My father was an indigo planter; his name was Randolph. I bear his name
in full--George Randolph.
There is Indian blood in my veins. My father was of the Randolphs of
Roanoke--hence descended from the Princess Pocahontas. He was proud of
his Indian ancestry--almost vain of it.
It may sound paradoxical, especially to European ears; but it is true,
that white men in America, who have Indian blood in them, are proud of
the taint. Even to be a "half-breed" is no badge of shame--particularly
where the _sang mele_ has been gifted with fortune. Not all the volumes
that have been written bear such strong testimony to the grandeur of the
Indian character as this one fact--we are not ashamed to acknowledge
them as ancestry!
Hundreds of white families lay claim to descent from the Virginian
princess. If their claims be just, then must the fair Pocahontas have
been a blessing to her lord.
I think my father _was_ of the true lineage; at all events, he belonged
to a proud family in the "Old Dominion;" and during his early life had
been surrounded by sable slaves in hundreds. But his rich patrimonial
lands became at length worn-out--profuse hospitality well-nigh ruined
him; and not brooking an inferior station, he gathered up the fragments
of his fortune, and "moved" southward--there to begin the world anew.
I was born before this removal, and am therefore a native of Virginia;
but my earliest impressions of a home were formed upon the banks of the
beautiful Suwanee in Florida. That was the scene of my boyhood's life--
the spot consecrated to me by the joys of youth and the charms of early
love.
I would paint the picture of my boyhood's home. Well do I remember it:
so fair a scene is not easily effaced from the memory.
A handsome "frame"-house, coloured white, with green Venetians over the
windows, and a wide verandah extending all round. Carved wooden
porticoes support the roof of this verandah, and a low balustrade with
light railing separates it from the adjoining grounds--from the flower
parterre in front, the orangery on the right flank and a large garden on
the left. From the outer edge of the parterre, a smooth lawn slopes
gently to the bank of the river--here expanding to the dimensions of a
noble lake, with distant wooded shores, islets that seem suspended in
the air, wild-fowl upon the wing, and wild-fowl in the water.
Upon the lawn, behold tall tapering palms, with pinnatifid leaves--a
species of _oreodoxia_--others with broad fan-shaped fronds--the
_palmettoes_ of the south; behold magnolias, clumps of the fragrant
illicium, and radiating crowns of the _yucca gloriosa_--all indigenous
to the soil. Another native presents itself to the eye--a huge live-oak
extending its long horizontal boughs, covered thickly with evergreen
coriaceous leaves, and broadly shadowing the grass beneath. Under its
shade behold a beautiful girl, in light summer robes--her hair loosely
coifed with a white kerchief, from the folds of which have escaped long
tresses glittering with the hues of gold. That is my sister Virginia,
my only sister, still younger than myself. Her golden hair bespeaks not
her Indian descent, but in that she takes after our mother. She is
playing with her pets, the doe of the fallow deer, and its pretty
spotted fawn. She is feeding them with the pulp of the sweet orange, of
which they are immoderately fond. Another favourite is by her side, led
by its tiny chain. It is the black fox-squirrel, with glossy coat and
quivering tail. Its eccentric gambols frighten the fawn, causing the
timid creature to start over the ground, and press closer to its mother,
and sometimes to my sister, for protection.
The scene has its accompaniment of music. The golden oriole, whose nest
is among the orange-trees, gives out its liquid song; the mock-bird,
caged in the verandah, repeats the strain with variations. The gay
mimic echoes the red cardinal and the blue jay, both fluttering among
the flowers of the magnolia; it mocks the chatter of the green
paroquets, that are busy with the berries of the tall cypresses down by
the water's edge; at intervals it repeats the wild scream of the Spanish
curlews that wave their silver wings overhead, or the cry of the
tantalus heard from the far islets of the lake. The bark of the dog,
the mewing of the cat, the hinny of mules, the neighing of horses, even
the tones of the human voice, are all imitated by this versatile and
incomparable songster.
