Phillis was at her ironing early in the morning, for she liked to hurry it
over before the heat of the day. Her cabin doors were open, and her
flowers, which had been watered by a slight rain that fell about daybreak,
looked fresh and beautiful. Her house could be hardly called a cabin, for
it was very much superior to the others on the plantation, though they were
all comfortable. Phillis was regarded by the Weston family as the most
valuable servant they owned--and, apart from her services, there were
strong reasons why they were attached to her. She had nursed Mrs. Weston in
her last illness, and as her death occurred immediately after Arthur's
birth, she nourished him as her own child, and loved him quite as well. Her
comfort and wishes were always objects of the greatest consideration to the
family, and this was proved whenever occasion allowed. Her neatly
white-washed cottage was enclosed by a wooden fence in good condition--her
little garden laid out with great taste, if we except the rows of
stiffly-trimmed box which Phillis took pride in. A large willow tree shaded
one side of it; and on the other, gaudy sunflowers reared their heads, and
the white and Persian lilacs, contrasted with them. All kinds of small
flowers and roses adorned the front of the house, and you might as well
have sought for a diamond over the whole place, as a weed. The back of the
lot was arranged for the accommodation of her pigs and chickens; and two
enormous peacocks, that were fond of sunning themselves by the front door,
were the handsomest ornaments about the place.
The room in which Phillis ironed, was not encumbered with much furniture.
Her ironing-table occupied a large part of its centre, and in the ample
fireplace was blazing a fire great enough to cook a repast for a moderate
number of giants. Behind the back door stood a common pine bedstead, with
an enormous bed upon it. How any bedstead held such a bed was remarkable;
for Phillis believed there was a virtue in feathers even in the hottest
weather, and she would rather have gone to roost on the nearest tree than
to have slept on any thing else. The quilt was of a domestic blue and
white, her own manufacture, and the cases to the pillows were very white
and smooth. A little, common trundle bedstead was underneath, and on it was
the bedding which was used for the younger children at night. The older
ones slept in the servants' wing in the house, Phillis making use of two
enormous chests, which were Bacchus's, and her wardrobes, for sleeping
purposes for a couple more. To the right of the bed, was the small chest of
drawers, over which was suspended Bacchus's many-sided piece of shaving
glass, and underneath it a pine box containing his shaving weapons. Several
chairs, in a disabled state, found places about the room, and Phillis's
clothes-horse stood with open arms, ready to receive the white and
well-ironed linen that was destined to hang upon it. On each side of the
fireplace was a small dresser, with plates and jars of all sizes and
varieties, and over each were suspended some branches of trees, inviting
the flies to rest upon them. There was no cooking done in this room, there
being a small shed for that purpose, back of the house; not a spot of
grease dimmed the whiteness of the floors, and order reigned supreme,
marvellous to relate! where a descendant of Afric's daughters presided.
Lydia had gone as usual to Miss Janet, and several of the other children
were busy about the yard, feeding the chickens, sweeping up, and employed
in various ways; the only one who ever felt inclined to be lazy, and who
was in body and mind the counterpart of his father, being seated on the
door step, declaring he had a pain in his foot.
The adjoining room was the place in which Phillis's soul delighted, the
door of it being at all times locked, and the key lost in the depths of her
capacious pocket. From this place of retirement it emerged when any of the
family honored her with their company, especially when attended by
visitors; and after their departure, traces of their feet were carefully
sought with keen and anxious eyes, and quickly obliterated with broom and
duster.
This, her sanctum sanctorum, was a roomy apartment with three windows, each
shaded by white cotton curtains. On the floor was a home-made carpet; no
hand was employed in its manufacture save its owner's, from the time she
commenced tearing the rags in strips, to the final blow given to the last
tack that confined it to the floor. A very high post bedstead, over which
were suspended white cotton curtains, gave an air of grandeur to one side
of the room. No one had slept in it for ten years, though it was made with
faultless precision. The quilt over it contained pieces of every calico and
gingham dress that had been worn in the Weston family since the Revolution,
and in the centre had been transferred from a remnant of curtain calico, an
eagle with outstretched wings. The pillow cases were finished off with tape
trimming, Alice's work, at Cousin Janet's suggestion. Over an old
fashioned-mahogany bureau hung an oval looking glass, which was carefully
covered from the flies. An easy chair stood by the window at the foot of
the bed, which had, like most of the other ancient looking pieces of
furniture, occupied a conspicuous place in Mr. Weston's house. Six chairs
planted with unyielding stiffness against the walls seemed to grow out of
the carpet; and the very high fender enclosed a pair of andirons that any
body with tolerable eyesight could have seen their faces in.
Over the mantel piece were suspended two pictures. One was a likeness of
Mr. Weston, cut in paper over a black surface, with both hands behind him,
and his right foot foremost; the other was a picture of the Shepherds in
Pilgrim's Progress, gazing through a spy-glass at the Celestial city.
Alice's first sampler, framed in a black frame, hung on one side of the
room, and over it was a small sword which used to swing by Arthur's side,
when receiving lessons in military science from Bacchus, who, in his own
opinion, was another Bonaparte. Into this room Phillis's children gazed
with wondering eyes; and those among the plantation servants who had been
honored with a sight of it, declared it superior, in every respect, to
their master's drawing room; holding in especial reverence a small table,
covered with white, which supported the weight of Phillis's family Bible,
where were registered in Arthur's and Alice's handwriting, the births of
all her twelve descendants, as well as the ceremony which united her to
their illustrious father.
