Song of Slaves in the Desert - Alan Cheuse [96]
Of beaux and belles,
That they to him address.
They bowed, and we applauded and went in to lunch.
At table the father of the children, Rebecca’s brother Joseph, the red-haired legislator, having had just returned from the capital was dishing out a plateful of news about battles in the governing body in Columbia.
“The struggle now is between those who want to nullify and those who talk secession,” he said.
Rebecca’s father announced that he had always been in favor of nullification as long as it did not lead to secession.
“Tariffs are never good for me,” he said. “It makes all of my imported cloths cost extra. And my prices go up.”
“You are arguing a practical point,” said his son. “My colleagues in Columbia put forward nullification because they would desire to have us make our own laws and regulations, in other words, create our own union. It is the first step.”
“Ah, yes,” his father said, “because they want to preserve our peculiar institution no matter what the law of the nation.”
“Father,” Rebecca spoke up, “you call it peculiar but whom do we have cooking our lunch just this moment?”
“That’s what I mean,” her father said. “To me this is very peculiar.”
“That’s why I had my vision,” Rebecca said. “Because it is all so peculiar.”
“Your vision,” her father said. Then turning to look directly at me. “You know about her vision?
I nodded, preferring to keep my silence.
But next he said, “And what do you think of it?”
I looked down into my glass and took a breath.
“Peculiar,” I said, and we all laughed together.
“But you do think she is right?” her father said.
“I don’t know enough about the way things are down here,” I said.
“The way things are? They are what they are, sir. They are the way the Lord intended them to be. Selah, selah.”
“Father,” Rebecca said.
“Do we want to discuss this?” Jonathan said.
“All we have is what we talk about,” Rebecca’s father said.
“We have God’s laws and man’s laws,” her brother put in. “If God had solved everything, why do we need a legislature?”
“Yes, you have a point,” said our host. Turning to me, “But I am interested in our guest’s view of things.”
“His view of us?” Jonathan said. “He thinks we are queer folk. With our strange ways. He is, of course, a Jew himself. But Yankee Jews seem to be different from us.”
“And what is that difference?” said our host.
“They don’t own slaves.” He paused, licked his lips in anticipation of what he was going to say next, and then said it. “Yet.”
Everyone at table laughed at that, at me, except for Rebecca. Jonathan meanwhile refilled his wine glass, something which I had not noticed he had been doing since we sat down at table.
“You all are being horrible,” Rebecca said. “Horrible rude and horrible, just plain horrible.”
“I will take back what I said,” Jonathan spoke up. “They will never have slavery in the north. It is too cold, I hear, much too cold for an African population to survive.”
“Perhaps,” I said, “if they have a choice between slavery and warm weather and freedom and cold weather, they might still wrap themselves in warm coats and choose freedom.”
“A good point,” put in our host. “And do you think they will have a choice?”
“If your daughter’s plan, or vision, whatever you call it, works, they will.”
“It never will work,” he said.
“Father!” Rebecca was insulted.
“It won’t,” he said. “You might educate the occasional genius of a slave. But as they are like most other people, geniuses are few and far between. Most of them are condemned to a life of ordinary servitude.”
“Do you really believe that, sir?” I said.
“I do,” he said. “But what do you believe, young man? Are these black slaves educable, do you think?”
“I…I do not know enough of them to say.”
“Well, sir, you must live here a while with us and find out for yourself.”
“That is exactly what he is doing,” said my uncle. “He is making a study of it.”
“To what end?” asked our host. “Are you aiming to become a scientist and study our skulls, Jews and slaves alike?