USA > Pennsylvania > Lehigh County > Bethlehem > Bethlehem and Bethlehem school (history of Moravian Seminary and College for Women (Bethlehem, Pa.)) > Part 9
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
As she encountered the gaze of the gentleman, she became violently agitated. There stood the very likeness of her deceased father. She could not be mistaken, for every lineament of his fea- tures were stamped upon the most enduring tablet of her memory. Tears gathered into her eyes, while her whole frame trembled with excessive emotion. The lady perceiving this, said something to the gentleman ; then motioned him to leave the room ; whereupon they both quietly withdrew.
They were scarcely gone, when Maria Beaumont overcome by her emotions, sank upon the floor in a state of insensibility. It so happened, that in the
150
AGITATION.
room where this occurred, at the time quite a num- ber of persons were assembled; consisting of a class of pupils with at least one of their teachers. As it was in the afternoon, in one of the usual hours de- voted to sewing, it is probable that they were all thus engaged ;- or in knitting. Be that as it may, among this gathered number the event produced considerable excitement and alarm ; for they really did not know what was the matter, and some were under the apprehension that she had died.
But, in a short space she revived ; then she im- mediately recollected the cause of her sudden faint- ness ; and at the same moment, quick as the light- ning's flash, she remembered to whom alone among the living, probably belonged this exact counterpart in feature of her dead parent. And as faithful memory travelled through the dark vista of many years, she became more and more certain, that the gentleman must be no other than a younger brother of her dead father. But of the lady, she had no knowledge. She surmised, however, that she was the wife of the gentleman ; and if so, and her other impression was correct, she ought at least to regard her with respect ; but strange to say, although she had given her but a passing glance, she felt peeu- liarly unpleasant towards her. The query occurred to her, what did these people come here for? Next the thought flitted across her mind, that, notwith- standing the promises made by her grandmother to the contrary, perhaps her father's brother's busi-
151
ยท THE FATHER'S BROTHER.
ness at the Settlement might be to claim her, in order to reap pecuniary benefit from her musical talents. This fancy agonized the poor girl, and had she continued any length of time to indulge it, there is no knowing what would have been the con- sequences to herself.
But fortunately for Maria, directly at this junc- ture, the Inspector of the School came into the room where she was to summon her into the pres- ence of these people. The venerable man immedi- ately perceived her anxious countenance, her visi- ble agitation, and smiling, bade her to calm herself, to be of good cheer, and fear not, for he believed they meant to be very kind to her. Thus assured, she went forth with him to be presented to her dreaded visitors. The Inspector, after introducing her, directly left the apartment. Maria hereupon, sank trembling into a chair.
The gentleman then advanced towards her and said : " I suppose you do not remember me, Maria ?"
She looked at him timidly, but did not reply.
"Do not be so agitated," continued he, "I am your sincere friend, and you have nothing to fear from me; but tell me, have you any recollection of me ? "
"Oh yes!" she answered, "I am sure I know. You are my father's brother, for you are exactly like him ! "
" But not your uncle," he quickly replied.
Maria here burst into tears.
152 -
THE UNCLE'S WARD.
"I do not wish to distress you, but I suppose you are acquainted with the history of your pa- rentage ?"
The poor girl continued sobbing, yet soon re- plied : " Oh yes, indeed I am, and much grief of heart has it cost me; and if a white woman had been my mother, you would be my uncle; but as it is, being that I am only the child of a negro slave, I can be nothing of kin to you."
"True, true," said the gentleman, " you under- stand your position exactly, I perceive ; but this lady, my wife, you have never before seen, al- though she has been for some years very intimately connected with your father's family. She was first the ward of our uncle, then presently married your father."
The lady hereupon smiled, and looked kindly upon Maria; while the poor girl shuddered as she saw the bride who had supplanted her unfortunate mother, and was the innocent means of fastening anew the fetters of bondage upon her, as well as upon all her brothers and her only sister. She thought of all this, and no marvel that she shrunk from her, groancd, and wept bitterly.
"Do not cry so," said the lady, in a very com- passionate tone, "I am sorry that my presence so greatly distresses you."