Phillis was ironing away with a good heart, when she was interrupted by a
summons to attend her master in the library. She obeyed it with very little
delay, and found Mr. Weston seated in his arm-chair, looking over a note
which he held in his hand.
"Come in, Phillis," he said, in a kind but grave manner. "I want to speak
with you for a few moments; and as I have always found you truthful, I have
no doubt you will be perfectly so on the present occasion."
"What is it, master?" Phillis said, respectfully.
"I received a note, yesterday, from Mr. Dawson, about his servant Jim, who
ran away three weeks ago. He charges me with having permitted my servants
to shelter him for the night, on my plantation; having certain information,
that he was seen leaving it the morning after the severe storm we had about
that time. If you know any thing of it, Phillis, I require you to tell it
to me; I hardly think any of the other servants had opportunities of doing
so, and yet I cannot believe that you would so far forget yourself as to do
what is not only wrong, but calculated to involve me in serious
difficulties with my neighbors."
"I hope you will not be angry with me, master?" said Phillis, "but I can't
tell a lie; I let Jim stay in my room that night, and I've been mightily
troubled about it; I was afeard you would be angry with me, if you heard of
it, and yet, master, I could not help it when it happened."
"Could not help it! Phillis," said Mr. Weston. "What do you mean by that?
Why did you not inform me of it, that I might have sent him off?"
"I couldn't find it in my heart, sir," said Phillis, the tears coming in
her fine eyes. "The poor creature come in when the storm was at its worst.
I had no candle lit; for the lightning was so bright that I hadn't no call
for any other light. Bacchus was out in it all, and I was thinking he would
be brought in dead drunk, or dead in earnest, when all at once Jim burst
open the door, and asked me to let him stay there. I know'd he had run
away, and at first I told him to go off, and not be gitting me into
trouble; but, master, while I was sending him off such a streak of
lightning come in, and such a crash of thunder, that I thought the Almighty
had heard me turn him out, and would call me to account for it, when Jim
and me should stand before him at the Judgment Day. I told Jim he had
better go back to his master, that he wouldn't have any comfort, always
hiding himself, and afeard to show his face, but he declared he would die
first; and so as I couldn't persuade him to go home agin, I couldn't help
myself, for I thought it would be a sin and shame, to turn a beast out in
such a storm as that. As soon as the day began to break, and before, too, I
woke him up, and told him never to come to my cabin again, no matter what
happened. And so, master, I've told you the whole truth, and I am sure you
couldn't have turned the poor wretch out to perish in that storm, no
matter what would have come of it after."
Phillis had gained confidence as she proceeded, and Mr. Weston heard her
without interruption.
"I can hardly blame you," he then said, "for what you have done; but,
Phillis, it must never be repeated. Jim is a great rascal, and if I were
his master I would be glad to be rid of him, but my plantation must not
shelter runaway slaves. I am responsible for what my servants do. I should
be inclined to hold other gentlemen responsible for the conduct of theirs.
The laws of Virginia require the rights of the master to be respected, and
though I shan't make a constable of myself, still I will not allow any such
thing to be repeated. Did Bacchus know it?"
"No, indeed, sir; he hates Jim, and no good, may be, would have come of his
knowing it; besides, he was asleep long after Jim went off, and there was
too much whiskey in him to depend on what he'd have to say."
"That will do, Phillis; and see that such a thing never happens again,"
said Mr. Weston.
Phillis went back to her ironing, assured her master was not angry with
her. Yet she sighed as she thought of his saying, "see that such a thing
never happens again." "If it had been a clear night," she thought within
herself, "he shouldn't have stayed there. But it was the Lord himself that
sent the storm, and I can't see that he never sends another. Anyway its
done, and can't be helped;" and Phillis busied herself with her work and
her children.
I have not given Phillis's cottage as a specimen of the cabins of the
negroes of the South. It is described from the house of a favorite servant.
Yet are their cabins generally, healthy and airy. Interest, as well as a
wish for the comfort and happiness of the slave, dictates an attention to
his wants and feelings. "Slavery," says Voltaire, "is as ancient as war;
war as human nature." It is to be wished that _truth_ had some such
intimate connection with human nature. Who, for instance, could read
without an indignant thought, the following description from the pen of
Mrs. Stowe: "They (their cabins) were rude shells, destitute of any pieces
of furniture, except a heap of straw, foul with dirt, spread confusedly
over the floor." "The small village was alive with no inviting sounds;
hoarse, guttural voices, contending at the handmills, where their morsel of
hard corn was yet to be ground into meal to fit it for the cake that was to
constitute their only supper." But such statements need no denial; the very
appearance of the slaves themselves show their want of truth. Look at their
sound and healthy limbs, hear the odd, but sweet and musical song that
arrests the traveler as he goes on his way; listen to the ready jest which
is ever on his lips, and see if the slavery which God has permitted in all
ages to exist, is as is here described; and judge if our fair Southern land
is tenanted by such fiends as they are represented to be, by those who are
trying to make still worse the condition of a mass of God's creatures, born
to a life of toil, but comparative freedom from care. If it be His will
that men should be born free and equal, that will is not revealed in the
Bible from the time of the patriarchs to the present day. There are
directions there for the master and the slave. When the period of
emancipation advances, other signs of the times will herald it, besides the
uncalled-for interference, and the gross misrepresentations, of the men and
women of the North.
Sidney Smith said of a man, who was a great talker, that a few flashes of
silence would make a great improvement in him. So of the Abolition cause, a
few flashes of truth would make it decidedly more respectable.