dem bars, dar, by de hog-pen, dat runs along by dat fence into de
woods, and dat’ll take you right straight dar.”
“Is you come from Colonel Gillin’s, massa?” asked the wash-woman.
“Yes.”
“Did you see a black man dar, dey calls Tom, sar?”
“Yes.”
“Tom’s my husband, massa; if you’s gwine back dah, wish you’d tell um,
ef you please, sar, dat I wants to see him partiklar; will ou, massa?”
“Yes.”
“Tank you, massa.”
I bowed to the old lady, and, in turning to ride off, saw two other
negro boys who had come out of the woods, and were now leaning over the
fence, and staring at us, as if I were a giant and Jane was a dragoness.
We trotted away, found the path, and in course of a mile had our choice
of at least twenty forks to go “straight to Mrs. Abler’s.” At length,
cleared land again, fences, stubble-fields and a lane, that took us to
a little cabin, which fronted, much to my surprise, upon a broad and
well-travelled road. Over the door of the cabin was a sign, done in
black, upon a hogshead stave, showing that it was a “GROSERY,” which,
in Virginia, means the same thing as in Ireland—a dram-shop.
I hung the bridle over a rack before the door, and walked in. At
one end of the interior was a range of shelves, on which were two
decanters, some dirty tumblers, a box of crackers, a canister, and
several packages in paper; under the shelves a table and a barrel. At
the other end of the room was a fire-place; near this, a chest, and
another range of shelves, on which stood plates and cooking utensils:
between these and the grocery end were a bed and a spinning-wheel.
Near the spinning-wheel sat a tall, bony, sickly, sullen young woman,
nursing a languishing infant. The faculty would not have discouraged
either of them from trying hydropathic practice. In a corner of the
fire-place sat a man, smoking a pipe. He rose, as I entered, walked
across to the grocery-shelves, turned a chair round at the table, and
asked me to take a seat. I excused myself, and requested him to direct
me to Mr. W.’s. He had heard of such a man living somewhere about
there, but he did not know where. He repeated this, with an oath, when
I declined to “take” anything, and added, that he had not lived here
long, and he was sorry he had ever come here. It was the worst job, for
himself, ever he did, when he came here, though all he wanted was to
just get a living.
I rode on till I came to another house, a very pleasant little house,
with a steep, gabled roof, curving at the bottom, and extending over
a little gallery, which was entered, by steps, from the road; back of
it were stables and negro-cabins, and by its side was a small garden,
and beyond that a peach-orchard. As I approached it, a well-dressed
young man, with an intelligent and pleasant face, came out into the
gallery. I asked him if he could direct me to Mr. W.’s. “Thomas W.’s?”
he inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“You are not going in the right direction to go to Mr. W.’s. The
shortest way you can take to go there is, to go right back to the Court
House.”
I told him I had just come out of the lane by the grocery on to the
road. “Ah! well, I’ll tell you; you had better turn round, and keep
right straight upon this road till you get to the Court House, and
anybody can tell you, there, how to go.”
“How far is it, sir?”
“To the Court House?—not above a mile.”
“And to Mr. W.’s?”
“To Mr. W.’s, I should think it was as much as ten miles, and long
ones, too.”
I rode to the Court House, which was a plain brick building in the
centre of a small square, around which there were twenty or thirty
houses, two of them being occupied as stores, one as a saddler’s
shop, one had the sign of “Law Office” upon it; one was a jail; two
were occupied by physicians, one other looked as if it might be a
meeting-house or school-house, or the shop of any mechanic needing much
light for his work, and two were “Hotels.” At one of these we stopped
to dine; Jane had “corn and fodder” (they had no oats or hay in the
stable), and I had ham and eggs (they had no fresh meat in the house).
I had several other things, however, that were very good, besides the
company of the landlady, who sat alone with me, at the table, in a
long, dining hall, and was very pretty, amiable, and talkative.