But Maria continued to weep on for a space. the couple in the meanwhile talking apart, and sometimes endeavoring to soothe her. Presently
153
POOR BETSEY.
she became somewhat more calm; then the gentle- man informed Maria that her father had died nearly three years before; that his marriage was childless, and about a year ago, he had married his widow. "We started almost directly afterwards for Europe," he continued, "spent some time with our friends there, then came to the States, where we have passed several months, and are soon now to journey homeward, but were induced from what we heard of you to come here and see you, to find out your real situation, thinking, perhaps we might be of some service to you."
"I thank you both very much," said Maria, "but first please be so very kind as to tell me what has become of my poor sister Betsey ?"
The pair looked at each other for a moment, somewhat embarrassed how to reply; then the gentleman said :
" I cannot satisfy you on that head ; her present situation had better remain unknown to you, nor can I inform you of aught concerning your brothers, except of the one called after my brother; he is dead, as is also your mother."
"I have heard all about her-but Betsey, my poor sister Betsey ? "
"Her sad history is wisely concealed from you, believe me," said the lady, " but be thankful for your superior destiny."
" It was with pleasure," interrupted the gentle- man, " that we hear you so highly spoken of; and
154
A PROPOSED GIFT.
so much praise bestowed upon your conduct gene- rally ; also that you are doing so well in a pecuni- ary point of view. But you do not appear strong nor very healthy. You must not exert yourself too much, nor suffer yourself to ponder over misery you can neither prevent nor terminate. I said one object in our coming here, was to show you kind- ness. Now tell me what can we do for you? wherein can we best serve you."
Maria could not answer. In truth, she did not know what to ask; how should she? Although she had several wants, and one in particular she craved -- but it was an expensive one, hence she dared not to name it.
"You seem to be at a loss for an answer to this question, Maria," said the gentleman ; "perhaps after you have played and sung for us, you can better decide," opening the piano as he spoke.
Maria seated herself at the instrument, and exe- cuted a remarkably difficult composition in a truly admirable manner. She then sung one of her best performances, and in strains of such witching mel- ody, that her hearers became spell-bound and per- fectly fascinated. When she had finished, another, then another was demanded; each seemed more touching than the preceding.
"What a pity ! and with such a voice !" broke upon the ear of the sensitive girl; and a pang shot through her heart, for she could guess, why, and wherefore, the meaning of this observation.
155
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS.
" You play and sing divinely, Maria," remark- ed the lady ; " and what a valuable gift this splen- did talent is."
"It is really so," added the gentleman; "and now, Maria, if you are still at a loss what to ask for, I will decide for you. We wish to make you a present which will be really useful to you, and it has occurred to me while you were playing, that a piano would be as acceptable a one as we could bestow."
" A piano !" Maria's eyes brightening through her tears. " Oh, indeed, you could not give me any thing else I would like half as well, except-" here she stopped and burst into tears. Then by a strong effort she succeeded in mastering her emo- tion, and added, " and my father's daughter thanks you as she alone can."
The gentleman and lady were both somewhat moved; the former then said :
" Besides this, Maria, I mean to leave with you, an order on my agent in Philadelphia, for one hundred dollars ; but to be used only in case of your becoming disabled by sickness, from attend- ing to your business, or in any other extremity. This money, understand, at all events, is yours ; and as long as you do not want it, will accumulate at interest for your benefit.
"Slavery money, doubtless," thought Maria. The very idea painfully agitated her, while she in- wardly resolved never to make use of a cent of it,
156
THE PIANO.
even were she reduced to the necessity of living upon bread and water. This immediately became her settled determination, and it caused her to be painfully embarrassed in her reply; but she mur- mured her grateful acknowledgments; soon after which her visitors took their departure, and a short period subsequent to this, the piano, together with the promissory note, came safely to hand. The former was a plain-looking instrument, but well made, and of excellent tone.
She now embraced every opportunity of using it, with manifest advantage to herself, and the de- light of those who heard her. She continued the presiding genius of the musical choir at all the con- certs and festive celebrations of Bethlehem, for which occasions she composed some beautiful vocal and instrumental performances.
In addition to these duties, she employed every available moment during the day, in giving lessons, from which, though she received never more than three dollars a quarter for each pupil, she nevertheless derived quite a sufficient income for her support.
