Clive Bixby Monologue

“Uh… There’s that dreadful call again. Dear lord, it’s only six in the morning! Darling, you need to talk to that new overseer to find another approach to assembly the workers (Ritcher 258). We are not in the war anymore! The whistling has made the kids and I couldn’t sleep well for days.” said the wife to her husband, Clive Bixby, one of Virginia’s ruling elites, a wealthy planter with a tobacco farm named “Glamorton”. “Alright, Julie, I will,” said Mr. Bixby, frowned, buttoning his linen shirt, “He is probably just excited to get this job, I suppose. I will talk to him later, but I need to dash now.” Five new indentured servants under Mr. Bixby’s name were supposed to arrive at James Port today. Though the masters didn’t normally go and fetch
On the way, he started to recall his last visit there. It was three years ago, when Sir Berkeley returned to the burned capital after the rebellion (Foner 100). The city was ruined, and almost as much to repair as if it had been new to build. Ashes and dirt covered the streets and the walls. It was as if an enormous dark cloud had engulfed the city. Clive was summoned to attend a meeting with the rest of the ruling class, discussing on the follow-up plans. He could still remember the whispering before the meeting started. “Haven’t you heard the news?” Cameron Tucker, who ran a tobacco plantation larger than Glamorton, spoke secretly to Clive, “An investigative committee, directly sent by the Crown, is coming here (Foner 100).” “Why? What would they do?” “Obviously, it’s for the old Berkeley.” “I can’t think of another reason why,” Sir Gary chimed in. “His majesty is unpleased. It is like that our Sir Berkeley would be recalled back.” Not long before the rebellion, Clive happened to overhear the discussion among the workers on his farm. They were murmuring about unfair taxes and ‘the government that does nothing”. He was concerned that with more settlers coming to Virginia, if another rebellion should happen, it probably would not be controlled effortlessly like this time. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Mr. Bixby. Things will turn out fine.” Cameron said with a smile, as he could read through Clive’s face. But Clive
Bixby arrived home at around half past seven. One of their carriages got stuck in the mud because of the sudden rain, so they needed to stop and pull the cart wheels out. Mrs. Bixby had been waiting at the porch, worried. “How long have you been standing in there? It’s late October, for Christ’s sake. Why didn’t that new maid bring you a shawl? Look how cold your hands are.” Clive complained as Juliana took off his suede coat. “Don’t blame Lucy. It’s fine, Darling. I was just a little worried that you didn’t come back on time,” she said, “Dinner is ready. I presume that you didn’t have a proper lunch, so let’s see if there’s anything you’d enjoy.” Clive squeezed out a smile, but didn’t say more