In a course of apologies, which came in the place of soup, she gave me
the clue to the assemblage of negroes I had seen at the mill. It was
Christmas week; all the servants thought they must go, for at least one
day, to have a frolic, and to-day (as luck would have it, when I was
coming) her cook was off with some others; she did not suppose they’d
be back till to-morrow, and then, likely as not, they’d be drunk. She
did not think this custom, of letting servants go so, at Christmas, was
a good one; niggers were not fit to be let to take care of themselves,
anyhow. It was very bad for them, and she didn’t think it was _right_.
Providence had put the servants into our hands to be looked out for,
and she didn’t believe it was intended they should be let to do all
sorts of wickedness, even if Christmas did come but once a year. She
wished, for her part, it did not come but once in ten years.
(The negroes, that were husking maize near the cabin where the white
man lived, were, no doubt, slaves, who had hired themselves out by
the day, during the holiday-week, to earn a little money on their own
account.)
In regard to the size of the dining-hall, and the extent of sheds in
the stable-yard, the landlady told me that though at other times they
very often did not have a single guest in a day, at “Court time” they
always had more than they could comfortably accommodate. I judged,
also, from her manners and the general appearance of the house, as well
as from the charges, that, at such times, the company might be of a
rather respectable character. The appearance of the other public-house
indicated that it expected a less select patronage.
When I left, my direction was to keep on the main road until I came to
a fork, about four miles distant, then take the left, and keep _the
best-travelled_ road, until I came to a certain house, which was so
described that I should know it, where I was advised to ask further
directions.
The sky was now clouding over; it was growing cold; and we went on,
as fast as we conveniently could, until we reached the fork in the
road. The direction to keep the best-travelled road, was unpleasantly
prominent in my mind; it was near sunset, I reflected, and however
jolly it might be at twelve o’clock at noon, it would be quite another
thing to be knocking about among those fierce hogs in the pine-forest,
if I should be lost, at twelve o’clock at night. Besides, as the
landlady said about her negroes, I did not think it was right to expose
Jane to this danger, unnecessarily. A little beyond the fork, there
was a large, gray, old house, with a grove of tall poplars before it;
a respectable, country-gentleman-of-the-old-school look it had.—These
old Virginians are proverbially hospitable.—It’s rather impudent; but I
hate to go back to the Court House, and I am——I will ride on, and look
it in the face, at any rate.
Zigzag fences up to a large, square yard, growing full of Lombardy
poplar sprouts, from the roots of eight or ten old trees, which were
planted some fifty years ago, I suppose, in a double row, on two sides
of the house. At the further end of this yard, beyond the house, a gate
opened on the road, and out of this was just then coming a black man.
I inquired of him if there was a house, near by, at which I could get
accommodation for the night. Reckoned his master’d take me in, if I’d
ask him. Where was his master? In the house: I could go right in here
(at a place where a panel of the paling had fallen over) and see him if
I wanted to. I asked him to hold my horse, and went in.
It was a simple two-story house, very much like those built by the
wealthier class of people in New England villages, from fifty to a
hundred years ago, except that the chimneys were carried up outside
the walls. There was a porch at the front door, and a small wing at
one end, in the rear: from this wing to the other end extended a broad
gallery.
A dog had been barking at me after I had dismounted; and just as I
reached the steps of the gallery, a vigorous, middle-aged man, with a
rather sullen and suspicious expression of face, came out without any
coat on, to see what had excited him.
Doubting if he were the master of the house, I told him that I had
come in to inquire if it would be convenient to allow me to spend the
night with them. He asked where I came from, where I was going to, and
various other questions, until I had given him an epitome of my day’s
wanderings and adventures; at the conclusion of which he walked to the
end of the gallery to look at my horse; then, without giving me any
answer, but muttering indistinctly something about servants, walked
into the house, shutting the door behind him!
Well, thought I, this is not overwhelmingly hospitable. What can it
mean?