And thus she lived on for half a dozen years or more, nothing meanwhile occurring in her history to be recorded here, save that once during that in- terval, if I recollect aright, she was proposed to enter the missionary field either to the West Indies. or at one of the South American stations, the Mora- vians naturally supposing, that, with her abilities, pious and humble as she was, she might be of
157
A NEW SITUATION.
sential service to her colored brethren and sisters in that region. But to Maria Beaumont, to whom the very sight of a black person was an object of ex- treme painfulness, such a proposition caused intense agony of mind, and she shrunk from it in a manner which caused it not only to be immediately with- drawn, but prevented any repetition of the offer.
The next situation proffered her, though attended with some hazard to herself, yet being quite con- genial to her feelings, she willingly accepted. This was to become one of the resident teachers at Beth- lehem School. Maria was well educated, and prob- ably ere this would have been appointed to occupy this position, had she not possessed the peculiar taint of her African origin, which it was feared might be- tray itself to her disadvantage, and subject her feel- ings to some painful ordeal. But from being them- selves accustomed to it, I suppose, the Society im- . agined that this infirmity was now not as percepti- ble as formerly, and the circumstances of her birth being unknown in the school, they hoped that it would altogether escape observation. And so in- deed, I believe, proved to be the case as far as dis- covering the cause for a considerable number of years.
In the meanwhile, Maria Beaumont had risen in every sense of the word, to an equality with her associate teachers, and by all she was treated with the considerate kindness and respect which she really merited ; and when I entered the school, she
158
THE LITTLE WEST INDIAN.
. was still the prominent leader of music at the church, and the principal instructress of it in the Institution.
. My notice was first attracted to her at the fu- neral services of one of my schoolmates, a little West India orphan girl of six years of age, who, directly after her coming, had commenced to droop. In truth, she was too delicate an exotic to bear transplanting to our northern clime just as the wintry weather was beginning to set in. She came in October, and the first frost of autumn blighted the fair flower, and thus scarcely a month after her arrival, she had entirely faded, and lay withered before us. She was a very sweet and engaging child, and Sister Maria (as Maria Beaumont was now called) had immediately become very much interested in her. She fondly loved this little being, perhaps with greater ferver than she had ever felt towards any of the pupils. And full well do I recollect with what touching pathos she pour- ed out in plaintive melody her grief upon the occa- sion. She sang a solo-a requiem to the departed -- so powerfully effective, that her hearers were spell-bound, and many of them much overcome. I remember that it moved me to tears, and although since I have listened to many a strain of witching melody from some of the most famed of earth's minstrels, not one of them has so impressed me as the funeral hymn breathed out by this humble Creole child of song. She was at this period about
159
MARY YOUNG.
forty years of age, in the very zenith of her fame ; in good health, and apparently destined to charm the little world around her for many a coming year with the powers of her wondrous gift. Yet, even then, the arrow was sharpened which was to pierce her heart, and the destroying angel stood ready to execute his commission. And she was to fall, too, a victim to herself; self-sacrificed at the shrine of feeling, her talent prompted the deed, though the weapon used was by a pupil. And thus I preface this sad catastrophe.
At this time, quite a number of young ladies were at the school from the Southern States. Among these, was one of about sixteen ; proud, haughty, jealous, vindictive, and very impulsive withal, who, I shall call by the name of Mary Young. She belonged to the class under the espe- cial charge of Sister Maria, and lived in the room with her. She came from Maryland, and was per- fectly acquainted with all the distinguishing char- acteristics belonging to the colored people, and soon discovered that her teacher had similar, and on scanning her features narrowly, was convinced that she belonged to the same race; whereupon she became very angry, deeming it, I suppose, an insult to be subject to her authority.
In those days, it was customary at Bethlehem School, to have musical soirees, at stated times dur- ing the winter months, when the best performers of the respective teachers, exhibited their skill and
160
THE MUSICAL SOIREE.
proficiency in this delightful accomplishment, and they played and sung to a gathered auditory as- sembled for the purpose. The period had now arrived when the first of these entertainments for the season was to be given. The time fixed being, if my memory is correct upon the subject, about a week or two subsequent to the death of the little West Indian.
