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[Illustration: _Very truly your friend, Wm. Wells Brown._]
MY SOUTHERN HOME:
Or,
The South and Its People.
by
WM. WELLS BROWN, M.D.
Author of “Sketches of Places and People Abroad,”
“Clotelle,” “The Black Man,” “The Negro in
the Rebellion,” “The Rising Son,” etc.
“Go, little book, from this thy solitude!
I cast thee on the waters--go thy ways!
And if, as I believe, thy vein be good,
The world will find thee after many days.”--_Southey._
Boston:
A. G. Brown & Co., Publishers,
28 East Canton Street.
1880.
Copyright, 1880,
by Annie G. Brown.
Electrotyped and Printed by
Duffy, Cashman & Co., Fayette Court, Boston.
PREFACE.
No attempt has been made to create heroes or heroines, or to appeal to
the imagination or the heart.
The earlier incidents were written out from the author’s recollections.
The later sketches here given, are the results of recent visits to
the South, where the incidents were jotted down at the time of their
occurrence, or as they fell from the lips of the narrators, and in
their own unadorned dialect.
BOSTON, May, 1880.
CONTENTS.
I.
Poplar Farm and its occupants. Southern Characteristics. Coon-Hunting
and its results. Sunny side of Slave life on the
Plantation.
II.
The Religious Teaching at Poplar Farm. Rev. Mr. Pinchen.
A Model Southern Preacher. Religious Influence among the
Southerners of the olden time. Genuine negro wit.
III.
A Southern country Doctor. Ancient mode of “pulling teeth.”
Dinkie the King of the Voudoos.
IV.
The Parson and the Slave Trader. Slave life. Jumping the
Broomstick. Plantation humor.
V.
An attempt to introduce Northern ideas. The new Plough. The
Washing-Machine. Cheese-making.
VI.
Southern Amusements,--Wit and Humor. Superstition. Fortune-Telling
in the olden time.
VII.
The Goopher King--his dealings with the Devil; he is feared by
Whites and Blacks. How he mastered the Overseer. Hell
exhibited in the Barn.
VIII.
Slave-Hunting. The Bloodhounds on the Track. The poor
“white Trash.” A Sunday Meeting. A characteristic Sermon
by one of their number.
IX.
Old-Fashioned Corn-Shucking. Plantation Songs: “Shuck that
corn before you eat” an’ “Have that possum nice and sweet.”
Christmas Holidays.
X.
The mysterious, veiled Lady. The white Slave Child. The
beautiful Quadroon,--her heroic death. The Slave Trader and
his Victim. Lola, the white Slave,--the Law’s Victim.
XI.
The introduction of the Cotton Gin, and its influence on the
Price of Slaves. Great rise in Slave property. The great
Southern Slave Trader. How a man got flogged when intended
for another.
XII.
New Orleans in the olden time. A Congo Dance. Visiting the
Angels, and chased by the Devil. A live Ghost.
XIII.
The Slave’s Escape. He is Captured, and again Escapes. How
he outwitted the Slave-Catchers. Quaker Wit and Humor.
XIV.
The Free colored people of the South before the Rebellion. Their
hard lot. Attempt to Enslave them. Re-opening of the African
Slave Trade. Sentiments of distinguished Southern Fire-Eaters.
XV.
Southern control of the National Government. Their contempt
for Northerners. Insult to Northern Statesmen.
XVI.
Proclamation of Emancipation. The last night of Slavery.
Waiting for the Hour. Music from the Banjo on the Wall.
Great rejoicing. Hunting friends. A Son known, Twenty Years
after separation, by the Mark on the bottom of his Foot.
XVII.
Negro equality. Blacks must Paddle their own Canoe. The War
of Races.
XVIII.
Blacks enjoying a Life of Freedom. Alabama negro Cotton-Growers.
Negro street Peddlers; their music and their humors.
A man with One Hundred Children. His experience.
XIX.
