"Oh, march, de angel, march! oh, march, de
angel, march!
My soul arise in heab'n, Lord,
Fur to hear de ven Jordan roll!"
The "Mr. Fuller" referred to was their former minister, to whom they
seem to have been much attached. He is a Southerner, but loyal, and is
now, I believe, living in Baltimore. After the sermon the minister
called upon one of the elders, a gray-headed old man, to pray. His
manner was very fervent and impressive, but his language was so broken
that to our unaccustomed ears it was quite unintelligible. After the
services the people gathered in groups outside, talking among
themselves, and exchanging kindly greetings with the superintendents and
teachers. In their bright handkerchiefs and white aprons they made a
striking picture under the gray-mossed trees. We drove afterward a mile
farther, to the Episcopal Church, in which the aristocracy of the island
used to worship. It is a small white building, situated in a fine grove
of live-oaks, at the junction of several roads. On one of the tombstones
in the yard is the touching inscription in memory of two
children,--"Blessed little lambs, and _art thou_ gathered into the fold
of the only true shepherd? Sweet _lillies_ of the valley, and _art thou_
removed to a more congenial soil?" The floor of the church is of stone,
the pews of polished oak. It has an organ, which is not so entirely out
of tune as are the pianos on the island. One of the ladies played, while
the gentlemen sang,--old-fashioned New-England church-music, which it
was pleasant to hear, but it did not thrill us as the singing of the
people had done.
During the week we moved to Oaklands, our future home. The house was of
one story, with a low-roofed piazza running the whole length. The
interior had been thoroughly scrubbed and whitewashed; the exterior was
guiltless of whitewash or paint. There were five rooms, all quite small,
and several dark little entries, in one of which we found shelves lined
with old medicine-bottles. These were a part of the possessions of the
former owner, a Rebel physician, Dr. Sams by name. Some of them were
still filled with his nostrums. Our furniture consisted of a bedstead,
two bureaus, three small pine tables, and two chairs, one of which had a
broken back. These were lent to us by the people. The masters, in their
hasty flight from the islands, left nearly all their furniture; but much
of it was destroyed or taken by the soldiers who came first, and what
they left was removed by the people to their own houses. Certainly, they
have the best right to it. We had made up our minds to dispense with all
luxuries and even many conveniences; but it was rather distressing to
have no fire, and nothing to eat. Mr. H. had already appropriated a room
for the store which he was going to open for the benefit of the freed
people, and was superintending the removal of his goods. So L. and I
were left to our own resources. But Cupid the elder came to the
rescue,--Cupid, who, we were told, was to be our right-hand man, and who
very graciously informed us that he would take care of us; which he at
once proceeded to do by bringing in some wood, and busying himself in
making a fire in the open fireplace. While he is thus engaged, I will
try to describe him. A small, wiry figure, stockingless, shoeless, out
at the knees and elbows, and wearing the remnant of an old straw hat,
which looked as if it might have done good service in scaring the crows
from a cornfield. The face nearly black, very ugly, but with the
shrewdest expression I ever saw, and the brightest, most humorous
twinkle in the eyes. One glance at Cupid's face showed that he was not a
person to be imposed upon, and that he was abundantly able to take care
of himself, as well as of us. The chimney obstinately refused to draw,
in spite of the original and very uncomplimentary epithets which Cupid
heaped upon it,--while we stood by, listening to him in amusement,
although nearly suffocated by the smoke. At last, perseverance
conquered, and the fire began to burn cheerily. Then Amaretta, our
cook,--a neat-looking black woman, adorned with the gayest of
head-handkerchiefs,--made her appearance with some eggs and hominy,
after partaking of which we proceeded to arrange our scanty furniture,
which was soon done. In a few days we began to look civilized, having
made a table-cover of some red and yellow handkerchiefs which we found
among the store-goods,--a carpet of red and black woollen plaid,
originally intended for frocks and shirts,--a cushion, stuffed with
corn-husks and covered with calico, for a lounge, which Ben, the
carpenter, had made for us of pine boards,--and lastly some corn-husk
beds, which were an unspeakable luxury, after having endured agonies for
several nights, sleeping on the slats of a bedstead. It is true, the
said slats were covered with blankets, but these might as well have been
sheets of paper for all the good they did us. What a resting-place it
was! Compared to it, the gridiron of St. Lawrence--fire excepted--was as
a bed of roses.
