DR. NEWELL AND WORK OF THE YOUNG LADIES’ GUILDS
“These Guilds,” said Dr. Newell, taking my arm as we left the dinner
table one afternoon, “are most excellent institutions. Nothing has done
more to facilitate a happy solution of the so-called Negro problem of
the past than they, and their history is a most fascinating story, as
it pictures their origin by a a young Southern heroine of wealth and
standing with philanthropic motives, who while on her way to church one
Sunday morning was moved by the sight of a couple of barefooted Negro
children playing in the street. Her heart went out to them. She thought
of the efforts being made for the heathen abroad, when the needy at our
very doors were neglected. Moved towards the work as if by inspiration,
she gave her whole time and attention and considerable of her vast
wealth to organizing these guilds all over the country. She met with
much opposition and was ridiculed as the ‘nigger angel,’ but this did
not deter her and she lived to see the work she organized planted and
growing in all the Southland. Cecelia was her name and the incorporated
name of these organizations is the Cecilian Guild.”
“I should be glad to read the history of this movement,” said I,
“for all I have learned about it through Miss Davis and yourself is
exceedingly interesting.”
“One of the problems met with in the outset was that of the fallen
woman,” said the Doctor, “although the Negroes were never so immoral
as was alleged of them. You will recall that after the Civil War many
of the slave marriages were declared illegal and remarriage became
necessary. Twenty-five cents was the license fee. Thousands showed
their faithfulness to each other by complying with this law--a most
emphatic argument of the Negro’s faithfulness to the marriage vows.
Day after day long files of these sons of Africa stood in line waiting
with their ‘quarters’ in hand to renew their vows to the wife of their
youth. Many were old and infirm--a number were young and vigorous,
there was no compulsion and the former relations might have been
severed and other selections made; but not so, they were renewing the
old vows and making legal in freedom that which was illegal now because
of slavery. Would the 500,000 white divorcees in America in your time
have done this?” the doctor asked.
“Let me relate to you a story connected with the work of one of the
Cecilian Guilds,” said the doctor. “A bright faced octoroon girl living
in one of our best Southern homes became peculiarly attractive to a
brother of her mistress, a young woman of much character, who loved her
maid and loved her brother. The situation grew acute; heroic treatment
became necessary as the octoroon related to her mistress in great
distress every approach and insinuation made by the young Lothario, his
avowals of love, his promises to die for her, his readiness to renounce
all conventionalities and flee with her to another state. To all this
the octoroon was like ice. Her mother had been trained in the same
household and was honored and beloved. Her father was an octoroon--and
the girl was a chip of both old blocks. The mistress remonstrated,
threatened and begged her brother to no avail, and finally decided to
send the girl North, as a last resort, a decision which pleased the
maid, who desired to be rid of her tormentor.
“But the trip North only made matters worse. Two years after Eva
had made her home with a family in Connecticut, John Guilford turns
up. He had been married to his cousin, whom he didn’t love, and
while practising medicine in one of the leading cities had become
distinguished in his profession. He met Eva during a professional
visit to her new home in Connecticut. The old flame was rekindled. He
concealed the fact of his marriage and offered her his hand, stating
that he must take her to another town and keep her incognito, to avoid
ruining his practice by the gossip which his marriage to a servant
girl would naturally create. Fair promises--which generally do ‘butter
parsnips,’ in love affairs, at least--overcame the fair Eva; she
consented to marry the young physician. She lived in another town, she
bore him children, he loved her. Finally the real wife, who had borne
him no offspring, ascertained the truth. Her husband pleaded hard with
her, told her of his love for the girl and how, under the spell of his
fondness for children, and following the example of the great Zola, he
had yielded to the tempter. ‘But,’ he begged, ‘forgive me because of
your love--save my name and our fortune.’ This she finally did. Poor
Eva, when her second child was four years old, died, never knowing but
that she was the true wife of her deceiver. Her children were adopted
by the Guilfords as their own, grew up and entered society under the
Guilford name and no one to-day will charge them with their father’s
sin.”