These exhibitions usually produced considerable excitement in the school, and this one more partie- ularly, as it was the commencement of the series. It so happened that just then there were some very excellent performers in the Institution, and these were under the instruction of several different teachers, each of whom, of course, was most inter- ested in those pupils under her especial supervision. All were desirous that theirs should excel, or at least, do as well in comparison as the others; and much pains had been bestowed to accomplish this result, yet all expected to yield the palm to one of Sister Maria's pupils, who was no other than Mary Young. In truth, she was an excellent performer. My impression is that she excelled all her com- panions, and her faithful teacher had placed her in this enviable position. She caused her to make very rapid improvement, and Sister Maria, greatly gratified and proud of her attainments, became the more desirous to display them to the greatest pos- sible advantage to others. For this purpose, she gave her a difficult, but very brilliant piece, which
161
THE PRIMA DONNA.
she taught her to execute admirably, and had already received many flattering encomiums concerning it from the other teachers, as also in reference to another shorter composition. In fact, Mary Young was considered the prima donna of the evening, and the whole expected to be altogether a superior affair of the kind.
The evening came, but the weather proved rather unpropitious ; yet the company was consid- erable. Indeed, with the scholars and visitors, the chapel contained more than its usual complement of persons. And quite an array of young faces ap- peared in that congregated assembly, all beaming in smiles and joyous expectation, save one-and she-but I must not anticipate.
Sister Maria, of course, expected to be the pre- siding genius of that promised entertainment. She was in her element, and seemed perfectly absorbed in the duties before her. There she sat, clad in her accustomed neat and simple style, the observed of all, whose attention became. more particularly at- tracted towards her, because it had been whispered that she intended to contribute her part to the pleasures of the evening. She looked remarkably happy, and flushed with the excitement of her feel- ings.
And as she took her place by the piano, never, I ween, in her whole life, had she felt more pleased and satisfied with herself ; more deeply under the influence of her own enchanting talents; more
162
THE DEMON.
surely realizing her own wonderful powers. This was the impression of the general mind of the com- pany present ; and I remember, though then but a little girl, how I myself was struck by the sudden kindling up of her eyes ; indeed, the whole expres- sion of her features as she yielded her nature to the spells it had itself cast around her, and became in- spired with the pure seraphic spirit of her glorious, her divine art.
The exercises commenced. Next her sweet voice broke forth upon the eagerly listening ear. She sung one of the most charming compositions of that day, quite new to many of her auditors; a per- fectly exquisite gem of song; and she warbled it forth, if possible, with more than her accustomed richness of melody ; with all the superior ability her minstrelsy possessed. Presently she ceased. amid the breathless stillness of the enraptured as- sembly.
And surely had there been any malevolent feelings in the heart of any of that gathered throne. it ought, methinks, to have been subdued, even as the evil spirit in Saul was, by the potent spell of the harp of David. But, strange to say, such was not the effect now with regard to one individual present. On the contrary, it would appear, a dark demon from the nether world, not relishing notes which savored so much of the heaven he had lost, made it the fitting opportunity of accomplishing bis will. Unfortunately, he too readily found a
2
163
THE PERFORMANCE.
willing agent to execute his diabolical design. And seeing the destroying angel near at hand to bear away that charming songstress, he took the deadly weapon, pointed it with his own fatal venom, and then-but I am anticipating.
To return to my sad story. As soon as Sister Maria had finished her song, first one pupil, then another, took their place at the instrument, and ac- quitted themselves very creditably to both teacher and performer. Presently afterwards, the turn of' Mary Young came, when she was to perform the crowning piece of all. Unfortunately, by this time the chapel had become excessively warin, which made the taint of poor Sister Maria's African origin the more perceptible, especially to the sensitive olfactory nerves of the young Southerner.
" The piece of music we are about to hear, my friends," remarked the Inspector of the School, " is a very fine composition, and, though difficult, I think will be well executed by the pupil who is to perform it, as she not only possesses much talent herself, but added thereto, has had the greatest pos- sible pains bestowed upon her by her faithful and excellent instructress, Sister Maria Beaumont, long favorably known to you all. Miss Mary Young, you will please now to come forward to the piano."
