Lee had promised Edmund Ruffin his answer early in the week. Ruffin hadjust ridden up the hill and dismounted.
Mrs. Marshall, the Colonel\'s sister, on a visit from Baltimore, fled athis approach.
"Excuse me, Mary," she cried to Mrs. Lee. "I just can\'t stand theseranting fire-eating politicians. They make me ill. I\'ll go to my room."She hurried up the stairway and left the frail mistress of the house tomeet her formidable guest.
Ruffin was the product of the fierce Abolition Crusade. Hot-tempered,impulsive, intemperate in his emotions and their expression, he was theperfect counterpart of the men who were working night and day in theNorth to create a condition of mob feeling out of which a civil conflictmight grow. _Uncle Tom\'s Cabin_ had set him on fire with new hatreds.
His vocabulary of profanity had been enlarged by the addition of everyname in the novel. He had been compelled to invent new expressions tofit these characters. He damned them individually and collectively. Hecursed each trait of each character, good and bad. He cursed the goodpoints with equal unction and equal emphasis. In fact the good traits inMrs. Stowe\'s people seemed to carry him to greater heights of wrath andprofanity than the bad ones. He dissected each part of each character\'sanatomy, damned each part, put the parts together and damned thecollection. And then he damned the whole story, characters, plot andscenes to the lowest pit and cursed the devil for not building a lowerone to which he might consign it. And in a final burst of passion healways ended by damning himself for his utter inability to express_anything_ which he really felt.
With all his ugly language, which he reserved for conversation with men,he was the soul of consideration for a woman. Mrs. Lee had no fear ofany rude expression from his lips. She didn\'t like him because she feltin his personality the touch of mob insanity which the Slavery questionhad kindled. She dreaded this appeal to blind instinct and belief. Witha woman\'s intuition she felt the tragic possibility of such leadershipNorth and South.
She saw his leonine head and shaggy hair silhouetted against the redglow of the west with a shiver at its symbolism, but met him with thecordial greeting which every Southern woman gave instinctively to thefriend of her husband.
"Come in, Mr. Ruffin," she welcomed.
He bowed over her hand and spoke in the soft drawl of the Southernplanter.
"Thank you, Madame. I\'m greatly honored in having you greet me at thedoor.""Colonel Lee is expecting you."The planter drew himself up with a touch of pride and importance.
"Yes\'m. I sent him word I would be here at three. I was detained inWashington. But I succeeded in convincing the editor of _The DailyGlobe_ that my mission was one of grave importance. I not only desire towish Colonel Lee God-speed on his journey to West Point and congratulatehim on the honor conferred on Virginia by his appointment to the commandof our Cadets--but--"He paused, smiled and glanced toward the portico, as if he were holdingback an important secret.
Mrs. Lee hastened to put him at his ease.
"You can trust my discretion in any little surprise you may have for theColonel."Ruffin bowed.
"I\'m sure I can, Madame. I\'m sure I can."He dropped his voice.
"You know perhaps that I sent him a few days ago a scurrilous attack onthe South by a Yankee woman--a new novel?""He received it.""Has he read it?""Carefully. He has read it twice.""Good!"The planter breathed deeply, squared his shoulders and paced the floorwith a single quick turn. He stopped before Mrs. Lee and spoke in sharpemphasis.
"I\'m going to spring a little surprise on the public, Madame! Asensation that will startle the country, and God knows we need a littleshaking just now--"He paused and whispered.
"I\'m so sure of what the Colonel will say that I\'ve brought a reporterfrom the Washington _Daily Globe_ with me--"Mrs. Lee lifted her hand in dismay.
"He is here?""He is seated on the lawn just outside, Madame," Ruffin hastened toreassure her. "I thought at the last moment I\'d better have him waituntil I received Colonel Lee\'s consent to the interview.""I\'m glad you did.""Oh, it will be all right, I assure you!""He might not wish to see a reporter--""So I told the young man.""I\'m afraid--""I\'ll pave the way, Madame. I\'ll pave the way. Colonel Lee and I arelife-long friends. Will you kindly announce me?""The Colonel has just ridden up to the stables to give some orders abouthis horses. He\'ll be here in a moment."Lee stepped briskly into the room and extended his hand.
