The Continental Monthly, Vol. III, No. V, May, 1863. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
was no more bid, and Boss Joe and Aggy were struck down at twelve hundred dollars—about two thirds their market value.
'Now, gentlemen, we will offer you the old negress, Deborah, the mother of Joe. Bring her forward!' cried the man of the hammer.
Four strong negroes lifted the chair of the aged African, and bore her to the block. When the strange vehicle reached the steps, young Preston steadied it into its appropriate position, and then took a stand beside it.
'This aged lady, gentlemen, is warranted over eighty; she may be a hundred. She can't walk, but she can pray and sing to kill. How much is bid for all this piety done up in black crape?' cried the auctioneer, smiling complacently, as if conscious of saying a witty thing.
Joe turned on him quickly. 'Sir, you are employed to sell these people, not to sport with their feelings. Let me hear no more of this.'
'No offence, Mr. Preston. Gentlemen, how much is bid for old Deborah?'
'Five dollars,' said young Preston.
The old negress, who sat nearly double, straightened up her bent form, and, looking at Joe with a sad, pleading expression, exclaimed:
'Oh, massa Joe! ole nussy'm wuth more'n dat. 'Ou woan't leff har be sole fur no sech money as dat, will 'ou, massa Joe?'
'No aunty; not if you want to bring more. I'd give your weight in gold for you;' and, turning to the auctioneer, he said: 'A hundred dollars is my bid, sir.'
'Bress 'ou, massa Joe! bress 'ou! 'Ou'm my own dear, bressed chile!' exclaimed the old negress, clutching at his hand, and, with a sudden effort, rising to her feet. She stood thus for a moment, then she staggered back, fell into her chair, uttered a low moan, and—was FREE!
A wild excitement followed, during which the body was borne off. It was a full half hour before quiet was restored and the sale resumed. Then about twenty negroes, of both sexes, were put up singly. All of them were bought by Joe, except a young woman, whose husband belonged to Gaston. The bidding on her was spirited, and she was run up to ten hundred and fifty dollars. As Gaston bid that sum, he jumped upon a bench, and called out:
'Gentlemen, I can stand this as long as you can. I mean to have this woman, anyhow.'
No one offered more, and 'the lot' was struck off to Gaston. Joe did not bid on her at all.
When the next negro ascended the stand, Joe beckoned to me, and said:
'Selly is next on the catalogue. Will you bring her here?'
As I entered the mansion, she met me. Her face was pale, and there was a nervous twitching about her mouth, but she quietly said:
'You have come for me?'
'Yes, my child. Have courage; it will soon be over.'
She laid her head upon my shoulder for a moment; then, turning her large, clear, but tearless eyes up to mine, she said:
'I trust in God!'
I took her arm in mine, and walked out to the stand. The auctioneer was waiting for her, and we ascended the block together. A slight tremor passed over her frame as she met the sea of upturned faces, all eagerly gazing at her; and, putting my arm about her, I whispered:
'Do not fear. Lean on me.'
'I do not fear,' was the low reply.
'Now, gentlemen,' cried the auctioneer, in an unfeeling, business-like way, 'I offer you the girl, Lucy Selma. She is seventeen years old; in good health; well brought up—a superior lot every way. She has recently been employed at cooking, but, as you see, is better adapted to lighter work. How much shall I have for her? Come, bid fast gentlemen; we are taking up too much time.'
Before any response could be made to this appeal, Joe stepped to the side of Selma, and, in a slow, deliberate voice, said:
'Gentlemen, allow me a few words. This young lady is my sister. I have always supposed—she has always supposed that she was the legitimate child of my father. She was not. My mother bought her when she was very young; gave her jewels—all she had—for her, and adopted her as her own child. The law does not allow a married woman to hold separate property, and Selma is therefore inventoried in my father's estate, and must be sold. Rightfully she belongs to me! She has been delicately and tenderly reared, and is totally unfitted for any of the usual work of slave women. Her value for such purposes is very little. I shall bid a thousand dollars for her, which is more than she is worth for any honest use. If any man bids more, it is HIS LIFE OR MINE before he leaves the ground!'
A breathless silence fell on the assemblage. It lasted for a few moments, when Gaston called out:
'Come, Joe, this isn't fair. You've no right to interfere with the sale. I came here prepared to go twenty-five hundred for her myself.'
In a firm but moderate tone, the young man replied:
'I intend no disrespect to you, Mr. Gaston, or to any gentleman present; but I mean what I say. I shall stand by my words!'
'Come, youngster, none uv yer brow-beatin' yere. It woan't gwo down,' cried a rough voice from among the audience. 'I've come all th' way from Orleans ter buy thet gal; an' buy har I shill!'
Quite a commotion followed this speech. It lasted some minutes, and the speaker was the object of considerable attention.
'He's some on th' trigger, ole feller,' cried one. 'He kin hit a turkey's eye at two hundred paces, he kin,' said another. 'He'll burn yer in'ards, shore,' shouted a third. 'Ye'll speak fur warm lodgin's, ef ye bid on thet gal, ye wull,' cried a fourth.
'Come, my friends, ye karn't skeer me,' coolly said the first speaker, mounting one of the rough benches. 'I've h'ard sech talk afore. It doan't turn me a hair. I come yere ter buy thet gal, an' buy har I shill, 'cept some on ye kin gwo higher'n my pile; an' my pile ar eighty-two hundred dollars!'
He was a tall, stoutly-built man, with bushy gray whiskers and a clear, resolute eye. It was Larkin!
Turning to Joe, I exclaimed:
'I understand this. Get the auctioneer to postpone the sale for half an hour for dinner. Take Selly into the house.'
'No. It might as well be over first as last. Let him bid—he's a dead man!' replied Joe coolly, but firmly.
'You're mad, boy. Would you take his life needlessly?'
The auctioneer, who overheard these remarks, then said to me:
'I will adjourn the sale, sir;' and, turning to the audience, he cried, drawing out his watch: 'Gentlemen, it is twelve o'clock. The sale is adjourned for an hour, to give you a chance for dinner.'
SHYLOCK vs. ANTONIO
OPINION OF THE VICAR
The Vicar desires briefly, modestly, and by way of suggestion, rather as Amicus Curiæ than as an advocate, to lay before his learned brethren of the law a legal point or two, for their consideration.
The case to which I refer is well known to all the members of the bar as that of Shylock—versus Antonio, reported, in full, in 2 Shakspeare 299. The decision which I am desirous of having reviewed, is that of the Chief Justice, or Ducal Magistrate, who heard that curious case, and who yielded to the extraordinary arguments of the young woman, Portia. The judgment rendered, and the argument or decision of the Lady Advocate, on that occasion, have been regarded as models of judicial acumen, have received the approbation of many worthy and enlightened students, and, when theatrically represented, have been greeted with the plaudits of nearly every theatre. It may be arrogant to impugn a judicial decision of such antiquity and acknowledged authority; but, as a member in full standing of the worshipful P. B., I have the right to be slightly arrogant; for I am well aware that this is a tribunal the circumference of whose jurisdiction is infinite, or rather is a circle whose centre is a little village on the Hudson river, where I reside.
No false modesty shall restrain me, therefore, from discussing this case upon its merits. Before entering upon it, however, I desire to call your attention to a few preliminary points.
In the first place, I ask you—who