The whites of Tennessee,--their hatred to the negro,--their
antecedents. Blacks in Southern Legislatures,--their brief
Power. Re-converting a Daughter from her new Religion.
Prayer and Switches do the work.
XX.
The Blacks. Their old customs still hang upon them. Revival
Meetings. A characteristic Sermon. Costly churches for the
Freedmen. Education. Return of a Son from College.
XXI.
The Freedmen’s Savings Bank. Confidence of the Blacks in the
Institution. All thought it the hope for the negro of the South.
The failure of the Bank and its bad influence.
XXII.
Old Virginia. The F. F. V’s of the olden times,--ex-millionaires
carrying their own Baskets of Provisions from Market.
John Jaspar, the eloquent negro Preacher; his Sermon, “The
Sun does Move.” A characteristic Prayer.
XXIII.
Norfolk Market. Freedmen costermongers. Musical Hawkers.
The Strawberry Woman. Humorous incidents.
XXIV.
The Education of the Blacks. Freedmen’s schools, colleges.
White Teachers in Colored schools. Schools in Tennessee.
Black pupils not allowed to Speak to White Teachers in the
street.
XXV.
Oppressive Laws against Colored People. Revival of the Whipping
Post. The Ku-Klux--their operations in Tennessee.
Lynch Law triumphant.
XXVI.
Colored men as Servants,--their Improvidence. The love of
Dress. Personal effort for Education.
XXVII.
Need of Combination. Should follow the Example set by the
Irish, Germans, Italians, and Chinese who come to this country.
Should patronize their own Race. Cadet Whittaker. Need of
more Pluck.
XXVIII.
Total Abstinence from Intoxicating Drinks a necessary object for
Self-Elevation. Intemperance and its Evils. Literary Associations.
The Exodus. Emigration a Necessity. Should follow
the Example of other Races. Professions and Trades needed.
XXIX.
Mixture of Races. The Anglo-Saxon. Isolated Races: The
Negro--the Irish--the Coptic--the Jews--the Gypsies--the
Romans, Mexicans, and Peruvians. Progressive Negroes,--Artists
and Painters. Pride of Race.
[Illustration: GREAT HOUSE AT POPLAR FARM.]
MY SOUTHERN HOME.
CHAPTER I.
Ten miles north of the city of St. Louis, in the State of Missouri,
forty years ago, on a pleasant plain, sloping off toward a murmuring
stream, stood a large frame-house, two stories high; in front was a
beautiful lake, and, in the rear, an old orchard filled with apple,
peach, pear, and plum trees, with boughs untrimmed, all bearing
indifferent fruit. The mansion was surrounded with piazzas, covered
with grape-vines, clematis, and passion flowers; the Pride of China
mixed its oriental-looking foliage with the majestic magnolia, and the
air was redolent with the fragrance of buds peeping out of every nook,
and nodding upon you with a most unexpected welcome.
The tasteful hand of art, which shows itself in the grounds of European
and New-England villas, was not seen there, but the lavish beauty and
harmonious disorder of nature was permitted to take its own course, and
exhibited a want of taste so commonly witnessed in the sunny South.
The killing effects of the tobacco plant upon the lands of “Poplar
Farm,” was to be seen in the rank growth of the brier, the thistle, the
burdock, and the jimpson weed, showing themselves wherever the strong
arm of the bondman had not kept them down.
Dr. Gaines, the proprietor of “Poplar Farm,” was a good-humored,
sunny-sided old gentleman, who, always feeling happy himself, wanted
everybody to enjoy the same blessing. Unfortunately for him, the Doctor
had been born and brought up in Virginia, raised in a family claiming
to be of the “F. F. V.’s,” but, in reality, was comparatively poor.
Marrying Mrs. Sarah Scott Pepper, an accomplished widow lady of medium
fortune, Dr. Gaines emigrated to Missouri, where he became a leading
man in his locality.
Deeply imbued with religious feeling of the Calvinistic school,
well-versed in the Scriptures, and having an abiding faith in the power
of the Gospel to regenerate the world, the Doctor took great pleasure
in presenting his views wherever his duties called him.