While I was considering whether he expected me to go without any
further talk—his curiosity being, I judged, satisfied—he came out
again, and said, “Reckon you can stay, sir, if you’ll take what we’ll
give you.” (The good man had been in to consult his wife.) I replied
that I would do so thankfully, and hoped they would not give themselves
any unnecessary trouble, or alter their usual family arrangements. I
was then invited to come in, but I preferred to see my horse taken
care of first. My host called for “Sam,” two or three times, and then
said he reckoned all his “people” had gone off, and he would attend to
my horse himself. I offered to assist him, and we walked out to the
gate, where the negro, not being inclined to wait for my return, had
left Jane fastened to a post. Our host conducted us to an old square
log-cabin which had formerly been used for curing tobacco, there being
no room for Jane, he said, in the stables proper.
The floor of the tobacco-house was covered with lumber, old ploughs,
scythes and cradles, a part of which had to be removed to make room
for the filly to stand. She was then induced, with some difficulty, to
enter it through a low, square doorway; saddle and bridle were removed,
and she was fastened in a corner by a piece of old plough-line. We then
went to a fodder-stack, and pulled out from it several small bundles of
maize leaves. Additional feed and water were promised when “some of the
niggers” came in; and, after righting up an old door that had fallen
from one hinge, and setting a rail against it to keep it in its place,
we returned to the house.
My host (whom I will call Mr. Newman) observed that his buildings and
fences were a good deal out of order. He had owned the place but a few
years, and had not had time to make much improvement about the house
yet.
Entering the mansion, he took me to a large room on the first floor,
gave me a chair, went out and soon returned (now wearing a coat) with
two negro girls, one bringing wood and the other some flaming brands.
A fire was made with a great deal of trouble, scolding of the girls,
bringing in more brands, and blowing with the mouth. When the room had
been suffocatingly filled with smoke, and at length a strong bright
blaze swept steadily up the chimney, Mr. Newman again went out with the
girls, and I was left alone for nearly an hour, with one interruption,
when he came in and threw some more wood upon the fire, and said he
hoped I would make myself comfortable.
It was a square room, with a door from the hall on one side, and
two windows on each of the other sides. The lower part of the walls
was wainscoted, and the upper part, with the ceiling, plastered and
whitewashed. The fire-place and mantel-piece were somewhat carved,
and were painted black; all the wood-work lead colour. Blue paper
curtains covered the windows; the floor was uncarpeted, and the only
furniture in the room was some strong plain chairs, painted yellow,
and a Connecticut clock, which did not run. The house had evidently
been built for a family of some wealth, and, after having been deserted
by them, had been bought at a bargain by the present resident, who
either had not the capital or the inclination to furnish and occupy it
appropriately.
When my entertainer called again, he merely opened the door and said,
“Come! get something to eat!” I followed him out into the gallery, and
thence through a door at its end into a room in the wing—a family room,
and a very comfortable homely room. A bountifully spread supper-table
stood in the centre, at which was sitting a very neat, pretty little
woman, of as silent habits as her husband, but neither bashful nor
morose. A very nice little girl sat at her right side, and a peevish,
ill-behaved, whining glutton of a boy at her left. I was requested
to be seated adjoining the little girl, and the master of the house
sat opposite me. The fourth side of the table was unoccupied, though
a plate and chair were placed there, as if some one else had been
expected.
The two negro girls waited at table, and a negro boy was in the room,
who, when I asked for a glass of water, was sent to get it. An old
negro woman also frequently came in from the kitchen, with hot biscuit
and corn-cake. There was fried fowl, and fried bacon and eggs, and cold
ham; there were preserved peaches, and preserved quinces and grapes;
there was hot wheaten biscuit, and hot short-cake, and hot corn-cake,
and hot griddle cakes, soaked in butter; there was coffee, and there
was milk, sour or sweet, whichever I preferred to drink, I really ate
more than I wanted, and extolled the corn-cake and the peach preserve,
and asked how they were made; but I evidently disappointed my pretty
hostess, who said she was afraid there wasn’t anything that suited
me,—she feared there wasn’t anything on the table I could eat; and she
was sorry I couldn’t make out a supper. And this was about all she
would say. I tried to get a conversation started, but could obtain
little more than very laconic answers to my questions.
