall be pleased to see you, Friend Joseph," said Rosa, with
one of her sweetest smiles, which penetrated the Quaker's soul, as
sunshine does the receptive earth. Yet, when the carriage had rolled
away, he harnessed his sleek horses to the wagon, and conveyed Henriet
and her babe to the house of a Friend at White Plains, till he
ascertained whether these stylish-looking strangers were what they
professed to be.
A few days afterward, Friend Joseph called at the Metropolitan. When
he inquired for the wealthy Bostonian, the waiter stared at his plain
dress, and said, "Your card, sir."
"I have no card," replied the farmer. "Tell him Friend Joseph wishes
to see him."
The waiter returned, saying, "Walk this way, sir," and showed him into
the elegant reception-room.
As he sat there, another servant, passing through, looked at him, and
said, "All gentlemen take off their hats in this room, sir."
"That may be," quietly replied the Quaker; "but all _men_ do not, for
thee sees I keep mine on."
The entrance of Mr. King, and his cordial salutation, made an
impression on the waiters' minds; and when Friend Joseph departed,
they opened the door very obsequiously.
The result of the conference was that Mr. and Mrs. King returned to
Boston with Henriet and her little one.
Tulee had proved in many ways that her discretion might be trusted;
and it was deemed wisest to tell her the whole story of the babe, who
had been carried to the calaboose with her when Mr. Bruteman's agent
seized her. This confidence secured her as a firm friend and ally
of Henriet, while her devoted attachment to Mrs. King rendered her
secrecy certain. When black Chloe saw the newcomer learning to play on
the piano, she was somewhat jealous because the same privilege had not
been offered to her children. "I didn't know Missy Rosy tought thar
war sech a mighty difference 'tween black an' brown," said she. "I
don't see nothin' so drefful pooty in dat ar molasses color."
"Now ye shut up," rejoined Tulee. "Missy Rosy knows what she's 'bout.
Ye see Mr. Fitzgerald was in love with Missy Eulaly; an' Henret's
husban' took care o' him when he was dying. Mr. King is going to send
him 'cross the water on some gran' business, to pay him for 't; and
Missy Rosy wants his wife to be 'spectable out there 'mong strangers."
Henriet proved good-natured and unassuming, and, with occasional
patronage from Tulee, she was generally able to keep her little boat
in smooth water.
When she had been there a few months Mr. King enclosed to Mrs.
Fitzgerald the letters Gerald had written about George; and a few days
afterward he called to explain fully what he had done, and what he
intended to do. That lady's dislike for her rival was much diminished
since there was no Gerald to excite her jealousy of divided affection.
There was some perturbation in her manner, but she received her
visitor with great politeness; and when he had finished his statement
she said: "I have great respect for your motives and your conduct;
and I am satisfied to leave everything to your good judgment and kind
feelings. I have but one request to make. It is that this young man
may never know he is my son."
"Your wishes shall be respected," replied Mr. King. "But he so
strongly resembles Gerald, that, if you should ever visit Europe
again, you might perhaps like to see him, if you only recognized him
as a relative of your husband."
The lady's face flushed as she answered promptly: "No, sir. I shall
never recognize any person as a relative who has a colored wife. Much
as I loved Gerald, I would never have seen him again if he had formed
such an alliance; not even if his wife were the most beautiful and
accomplished creature that ever walked the earth."
"You are treading rather closely upon _me_, Mrs. Fitzgerald," rejoined
Mr. King, smiling.
The lady seemed embarrassed, and said she had forgotten Mrs. King's
origin.
"Your son's wife is not so far removed from a colored ancestry as mine
is," rejoined Mr. King; "but I think you would soon forget her origin,
also, if you were in a country where others did not think of it. I
believe our American prejudice against color is one of what Carlyle
calls 'the phantom dynasties.'"
"It may be so," she replied coldly; "but I do not wish to be convinced
of it."
And Mr. King bowed good morning.
A week or two after this interview, Mrs. Fitzgerald called upon Mrs.
