Octavia, the Octoroon

by J. F. Lee

Not long after her return, she was in Simon's store, and Elsie's attorney happened to come in. Simon, in an humble, courteous way introduced his niece to the attorney, as "Octavia," who had just graduated with distinguished honors, from the foremost seminary in the North. Both acknowledged the introduction with a bow, after which, Octavia left the store, and the attorney, after making some purchases, doing the same. That was a brief meeting, but Cupid had put in his work. The attorney on his way home determined, if he could, to know more of this lovely being. It must be said here, that the attorney had heard of her beauty and accomplishments, and of her lowly birth, and having one-eighth African blood coursing through her veins. The next day he was in Simon's store again, and remarked that he would like to hear his niece play and sing, and to examine her art collection. Simon said he would be pleased to have him do so, and thought that his niece would make no objection. He said he would be around after tea to enjoy this pleasure. Will wonders never cease? Here was one of the leading attorneys of the city, and purest of the pure Caucasians, becoming smitten with an octoroon. Simon then reminded him of the social barriers that existed and of the effect it might have on his practice, and on him socially. He left the store, remarking "Society be d——." At supper, Simon told his niece that the attorney would be there to hear her play and sing, and to inspect her art collection. She said that it must not be a social call. Simon went back to his store, thinking a lot, but saying nothing. He had been in public business so long, that he could read human character almost like a book. He was satisfied in his mind that Elsie's attorney had succumbed to Octavia's charms, and he would await developments with anxiety.

This attorney was young and handsome and already had gained a lucrative practice at the bar, and was still adding fame to his laurels. Notwithstanding her short acquaintance, Octavia confessed secretly that she was favorably impressed with him, but at the same time, she knew that social barriers would prevent his paying her and she receiving his attentions.

At the appointed time, he was ringing the bell for admittance, which was answered by Elsie, who invited him into the parlor.

Octavia soon came in, when he told her that he had come to have the pleasure of hearing her play and sing, and to inspect her art collection. She gave him a cordial greeting, saying that he flattered her, but, that if she had any talent for music and art, he was welcome to witness and hear the same. He expressed himself as delighted with her paintings; and then requested her to play and sing. She rendered her graduating recital in music, on the piano. He thought it grand and magnificent, and requested her to sing, which she did, using the organ first, and then, guitar, as an accompaniment.

He was charmed, and said that he had never heard her equal. That her voice was sweet, but not inaudible; melodious, but not husky; loud, but not boisterous; clear and harmonious; and that but few prima donnas, who were delighting thousands, by their voices on the stage, came up to her standard of singing.

On leaving, he asked the pleasure of again calling, that he had often heard of her, but had not had the pleasure of meeting her until their brief introduction the day before at her uncle's store—but, that now, he had come, seen and heard, and was conquered.

He said that like the "Queen of Sheba," he could also say, that "the half had not been told." She politely replied that the proprieties of Southern social life would not permit a social call from him on her, but that if it was any pleasure, he might come and hear her play and sing, and to inspect her paintings—he might do so, but not in a social way. He thanked her, and left, and on his way home, hurled anathemas against social laws, so far as they separated him and Octavia. Of course, he knew it would not do for the races to intermingle and commingle, indiscriminately. But Octavia was so near pure white, that it amounted to "a distinction without a difference." That he was passionately in love with Octavia there was no doubt. What must he do? What would the effect of these visits, if known, have on his practice?

He was not wholly indifferent to public opinion, and while he knew what the opinion would be, he was determined to hear Octavia play and sing, let the consequences be what they may.

The attorney was not the only Caucasian who had succumbed to Octavia's charms. A wealthy real estate agent, and president of the local bank, was in the same predicament. He had repeatedly sought an introduction, but had never been able to reach the goal of his desires.

The attorney saw Simon, and asked him to say to his niece that he would come at 8 P.M., to hear some more of her singing. Simon did so. Whereat, she was pleased as well as sad. She cared more for the attorney than she was willing to admit. At the same time she knew that it was wrong, socially, for a white man to be making visits to her uncle's house. The public might think that his visits were purely on business, as he had been her mother's successful attorney. But, if they continued, their object would soon be found out. "You may fool all the people awhile, but you can't fool some of the people all the while." When the attorney came, she had on her "best bib and tucker," and never looked lovelier. Whether she wanted to make an additional impression, or not, on the attorney, the fact is she did. He came, saw and heard again, and was charmed and chained to the spot by her loveliness. He had often heard of Eden—he had found it. He did not see how there could be a more attractive paradise elsewhere. If allowed, he would remain—he was not like Mahomet, who, it is said, after a long hot day's journey over the desert sands, came in sight (just as the sun, as it were, was going down into the Mediterranean) of Damascus, surrounded by a desert and situated on those beautiful rivers, Pharpar and Abana,—Damascus, in which were bubbling fountains, gardens of olives, dates, figs, oranges and all manner of tropical fruits; streets shaded by royal palms, dotted here and there, with magnificent mosques with their lofty minarets, and lovely dwellings. This, after his weary, hot day's journey, was a charming sight, an enchanting spectacle; how he longed to slake his thirst from those bubbling springs, and bathe in those cool fountains, and then rest under those royal palms, or appease his hunger, by eating of those tropical fruits. He was tempted to enter, but after gazing longingly, he said, "it was ordained for man to enter paradise but once," and turned around and retraced his journey. With the attorney, it was different; he had entered this paradise, and knew he had to leave, but how? He arose to do so, and before he was aware of it, he was on his knees before the fair Octavia. He declared his love with all the fervor and ardor of a Castilian, and asked her heart and hand in marriage. He had successfully pleaded the case of her mother, on a false charge; might he not be as successful in pleading his case before her, who was judge, counsel and jury?—his charge was true, that he loved her, adored her, worshipped her. She listened patiently until he finished, and then bade him rise and be seated. Like a chained captive, he obeyed. She then in a cool, quiet, dignified manner told him that she entertained feelings for him that she did not for any other man, and which she supposed writers of romance would call love, but that he knew and she knew that there was a social chasm between them, that could not be bridged—that both knew that the laws of the State were very stringent against the races intermarrying, and that it was wrong for him to propose, or for her to accept. Being a lawyer, he pleaded that it might be a legal wrong, but that there was no moral wrong, and to get around this legal objection, they could soon go to a State that had no laws on the subject. She then told him of her humble birth—that of a slave—and of her life afterwards. He replied that he knew all, but that that did not have a feather's weight with him—that it was not birth, wealth or environment that made noble men or women; but that it was true worth and merit, modesty, beauty, accomplishments, gentleness and dignity, all of which she possessed to a most marked degree. She replied that she was created under the present environments and whether it was fortunate or unfortunate for her, she must submit to it, and that it would be wrong to question the wisdom or unwisdom as to how she was brought into existence. She then told the attorney that her future career would be one of mercy; that she thought it her duty to ameliorate as far as possible, the sufferings of mankind, and that she had decided before graduation, the Lord permitting, to join the Red Cross Society, and asked to be sent to Europe, for a position with the Russian Army, that was then waging war against Turkey. She hated to leave home—her mother, uncle—and as to friends, she had none.