The rear of the dwelling presents a different aspect--perhaps not so
bright, though not less cheerful. Here is exhibited a scene of active
life--a picture of the industry of an indigo plantation.
A spacious enclosure, with its "post-and-rail" fence, adjoins the house.
Near the centre of this stands the _piece de resistance_--a grand shed
that covers half an acre of ground, supported upon strong pillars of
wood. Underneath are seen huge oblong vats, hewn from the great trunks
of the cypress. They are ranged in threes, one above the other, and
communicate by means of spigots placed in their ends. In these the
precious plant is macerated, and its cerulean colour extracted.
Beyond are rows of pretty little cottages, uniform in size and shape,
each embowered in its grove of orange-trees, whose ripening fruit and
white wax-like flowers fill the air with perfume. These are the
negro-cabins. Here and there, towering above their roofs in upright
attitude, or bending gently over, is the same noble palm-tree that
ornaments the lawn in front. Other houses appear within the enclosure,
rude structures of hewn logs, with "clap-board" roofs: they are the
stable, the corn-crib, the kitchen--this last communicating with the
main dwelling by a long open gallery, with shingle roof, supported upon
posts of the fragrant red cedar.
Beyond the enclosure stretch wild fields, backed by a dark belt of
cypress forest that shuts out the view of the horizon. These fields
exhibit the staple of cultivation, the precious dye-plant, though other
vegetation appears upon them. There are maize-plants and sweet potatoes
(_Convolvulus batatas_) some rice, and sugar-cane. These are not
intended for commerce, but to provision the establishment.
The indigo is sown in straight rows, with intervals between. The plants
are of different ages, some just bursting through the glebe with leaves
like young trefoil; others full-grown, above two feet in height,
resemble ferns, and exhibit the light-green pinnated leaves which
distinguish most of the _leguminosa_--for the indigo belongs to this
tribe. Some shew their papilionaceous flowers just on the eve of
bursting; but rarely are they permitted to exhibit their full bloom.
Another destiny awaits them; and the hand of the reaper rudely checks
their purple inflorescence.
In the inclosure, and over the indigo-fields, a hundred human forms are
moving; with one or two exceptions, they are all of the African race--
all slaves. They are not all of black skin--scarcely the majority of
them are negroes. There are mulattoes, samboes, and quadroons. Even
some who are of pure African blood are not black, only bronze-coloured;
but with the exception of the "overseer" and the owner of the
plantation, all are slaves. Some are hideously ugly, with thick lips,
low retreating foreheads, flat noses, and ill-formed bodies! others are
well proportioned; and among them are some that might be accounted
good-looking. There are women nearly white--quadroons. Of the latter
are several that are more than good-looking--some even beautiful.
The men are in their work-dresses: loose cotton trousers, with coarse
coloured shirts, and hats of palmetto-leaf. A few display dandyism in
their attire. Some are naked from the waist upwards, their black skins
glistening under the sun like ebony. The women are more gaily arrayed
in striped prints, and heads "toqued" with Madras kerchiefs of brilliant
check. The dresses of some are tasteful and pretty. The turban-like
coiffure renders them picturesque.
Both men and women are alike employed in the business of the
plantation--the manufacture of the indigo. Some cut down the plants
with reaping-hooks, and tie them in bundles; others carry the bundles in
from the fields to the great shed; a few are employed in throwing them
into the upper trough, the "steeper;" while another few are drawing off
and "beating." Some shovel the sediment into the draining-bags, while
others superintend the drying and cutting out. All have their
respective tasks, and all seem alike cheerful in the performance of
them. They laugh, and chatter, and sing; they give back jest for jest;
and scarcely a moment passes that merry voices are not ringing upon the
ear.
And yet these are all slaves--the slaves of my father. He treats them
well; seldom is the lash uplifted: hence the happy mood and cheerful
aspect.
Such pleasant pictures are graven on my memory, sweetly and deeply
impressed. They formed the _mise-en-scene_ of my early life.