King; for, after all, she felt a certain sort of attraction in the
secret history that existed between them; and she was unwilling
to have the world suppose her acquaintance had been dropped by so
distinguished a lady. By inadvertence of the servant at the door, she
was shown into the parlor while Henriet was there, with her child on
the floor, receiving directions concerning some muslin flounces she
was embroidering. Upon the entrance of a visitor, she turned to take
up her infant and depart. But Mrs. King said, "Leave little Hetty
here, Mrs. Falkner, till you bring my basket for me to select the
floss you need."
Hetty, being thus left alone, scrambled up, and toddled toward Mrs.
King, as if accustomed to an affectionate reception. The black curls
that clustered round her yellow face shook, as her uncertain steps
hastened to a place of refuge; and when she leaned against her
friend's lap, a pretty smile quivered on her coral lips, and lighted
up her large dark eyes.
Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at her with a strange mixture of feelings.
"Don't you think she's a pretty little creature?" asked Mrs. King.
"She might be pretty if the yellow could be washed off," replied Mrs.
Fitzgerald.
"Her cheeks are nearly the color of your hair," rejoined Mrs. King;
"and I always thought that beautiful."
Mrs. Fitzgerald glanced at the mirror, and sighed as she said: "Ah,
yes. My hair used to be thought very pretty when I was young; but I
can see that it begins to fade."
When Henriet returned and took the child, she looked at her very
curiously. She was thinking to herself, "What _would_ my father
say?" But she asked no questions, and made no remark.
She had joined a circle of ladies who were sewing and knitting for the
soldiers; and after some talk about the difficulty she had found in
learning to knit socks, and how fashionable it was for everybody to
knit now, she rose to take leave.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The months passed on, and brought ever-recurring demands for more
soldiers. Mr. King watched the progress of the struggle with the
deepest anxiety.
One day, when he had seen a new regiment depart for the South, he
returned home in a still more serious mood than was now habitual to
him. After supper, he opened the Evening Transcript, and read for a
while. Then turning to his wife, who sat near him knitting for the
army, he said, "Dear Rosabella, during all the happy years that I have
been your husband, you have never failed to encourage me in every good
impulse, and I trust you will strengthen me now."
With a trembling dread of what was coming, she asked, "What is it,
dear Alfred."
"Rosa, this Republic _must_ be saved," replied he, with solemn
emphasis. "It is the day-star of hope to the toiling masses of the
world, and it _must_ not go out in darkness. It is not enough for me
to help with money. I ought to go and sustain our soldiers by cheering
words and a brave example. It fills me with shame and indignation when
I think that all this peril has been brought upon us by that foul
system which came so near making a wreck of _you_, my precious one, as
it has wrecked thousands of pure and gentle souls. I foresee that this
war is destined, by mere force of circumstances, to rid the Republic
of that deadly incubus. Rosa, are you not willing to give me up for
the safety of the country, and the freedom of your mother's race?"
She tried to speak, but utterance failed her. After a struggle with
herself, she said: "Do you realize how hard is a soldier's life? You
will break down under it, dear Alfred; for you have been educated in
ease and luxury."
"My education is not finished," replied he, smiling, as he looked
round on the elegant and luxurious apartment. "What are all these
comforts and splendors compared with the rescue of my country, and the
redemption of an oppressed race? What is my life, compared with the
life of this Republic? Say, dearest, that you will give me willingly
to this righteous cause."
"Far rather would I give my own life," she said. "But I will never
seek to trammel your conscience, Alfred."
They spoke together tenderly of the past, and hopefully of the future;
and then they knelt and prayed together.
Some time was necessarily spent in making arrangements for the comfort
and safety of the family during his absence; and when those were
completed, he also went forth to rescue Liberty from the jaws of the
devouring dragon. When he bade farewell to Flora's family, he said:
"Look after my precious ones, Blumenthal; and if I never return, see
to it that Percival carries out all my plans with regard to George
Falkner."
Eight or ten weeks later, Alfred Blumenthal was lying in a hospital at
Washington, dangerously wounded and burning with fever. His father and
mother and Mrs. Delano immediately went to him; and the women remained
until the trembling balance between life and death was determined in
his favor. The soldier's life, which he at first dreaded, had become
familiar to him, and he found a terrible sort of excitement in its
chances and dangers. Mrs. Delano sighed to observe that the gentle
expression of his countenance, so like the Alfred of her memory, was
changing to a sterner manhood. It was harder than the first parting
to send him forth again into the fiery hail of battle; but they put
strong constraint upon themselves, and tried to perform bravely their
part in the great drama.