She obeyed not the summons, but looked very much excited.
"Do not be agitated, my dear," continued the Inspector, Brother Steinhaur, in an encouraging
164
THE FOUL FIEND WORKING.
tone ; "nor lose confidence in yourself, but do your best, and I doubt not that the result will justify our warmest commendations."
Still, she hesitated a moment longer ; then rose with a flushed face, a haughty manner, and proudly took her seat at the instrument. She immediately moved off as far as possible from Sister Maria, who, observing that she was not properly seated, gently mentioned the circumstance to her, at the same time, assisting her to rectify the error. In a mo- ment more, she had commenced ; but such playing ; no time, no harmony whatever, but instead, nothing but mistakes of every kind; and she, deadly pale and flushed by turns.
"What is the matter, my dear Mary ? " tenderly inquired Sister Maria. "I am afraid that you are ill."
Upon this Mary suddenly stopped, again chang- ed her position as far off as she possibly could from her astonished instructress. She now trembled cx cessively, while her face betrayed a particularly hateful and indescribable expression, arising from a settled malignant purpose. As no one present could look down into the caverns of her heart, and see the foul fiend who was working with the under- current of her feelings, they could not understand the meaning of her behavior, nor the purport of her strange conduct ; yet all who were acquainted with her natural disposition were inclined to judge her unfavorably. All did, but her good, kind, un-
165
THE UNSUSPECTING TEACHER.
suspecting teacher; who, although more mystified than the rest, was full of excuses and sympathy for her. She made every apology in her behalf, at- tributing her failure either to sudden timidity, arising perhaps from want of confidence in her- self-or it may be a strange lapse of memory-or that she really was not well.
"Some such cause must certainly be the reason, and whatever it is," continued the excellent lady, "I deeply regret it, not only from the disappoint- ment it will occasion to our assembled friends, but more especially on account of the great mortifica- tion it will doubtless produce to my dear pupil."
While Sister Maria had been thus speaking in behalf of Mary Young, the latter continued to tremble. She now became deadly pale and seem- ed inwardly convulsed ; while ever and anon she gave a look, a scornful look, at Sister Maria. She was gathering nerve to speak. Presently she arose, coughed, then slowly reseated herself.
Sister Maria mistaking her emotion, gently, soothingly whispered to her: "Calm yourself, my dear child; some future time, when you are in more fitting mood, you will doubtless amply com- pensate our friends for this disappointment."
" As Miss Mary Young is not capable of per- forming this evening, she is at liberty to withdraw." said the Inspector of the School.
Again a deep color flushed the cheek of Mary Young, yet for a brief space, she did not move;
166
POOR SISTER MARLA.
then summoning the requisite resolution, she rose from the piano, and looking full in the face of Brother Steinhaur, said in a loud voice, trembling with excessive emotion :
"It is not because I am not able to play this piece, sir, or that I have not sufficient confidence to do so, before this company; neither am I at present sick. I know it perfectly-yes, every note of it, and am besides very well-entirely well-but I am determined not to play it, because-because -- " here she cleared her throat, stopped a moment, afterwards cast a withering look upon her kind instructress, at the same moment apparently re- coiling from her; "because," she again said, "I will not, I say; for I am resolved to show, what- ever others may choose to do to the contrary, that from henceforth I will never again submit to the degradation of being dictated to by a mean, low nigger-woman."
Hereupon she passionately closed her music- book; then with an air of offended dignity, hastily took her departure, not only from the instrument, but from the chapel. And as she walked through the ranks of her schoolmates, a scornful and trium- phant expression rested upon her countenance. She slammed the door violently after her.
Poor Sister Maria ! Better, far better, that tho assassin's steel had pierced through her gentle bosom, than this fatal wound by cruel speech had been inflicted upon her. For words can as surely,
167
THE ENVENOMED DART.
and as quickly kill, as the most deadly instrument, venomous reptile, or destructive mineral or weed. And the effect, in this instance, proved immediate ; for it was then the poisoned shaft of the fell de- stroyer entered the heart of the sensitive and un- fortunate woman, and the sound of that last burst of passion was scarcely over, ere, with one wild shriek of agony, she fell senseless, and apparently lifeless upon the floor.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.