The first day at school was rather trying. Most of my children were very
small, and consequently restless. Some were too young to learn the
alphabet. These little ones were brought to school because the older
children--in whose care their parents leave them while at work--could
not come without them. We were therefore willing to have them come,
although they seemed to have discovered the secret of perpetual motion,
and tried one's patience sadly. But after some days of positive, though
not severe treatment, order was brought out of chaos, and I found but
little difficulty in managing and quieting the tiniest and most restless
spirits. I never before saw children so eager to learn, although I had
had several years' experience in New-England schools. Coming to school
is a constant delight and recreation to them. They come here as other
children go to play. The older ones, during the summer, work in the
fields from early morning until eleven or twelve o'clock, and then come
into school, after their hard toil in the hot sun, as bright and as
anxious to learn as ever.
Of course there are some stupid ones, but these are the minority. The
majority learn with wonderful rapidity. Many of the grown people are
desirous of learning to read. It is wonderful how a people who have been
so long crushed to the earth, so imbruted as these have been,--and they
are said to be among the most degraded negroes of the South,--can have
so great a desire for knowledge, and such a capability for attaining it.
One cannot believe that the haughty Anglo-Saxon race, after centuries of
such an experience as these people have had, would be very much superior
to them. And one's indignation increases against those who, North as
well as South, taunt the colored race with inferiority while they
themselves use every means in their power to crush and degrade them,
denying them every right and privilege, closing against them every
avenue of elevation and improvement. Were they, under such
circumstances, intellectual and refined, they would certainly be vastly
superior to any other race that ever existed.
After the lessons, we used to talk freely to the children, often giving
them slight sketches of some of the great and good men. Before teaching
them the "John Brown" song, which they learned to sing with great
spirit, Miss T. told them the story of the brave old man who had died
for them. I told them about Toussaint, thinking it well they should know
what one of their own color had done for his race. They listened
attentively, and seemed to understand. We found it rather hard to keep
their attention in school. It is not strange, as they have been so
entirely unused to intellectual concentration. It is necessary to
interest them every moment, in order to keep their thoughts from
wandering. Teaching here is consequently far more fatiguing than at the
North. In the church, we had of course but one room in which to hear all
the children; and to make one's self heard, when there were often as
many as a hundred and forty reciting at once, it was necessary to tax
the lungs very severely.
My walk to school, of about a mile, was part of the way through a road
lined with trees,--on one side stately pines, on the other noble
live-oaks, hung with moss and canopied with vines. The ground was
carpeted with brown, fragrant pine-leaves; and as I passed through in
the morning, the woods were enlivened by the delicious songs of
mocking-birds, which abound here, making one realize the truthful
felicity of the description in "Evangeline,"--
"The mocking-bird, wildest of singers,
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music
That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen."
The hedges were all aglow with the brilliant scarlet berries of the
cassena, and on some of the oaks we observed the mistletoe, laden with
its pure white, pearl-like berries. Out of the woods the roads are
generally bad, and we found it hard work plodding through the deep sand.
Mr. H.'s store was usually crowded, and Cupid was his most valuable
assistant. Gay handkerchiefs for turbans, pots and kettles, and
molasses, were principally in demand, especially the last. It was
necessary to keep the molasses-barrel in the yard, where Cupid presided
over it, and harangued and scolded the eager, noisy crowd, collected
around, to his heart's content; while up the road leading to the house
came constantly processions of men, women, and children, carrying on
their heads cans, jugs, pitchers, and even bottles,--anything, indeed,
that was capable of containing molasses. It is wonderful with what ease
they carry all sorts of things on their heads,--heavy bundles of wood,
hoes and rakes, everything, heavy or light, that can be carried in the
hands; and I have seen a woman, with a bucketful of water on her head,
stoop down and take up another in her hand, without spilling a drop from
either.
We noticed that the people had much better taste in selecting materials
for dresses than we had supposed. They do not generally like gaudy
colors, but prefer neat, quiet patterns. They are, however, very fond of
all kinds of jewelry. I once asked the children in school what their
ears were for. "To put ring in," promptly replied one of the little
girls.
These people are exceedingly polite in their manner towards each other,
each new arrival bowing, scraping his feet, and shaking hands with the
others, while there are constant greetings, such as, "Huddy? How's yer
lady?" ("How d' ye do? How's your wife?") The hand-shaking is performed
with the greatest possible solemnity. There is never the faintest shadow
of a smile on anybody's face during this performance. The children, too,
are taught to be very polite to their elders, and it is the rarest thing
to hear a disrespectful word from a child to his parent, or to any grown
person. They have really what the New-Englanders call "beautiful
manners."