That visit to his suffering but uncomplaining son made a strong
impression on the mind of Mr. Blumenthal. He became abstracted and
restless. One evening, as he sat leaning his head on his hand, Flora
said, "What are you thinking of, Florimond?"
He answered: "I am thinking, dear, of the agony I suffered when I
hadn't money to save you from the auction-block; and I am thinking how
the same accursed system is striving to perpetuate and extend itself.
The Republic has need of all her sons to stop its ravages; and I feel
guilty in staying here, while our Alfred is so heroically offering up
his young life in the cause of freedom."
"I have dreaded this," she said. "I have seen for days that it was
coming. But, O Florimond, it is hard."
She hid her face in his bosom, and he felt her heart beat violently,
while he talked concerning the dangers and duties of the time. Mrs.
Delano bowed her head over the soldier's sock she was knitting, and
tears dropped on it while she listened to them.
The weight that lay so heavily upon their souls was suddenly lifted up
for a time by the entrance of Joe Bright. He came in with a radiant
face, and, bowing all round, said, "I've come to bid you good by; I'm
going to defend the old flag." He lifted up his voice and sang,
"'Tis the star-spangled banner, O long may it wave!" Flora went to the
piano, and accompanied him with instrument and voice. Her husband soon
struck in; and Rosen Blumen and Lila left their lessons to perform
their part in the spirit-stirring strain. When they had sung the last
line, Mr. Bright, without pausing to take breath, struck into "Scots
wha hae wi' Wallace bled," and they followed his lead. He put on all
his steam when he came to the verse,
"By our country's woes and pains,
By our sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they _shall_ be free!"
He emphasized the word _shall_, and brought his clenched hand down
upon the table so forcibly, that the shade over the gas-light shook.
In the midst of it, Mrs. Delano stole out of the room. She had a great
respect and liking for Mr. Bright, but he was sometimes rather too
demonstrative to suit her taste. He was too much carried away with
enthusiasm to notice her noiseless retreat, and he went on to the
conclusion of his song with unabated energy. All earnestness is
magnetic. Mr. and Mrs. Blumenthal, and even the children, caught his
spirit. When the song ended, Mr. Blumenthal drew a long breath, and
said: "One needs strong lungs to accompany you, Mr. Bright. You sang
that like the tramp of a regiment."
"And you blazed away like an explosion of artillery," rejoined he.
"The fact is," replied Blumenthal. "the war spirit pervades the air,
and I've caught it. I'm going to join the army."
"Are you?" exclaimed Mr. Bright, seizing his hand with so tight a grip
that it made him wince. "I hope you'll be my captain."
Mr. Blumenthal rubbed his hand, and smiled as he said, "I pity the
Rebel that you get hold of, Mr. Bright."
"Ask your pardon. Ask your pardon," rejoined he. "But speaking of the
tramp of a regiment, here it goes!" And he struck up "John Brown's
Hallelujah." They put their souls into it in such a manner, that the
spirit of the brave old martyr seemed marching all through it.
When it came to a conclusion, Mr. Bright remarked: "Only to think how
that incendiary song is sung in Boston streets, and in the parlors
too, when only little more than a year ago a great mob was yelling
after Wendell Phillips, for speaking on the anniversary of John
Brown's execution. I said then the fools would get enough of slavery
before they'd done with it; and I reckon they're beginning to find it
out, not only the rowdies, but the nabobs that set 'em on. War ain't
a blessing, but it's a mighty great teacher; that's a fact. No wonder
the slavites hated Phillips. He aims sure and hits hard. No use in
trying to pass off shams upon _him_. If you bring him anything that
ain't real mahogany, his blows'll be sure to make the veneering fly.
But I'm staying too long. I only looked in to tell you I was going."
He glanced round for Mrs. Delano, and added: "I'm afraid I sung too
loud for that quiet lady. The fact is, I'm full of fight."