"It\'s you, Ruffin. My apologies. I was called out to see a neighbor. Ishould have been here to receive you.""No apologies, Colonel, Mrs. Lee has been most gracious."The mistress of the house smiled.
"Make yourself at home, Mr. Ruffin. I shall hope to see you at dinner."Ruffin stood respectfully until Mrs. Lee had disappeared.
"Pray be seated," Lee invited.
Ruffin seated himself on the couch and watched his host keenly.
Lee took a cigar from the mantel and offered it.
"A cigar, Ruffin?""Thanks.""Now make yourself entirely at home, my good friend."The planter lighted the cigar, blew a long cloud of smoke and settled inhis seat.
"I\'m glad to learn from Mrs. Lee that you have read the book I sentyou--the Abolitionist firebrand.""Yes."Lee quietly walked to the mantel and got the volume.
"I have it here."He turned the leaves thoughtfully.
Ruffin laughed.
"And, what do you think of it?"The Colonel was silent a moment.
"Well, for those who like that kind of book--it\'s the kind of book theywill like.""Exactly!" Ruffin cried, slapping his knee with a blow that bruised it.
"And you\'re the man in all the South to tell the fool who likes thatsort of book just how big a fool he is!"Lee opened the volume again and turned the pages slowly.
"Ruffin, I don\'t read many novels--"He paused as if in deep study.
"But this one I have read twice.""I\'m glad you did, sir," the planter snapped.
"And I must confess it stunned me.""Stunned you?""Yes.""How?""When I finished reading it, I felt like the overgrown boy who stubbedhis toe. It hurt too bad to laugh. And I\'m too big to cry.""You amaze me, sir.""That\'s the way I feel, my friend."He paused, walked to the window, and gazed out at the first lights thatbegan to flicker in the windows of the Capitol across the river.
"That book," he went on evenly, "is an appeal to the heart of the worldagainst Slavery. It is purely an appeal to sentiment, to the emotions,to passion, if you will--the passions of the mob and the men who leadmobs. And it\'s terrible. As terrible as an army with banners. I heardthe throb of drums through its pages. It will work the South into afrenzy. It will make millions of Abolitionists in the North who couldnot be reached by the coarser methods of abuse. It will prepare the soilfor a revolution. If the right man appears at the right moment with alighted torch--""That\'s just why, sir, as the foremost citizen of Virginia, you mustanswer this slander. I have brought a reporter from the _Globe_ with mefor that purpose. Shall I call him,""A reporter from a daily paper with a circulation of fifteen thousand?""Your word, Colonel Lee, will be heard at this moment to the ends of theearth, sir!""In a newspaper interview?""Yes, sir.""Nonsense.""It\'s your character that will count.""Such an answer would be a straw pitched against a hurricane. I am toldthat this book has already reached a circulation of half a millioncopies and it has only begun. That means already three million readers.
To answer this book my pen should be better trained than my sword--""It is, sir, if you\'ll only use it.""The South has only trained swords. And not so many of them as we think.
We have no writers. We have no literature. We have no champions in theforum of the world\'s thought. We are being arraigned at the judgment barof mankind and we are dumb. It\'s appalling.""That\'s why you must speak for us. Speak in our defense. Speak with atongue of flame--""I am not trained for speech, Ruffin. And the pen is mightier than thesword. I\'ve never realized it before. The South will soon have thecivilized world arraigned against her. The North with a thousand pens isstirring the faiths, the prejudices and the sentiments of the millions.
This appeal is made in the face of History, Reason and Law. But itsforce will be as the gravitation of the earth, beyond the power ofresistance, unless we can check it in time.""When it comes to resistance," Ruffin snapped, "that\'s another question.
The Yankees are a race of damned cowards and poltroons, sir. They won\'tfight."Lee shook his head gravely.
"I\'ve been in the service more than a quarter of a century, my friend.