We made daily visits to the "quarters," which were a few rods from the
house. The negro-houses, on this as on most of the other plantations,
were miserable little huts, with nothing comfortable or home-like about
them, consisting generally of but two very small rooms,--the only way of
lighting them, no matter what the state of the weather, being to leave
the doors and windows open. The windows, of course, have no glass in
them. In such a place, a father and mother with a large family of
children are often obliged to live. It is almost impossible to teach
them habits of neatness and order, when they are so crowded. We look
forward anxiously to the day when better houses shall increase their
comfort and pride of appearance.
Oaklands is a very small plantation. There were not more than eight or
nine families living on it. Some of the people interested us much.
Celia, one of the best, is a cripple. Her master, she told us, was too
mean to give his slaves clothes enough to protect them, and her feet and
legs were so badly frozen that they required amputation. She has a
lovely face,--well-featured and singularly gentle. In every household
where there was illness or trouble, Celia's kind, sympathizing face was
the first to be seen, and her services were always the most acceptable.
Harry, the foreman on the plantation, a man of a good deal of natural
intelligence, was most desirous of learning to read. He came in at night
to be taught, and learned very rapidly. I never saw any one more
determined to learn. "We enjoyed hearing him talk about the
"gun-shoot,"--so the people call the capture of Bay Point and Hilton
Head. They never weary of telling you "how Massa run when he hear de
fust gun."
"Why didn't you go with him, Harry?" I asked.
"Oh, Miss, 't wasn't 'cause Massa didn't try to 'suade me. He tell we
dat de Yankees would shoot we, or would sell we to Cuba, an' do all de
wust tings to we, when dey come. 'Bery well, Sar,' says I. 'If I go wid
you, I be good as dead. If I stay here, I can't be no wust; so if I got
to dead, I might's well dead here as anywhere. So I'll stay here an'
wait for de "dam Yankees."' Lor', Miss, I knowed he wasn't tellin' de
truth all de time."
"But why didn't you believe him, Harry?"
"Dunno, Miss; somehow we hear de Yankees was our friends, an' dat we'd
be free when dey come, an' 'pears like we believe _dat_."
I found this to be true of nearly all the people I talked with, and I
thought it strange they should have had so much faith in the
Northerners. Truly, for years past, they had had but little cause to
think them very friendly. Cupid told us that his master was so daring as
to come back, after he had fled from the island, at the risk of being
taken prisoner by our soldiers; and that he ordered the people to get
all the furniture together and take it to a plantation on the opposite
side of the creek, and to stay on that side themselves. "So," said
Cupid, "dey could jus' sweep us all up in a heap, an' put us in de boat.
An' he telled me to take Patience--dat's my wife--an' de chil'en down to
a certain pint, an' den I could come back, if I choose. Jus' as if I was
gwine to be sich a goat!" added he, with a look and gesture of ineffable
contempt. He and the rest of the people, instead of obeying their
master, left the place and hid themselves in the woods; and when he came
to look for them, not one of all his "faithful servants" was to be
found. A few, principally house-servants, had previously been carried
away.
In the evenings, the children frequently came in to sing and shout for
us. These "shouts" are very strange,--in truth, almost indescribable. It
is necessary to hear and see in order to have any clear idea of them.
The children form a ring, and move around in a kind of shuffling dance,
singing all the time. Four or five stand apart, and sing very
energetically, clapping their hands, stamping their feet, and rocking
their bodies to and fro. These are the musicians, to whose performance
the shouters keep perfect time. The grown people on this plantation did
not shout, but they do on some of the other plantations. It is very
comical to see little children, not more than three or four years old,
entering into the performance with all their might. But the shouting of
the grown people is rather solemn and impressive than otherwise. We
cannot determine whether it has a religious character or not. Some of
the people tell us that it has, others that it has not. But as the
shouts of the grown people are always in connection with their
religious meetings, it is probable that they are the barbarous
expression of religion, handed down to them from their African
ancestors, and destined to pass away under the influence of Christian
teachings. The people on this island have no songs. They sing only
hymns, and most of these are sad. Prince, a large black boy from a
neighboring plantation, was the principal shouter among the children. It
seemed impossible for him to keep still for a moment. His performances
were most amusing specimens of Ethiopian gymnastics. Amaretta the
younger, a cunning, kittenish little creature of only six years old, had
a remarkably sweet voice. Her favorite hymn, which we used to hear her
singing to herself as she walked through the yard, is one of the oddest
we have heard:--
"What makes old Satan follow me so?
Satan got nuttin' 't all fur to do wid me.