As a physician, he did not rank very high, for it was currently
reported, and generally believed, that the father, finding his son
unfit for mercantile business, or the law, determined to make him
either a clergyman or a physician. Mr. Gaines, Senior, being somewhat
superstitious, resolved not to settle the question too rashly in regard
to the son’s profession, therefore, it is said, flipped a cent, feeling
that “heads or tails” would be a better omen than his own judgment in
the matter. Fortunately for the cause of religion, the head turned up
in favor of the medical profession. Nevertheless, the son often said
that he believed God had destined him for the _sacred calling_, and
devoted much of his time in exhorting his neighbors to seek repentance.
Most planters in our section cared but little about the religious
training of their slaves, regarding them as they did their cattle,--an
investment, the return of which was only to be considered in dollars
and cents. Not so, however, with Dr. John Gaines, for he took special
pride in looking after the spiritual welfare of his slaves, having them
all in the “great house,” at family worship, night and morning.
On Sabbath mornings, reading of the Scriptures, and explaining the
same, generally occupied from one to two hours, and often till half of
the negroes present were fast asleep. The white members of the family
did not take as kindly to the religious teaching of the doctor, as did
the blacks.
For his Christian zeal, I had the greatest respect, for I always
regarded him as a truly pious and conscientious man, willing at all
times to give of his means the needful in spreading the Gospel.
Mrs. Sarah Gaines was a lady of considerable merit, well-educated,
and of undoubted piety. If she did not join heartily in her husband’s
religious enthusiasm, it was not for want of deep and genuine Christian
feeling, but from the idea that he was of more humble origin than
herself, and, therefore, was not a capable instructor.
This difference in birth, this difference in antecedents does much in
the South to disturb family relations wherever it exists, and Mrs.
Gaines, when wishing to show her contempt for the Doctor’s opinions,
would allude to her own parentage and birth in comparison to her
husband’s. Thus, once, when they were having a “family jar,” she, with
tears streaming down her cheeks, and wringing her hands, said,--
“My mother told me that I was a fool to marry a man so much beneath
me,--one so much my inferior in society. And now you show it by
hectoring and aggravating me all you can. But, never mind; I thank the
Lord that He has given me religion and grace to stand it. Never mind,
one of these days the Lord will make up His jewels,--take me home to
glory, out of your sight,--and then I’ll be devilish glad of it!”
These scenes of unpleasantness, however, were not of everyday
occurrence, and, therefore, the great house at the “Poplar Farm,” may
be considered as having a happy family.
Slave children, with almost an alabaster complexion, straight hair, and
blue eyes, whose mothers were jet black, or brown, were often a great
source of annoyance in the Southern household, and especially to the
mistress of the mansion.
Billy, a quadroon of eight or nine years, was amongst the young
slaves, in the Doctor’s house, then being trained up for a servant.
Any one taking a hasty glance at the lad would never suspect that
a drop of negro blood coursed through his blue veins. A gentleman,
whose acquaintance Dr. Gaines had made, but who knew nothing of the
latter’s family relations, called at the house in the Doctor’s absence.
Mrs. Gaines received the stranger, and asked him to be seated, and
remain till the host’s return. While thus waiting, the boy, Billy, had
occasion to pass through the room. The stranger, presuming the lad to
be a son of the Doctor, exclaimed, “How do you do?” and turning to the
lady, said, “how much he looks like his father; I should have known it
was the Doctor’s son, if I had met him in Mexico!”
With flushed countenance and excited voice, Mrs. Gaines informed the
gentleman that the little fellow was “only a slave and nothing more.”
After the stranger’s departure, Billy was seen pulling up grass in
the garden, with bare head, neck and shoulders, while the rays of the
burning sun appeared to melt the child.
This process was repeated every few days for the purpose of giving
the slave the color that nature had refused it. And yet, Mrs. Gaines
was not considered a cruel woman,--indeed she was regarded as a
kind-feeling mistress. Billy, however, a few days later, experienced a
roasting far more severe than the one he had got in the sun.