I\'ve seen a lot of Yankees under fire. I\'ve seen a lot of them die. AndI know better. Your idea of a Yankee is about as correct as the Northernnotion of Southern fighters. A notion they\'re beginning to exploit incartoons which show an effeminate lady killer with an umbrella stuck inthe end of his musket and a negro mixing mint juleps for him.""We\'ve got to denounce those slanders. I\'m a man of cool judgment and Inever lose my temper--"He leaped to his feet purple with rage.
"But, by God, sir, we can\'t sit quietly under the assault of thesenarrow-minded bigots. You must give the lie to this infamous book!""How can I, my friend?""Doesn\'t she make heroes of law breakers?""Surely.""Is there no reverence for law left in this country?""In Courts of Justice, yes. But not in the courts of passion, prejudice,beliefs, sentiment. The writers of sentiment sing the praises of lawbreakers--""But there can be no question of the right or wrong of this book. It isan infamous slander. I deny and impeach it!""I\'m afraid that\'s all we can do, Ruffin--deny and impeach it. When wecome down to brass tacks we can\'t answer it. From their standpoint theNorth is right. From our standpoint we are right, because our rights areclear under the Constitution. Slavery is not a Southern institution; itis a national inheritance. It is a national calamity. It was writteninto the Constitution by all the States, North and South. And if theNorth is ignorant of our rights under the laws of our fathers, we havefailed to enlighten them--""We won\'t be dictated to, sir, by a lot of fanatics and hypocrites.""Exactly, we stand on our dignity. We deny and we are ready to fight.
But we will not argue. As an abstract proposition in ethics oreconomics, Slavery does not admit of argument. It is a curse. It\'s onus and we can\'t throw it off at once. My quarrel with the North isthat they do not give us their sympathy and their help in our dilemma.
Instead they rave and denounce and insult us. They are even moreresponsible than we for the existence of Slavery, since their ships, notours, brought the negro to our shores. Slavery is an outgrown economicfolly, a bar to progress, a political and social curse to the whiterace. It must die of its own weakness, South, as it died of its ownweakness, North. It is now in the process of dying. The South has freedover three hundred thousand slaves by the voluntary act of the master.
If these appeals of the mob leader to the spirit of the mob can bestopped, a solution will be found.""It will never be found in the ravings of Abolitionists.""Nor in the hot tempers of our Southern partisans, Ruffin. Look inthe mirror, my good friend. Chattel Slavery is doomed because of thesuperior efficiency of the wage system. Morals have nothing to do withit. The Captain of Industry abolished Chattel Slavery in the North, notthe preacher or the agitator. He established the wage system in itsplace because it is a mightier weapon in his hand. It is subject to butone law. The iron law of supply and demand. Labor is a commodity to bebought and sold to the highest bidder. And the highest bidder is atliberty to bid lower than the price of bread, clothes, fuel and shelter,if he chooses. This system is now moving Southward like a glacier fromthe frozen heart of the Northern mountains, eating all in its path. Itis creeping over Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri. It will slowly engulfVirginia, North Carolina and Tennessee and the end is sure. Itspropelling force is not moral. It is soulless. It is purely economic.
The wage earner, driven by hunger and cold, by the fear of the loss oflife itself--is more efficient in his toil than the care-free negroslave of the South, who is assured of bread, of clothes, of fuel andshelter, with or without work. Slavery does not admit of argument, myfriend. To argue about it is to destroy it.""I disagree with you, sir!" Ruffin thundered.
"I know you do. But you can\'t answer this book.""It can be answered, sir."Lee paced the floor, his arms folded behind his back, paused and watchedRuffin\'s flushed face. He shook his head again.
"The book is unanswerable, because it is an appeal to emotion based on astudy of Slavery in the abstract. If no allowance be made for the tenderand humane character of the Southern people or the modification ofstatutory law by the growth of public sentiment, its imaginary scenesare within the bounds of the probable. The story is crude, but it istold with singular power without a trace of bitterness. The blindferocity of Garrison, who sees in every slaveholder a fiend, nowhereappears in its pages. On the other hand, Mrs. Stowe has painted oneslaveholder as gentle and generous. Simon Legree, her villain, is aYankee who has moved South and taken advantage of the power of a masterto work evil. Such men have come South. Such things might be done. Itis precisely this possibility that makes Slavery indefensible. You knowthis. And I know it.""You astound me,............