Part 17 (1/2)
”You get this terrible habit of argument from Comyn,” she said. ”He ought to send you to boarding-school. How mean of Mr. Vance not to come!
You've been talking with that old reprobate Whipple. Why does Comyn put up with him?”
”He isn't an old reprobate,” said Virginia, warmly.
”You really ought to go to school,” said her aunt. ”Don't be eccentric.
It isn't fas.h.i.+onable. I suppose you wish Clarence to go into a factory.”
”If I were a man,” said Virginia, ”and going into a factory would teach me how to make a locomotive or a cotton press, or to build a bridge, I should go into a factory. We shall never beat the Yankees until we meet them on their own ground.”
”There is Mr. Vance now,” said Mrs. Colfax, and added fervently, ”Thank the Lord!”
CHAPTER IX. A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET
IF the truth were known where Virginia got the opinions which she expressed so freely to her aunt and cousin, it was from Colonel Carvel himself. The Colonel would rather have denounced the Dred Scott decision than admit to Judge Whipple that one of the greatest weaknesses of the South lay in her lack of mechanical and manufacturing ability. But he had confessed as much in private to Captain Elijah Brent. The Colonel would often sit for an hour or more, after supper, with his feet tucked up on the mantel and his hat on the back of his head, buried in thought.
Then he would saunter slowly down to the Planters' House bar, which served the purposes of a club in those days, in search of an argument with other prominent citizens. The Colonel had his own particular chair in his own particular corner, which was always vacated when he came in at the door. And then he always had three fingers of the best Bourbon whiskey, no more and no less, every evening.
He never met his bosom friend and pet antagonist at the Planters'
House bar. Judge Whipple, indeed, took his meals upstairs, but he never descended,--it was generally supposed because of the strong slavery atmosphere there. However, the Judge went periodically to his friend's for a quiet Sunday dinner (so called in derision by St. Louisans), on which occasions Virginia sat at the end of the table and endeavored to pour water on the flames when they flared up too fiercely.
The Sunday following her ride to Bellegarde was the Judge's Sunday, Certain tastes which she had inherited had hitherto provided her with pleasurable sensations while these battles were in progress. More than once had she scored a fair hit on the Judge for her father,--to the mutual delight of both gentlemen. But to-day she dreaded being present at the argument. Just why she dreaded it is a matter of feminine psychology best left to the reader for solution.
The argument began, as usual, with the tearing apart limb by limb of the unfortunate Franklin Pierce, by Judge Whipple.
”What a miserable exhibition in the eyes of the world,” said the Judge. ”Franklin Pierce of New Hamps.h.i.+re” (he p.r.o.nounced this name with infinite scorn) ”managed by Jefferson Davis of Mississippi!”
”And he was well managed, sir,” said the Colonel.
”What a pliant tool of your Southern slaveholders! I hear that you are to give him a plantation as a reward.”
”No such thing, sir.”
”He deserves it,” continued the Judge, with conviction. ”See the magnificent forts he permitted Davis to build up in the South, the a.r.s.enals he let him stock. The country does not realize this. But the day will, come when they will execrate Pierce before Benedict Arnold, sir. And look at the infamous Kansas-Nebraska act! That is the greatest crime, and Douglas and Pierce the greatest criminals, of the century.”
”Do have some more of that fried chicken, Judge,” said Virginia.
Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel smiled.
”You should be satisfied now,” said he. ”Another Northern man is in the White House.”
”Buchanan!” roared the Judge, with his mouth full.
”Another traitor, sir. Another traitor worse than the first. He swallows the Dred Scott decision, and smirks. What a blot on the history of this Republic! O Lord!” cried Mr. Whipple, ”what are we coming to? A Northern man, he could gag and bind Kansas and force her into slavery against the will of her citizens. He packs his Cabinet to support the ruffians you send over the borders. The very governors he s.h.i.+ps out there, his henchmen, have their stomachs turned. Look at Walker, whom they are plotting against in Was.h.i.+ngton. He can't stand the smell of this Lecompton Const.i.tution Buchanan is trying to jam down their throats.
Jefferson Davis would have troops there, to be sure that it goes through, if he had his way. Can't you see how one sin leads to another, Carvel? How slavery is rapidly demoralizing a free people?”
”It is because you won't let it alone where it belongs, sir,” retorted the Colonel. It was seldom that he showed any heat in his replies. He talked slowly, and he had a way of stretching forth his hand to prevent the more eager Judge from interrupting him.