The morning was cool, and the breakfast table was spread near the
fireplace, where a newly-built fire was blazing up. Mrs. Gaines, being
seated near enough to feel very sensibly the increasing flames, ordered
Billy to stand before her.
The lad at once complied. His thin clothing giving him but little
protection from the fire, the boy soon began to make up faces and to
twist and move about, showing evident signs of suffering.
“What are you riggling about for?” asked the mistress. “It burns me,”
replied the lad; “turn round, then,” said the mistress; and the slave
commenced turning around, keeping it up till the lady arose from the
table.
Billy, however, was not entirely without his crumbs of comfort. It was
his duty to bring the hot biscuit from the kitchen to the great house
table while the whites were at meal. The boy would often watch his
opportunity, take a “cake” from the plate, and conceal it in his pocket
till breakfast was over, and then enjoy his stolen gain. One morning
Mrs. Gaines, observing that the boy kept moving about the room, after
bringing in the “cakes,” and also seeing the little fellow’s pocket
sticking out rather largely, and presuming that there was something hot
there, said, “Come here.” The lad came up; she pressed her hand against
the hot pocket, which caused the boy to jump back. Again the mistress
repeated, “Come here,” and with the same result.
This, of course, set the whole room, servants and all, in a roar. Again
and again the boy was ordered to “come up,” which he did, each time
jumping back, until the heat of the biscuit was exhausted, and then he
was made to take it out and throw it into the yard, where the geese
seized it and held a carnival over it. Billy was heartily laughed at by
his companions in the kitchen and the quarters, and the large blister,
caused by the hot biscuit, created merriment among the slaves, rather
than sympathy for the lad.
Mrs. Gaines, being absent from home one day, and the rest of the
family out of the house, Billy commenced playing with the shot-gun,
which stood in the corner of the room, and which the boy supposed was
unloaded; upon a corner shelf, just above the gun, stood a band-box, in
which was neatly laid away all of Mrs. Gaines’ caps and cuffs, which,
in those days, were in great use.
The gun having the flint lock, the boy amused himself with bringing
down the hammer and striking fire. By this action powder was jarred
into the pan, and the gun, which was heavily charged with shot, was
discharged, the contents passing through the band-box of caps, cutting
them literally to pieces and scattering them over the floor.
Billy gathered up the fragments, put them in the box and placed it upon
the shelf,--he alone aware of the accident.
A few days later, and Mrs. Gaines was expecting company; she called to
Hannah to get her a clean cap. The servant, in attempting to take down
the box, exclaimed: “Lor, misses, ef de rats ain’t bin at dees caps an’
cut ’em all to pieces, jes look here.” With a degree of amazement not
easily described the mistress beheld the fragments as they were emptied
out upon the floor.
Just then a new idea struck Hannah, and she said: “I lay anything dat
gun has been shootin’ off.”
“Where is Billy? Where is Billy?” exclaimed the mistress; “Where is
Billy?” echoed Hannah; fearing that the lady would go into convulsions,
I hastened out to look for the boy, but he was nowhere to be found; I
returned only to find her weeping and wringing her hands, exclaiming,
“O, I am ruined, I am ruined; the company’s coming and not a clean cap
about the house; O, what shall I do, what shall I do?”
I tried to comfort her by suggesting that the servants might get one
ready in time; Billy soon made his appearance, and looked on with
wonderment; and, when asked how he came to shoot off the gun, declared
that he knew nothing about it; and “ef de gun went off, it was of its
own accord.” However, the boy admitted the snapping of the lock or
trigger. A light whipping was all that he got, and for which he was
well repaid by having an opportunity of telling how the “caps flew
about the room when de gun went off.”
Relating the event some time after in the quarters he said: “I golly,
you had aughty seen dem caps fly, and de dust and smok’ in de room. I
thought de judgment day had come, sure nuff.” On the arrival of the
company, Mrs. Gaines made a very presentable appearance, although the
caps and laces had been destroyed. One of the visitors on this occasion
was a young Mr. Sarpee, of St. Louis, who, although above twenty-one
years of age, had never seen anything of country life, and, therefore,
was very anxious to remain over night, and go on a coon hunt. Dr.
Gaines, being lame, could not accompany the gentleman, but sent Ike,
Cato, and Sam; three of the most expert coon-hunters on the farm. Night
came, and off went the young man and the boys on the coon hunt. The
dogs scented game, after being about half an hour in the woods, to the
great delight of Mr. Sarpee, who was armed with a double barrel pistol,
which, he said, be carried both to “protect himself, and to shoot the
coon.”
The halting of the boys and the quick, sharp bark of the dogs announced
that the game was “treed,” and the gentleman from the city pressed
forward with fond expectation of seeing the coon, and using his pistol.
However, the boys soon raised the cry of “polecat, polecat; get out de
way”; and at the same time, retreating as if they were afraid of an
attack from the animal. Not so with Mr. Sarpee; he stood his ground,
with pistol in hand, waiting to get a sight of the game. He was not
long in suspense, for the white and black spotted creature soon made
its appearance, at which the city gentleman opened fire upon the skunk,
which attack was immediately answered by the animal, and in a manner
that caused the young man to wish that he, too, had retreated with the
boys. Such an odor, he had never before inhaled; and, what was worse,
his face, head, hands and clothing was covered with the cause of the
smell, and the gentleman, at once, said: “Come, let’s go home; I’ve got
enough of coon-hunting.” But, didn’t the boys enjoy the fun.
The return of the party home was the signal for a hearty laugh, and all
at the expense of the city gentleman. So great and disagreeable was the
smell, that the young man had to go to the barn, where his clothing was
removed, and he submitted to the process of washing by the servants.
Soap, scrubbing brushes, towels, indeed, everything was brought into
requisition, but all to no purpose. The skunk smell was there, and was
likely to remain. Both family and visitors were at the breakfast table,
the next morning, except Mr. Sarpee. He was still in the barn, where he
had slept the previous night. Nor did there seem to be any hope that he
would be able to visit the house, for the smell was intolerable. The
substitution of a suit of the Doctor’s clothes for his own failed to
remedy the odor.
Dinkie, the conjurer, was called in. He looked the young man over,
shook his head in a knowing manner, and said it was a big job. Mr.
Sarpee took out a Mexican silver dollar, handed it to the old negro,
and told him to do his best. Dinkie smiled, and he thought that he
could remove the smell.
His remedy was to dig a pit in the ground large enough to hold the man,
put him in it, and cover him over with fresh earth; consequently, Mr.
Sarpee was, after removing his entire clothing, buried, all except his
head, while his clothing was served in the same manner. A servant held
an umbrella over the unhappy man, and fanned him during the eight hours
that he was there.
Taken out of the pit at six o’clock in the evening, all joined with
Dinkie in the belief that Mr. Sarpee “smelt sweeter,” than when
interred in the morning; still the smell of the “polecat” was there.
Five hours longer in the pit, the following day, with a rub down by
Dinkie, with his “Goopher,” fitted the young man for a return home to
the city.
I never heard that Mr. Sarpee ever again joined in a “coon hunt.”
No description of mine, however, can give anything like a correct idea
of the great merriment of the entire slave population on “Poplar Farm,”
caused by the “coon hunt.” Even Uncle Ned, the old superannuated slave,
who seldom went beyond the confines of his own cabin, hobbled out, on
this occasion, to take a look at “de gentleman fum de city,” while
buried in the pit.
At night, in the quarters, the slaves had a merry time over the “coon
hunt.”
“I golly, but didn’t de polecat give him a big dose?” said Ike.
“But how Mr. Sarpee did talk French to hissef when de ole coon peppered
him,” remarked Cato.
“He won’t go coon huntin’ agin, soon, I bet you,” said Sam.
“De coon hunt,” and “de gemmen fum de city,” was the talk for many
days.