Except from the little girl at my side, whose confidence I gained by
taking an opportunity, when her mother was engaged with young Hopeful
t’other side the coffee-pot, to give her a great deal of quince and
grape, and by several times pouring molasses very freely on her cakes
and bacon; and finally by feeding Pink out of my hand. (Hopeful had
done this first, and then kicked him away, when he came round to
Martha and me.) She told me her name, and that she had got a kitten,
and that she hated Pink; and that she went to a Sunday-school at the
Court House, and that she was going to go to an every-day school next
winter—she wasn’t big enough to walk so far now, but she would be then.
But Billy said he didn’t mean to go, because he didn’t like to, though
Billy was bigger nor she was, a heap. She reckoned when Billy saw Wash.
Baker going past every day, and heard how much fun he had every day
with the other boys at the school, he would want to go too, wouldn’t
he? etc. etc. When supper was ended, I set back my chair to the wall,
and took her on my knee; but after she had been told twice not to
trouble the gentleman, and I had testified that she didn’t do it, and
after several mild hints that I would perhaps find it pleasanter in the
sitting-room—(the chairs in the supper-room were the easiest, being
country-made, low, and seated with undressed calf-skin), she was called
to, out of the kitchen, and Mr. Newman said—going to the door and
opening it for me—“Reckon you’d better walk into the sittin’-room, sir.”
I walked out at this, and said I would go and look at the filly. Mr.
Newman called “Sam” again, and Sam, having at that moment arrived at
the kitchen door, was ordered to go and take care of this gentleman’s
horse. I followed Sam to the tobacco-house, and gave him to know that
he would be properly remembered for any attentions he could give to
Jane. He watered her, and brought her a large supply of oats in straw,
and some maize on the cob; but he could get no litter, and declared
there was no straw on the plantation, though the next morning I saw a
large quantity in a heap (not a stack), at a little greater distance
than he was willing to go for it, I suppose, at a barn on the opposite
side of the road. Having seen her rubbed clean and apparently well
contented with her quarters and her supper, I bade her good-night, and
returned to the house.
I did not venture again into the supper-room, but went to the
sitting-room, where I found Miss Martha Ann and her kitten; I was
having a good time with her, when her father came in and told her she
was “troubling the gentleman.” I denied it, and he took a seat by the
fire with us, and I soon succeeded in drawing him into a conversation
on farming, and the differences in our methods of work at the North and
those he was accustomed to.
I learned that there were no white labouring men here who hired
themselves out by the month. The poor white people that had to labour
for their living, never would work steadily at any employment. “They
generally followed boating”—hiring as hands on the bateaus that
navigate the small streams and canals, but never for a longer term at
once than a single trip of a boat, whether that might be long or short.
At the end of the trip they were paid by the day. Their wages were
from fifty cents to a dollar, varying with the demand and individual
capacities. They hardly ever worked on farms except in harvest, when
they usually received a dollar a day, sometimes more. In harvest-time,
most of the rural mechanics closed their shops and hired out to the
farmers at a dollar a day, which would indicate that their ordinary
earnings are considerably less than this. At other than harvest-time,
the poor white people, who had no trade, would sometimes work for the
farmers by the job; not often any regular agricultural labour, but at
getting rails or shingles, or clearing land.
He did not know that they were particular about working with negroes,
but no white man would ever do certain kinds of work (such as taking
care of cattle, or getting water or wood to be used in the house);
and if you should ask a white man you had hired, to do such things,
he would get mad and tell you he wasn’t a nigger. Poor white girls
never hired out to do servants’ work, but they would come and help
another white woman about her sewing and quilting, and take wages for
it. But these girls were not very respectable generally, and it was
not agreeable to have them in your house, though there were some very
respectable ladies that would go out to sew. Farmers depended almost
entirely upon their negroes; it was only when they were hard pushed by
their crops, that they ever got white hands to help them.
Negroes had commanded such high wages lately, to work on railroads
and in tobacco-factories, that farmers were tempted to hire out too
many of their people, and to undertake to do too much work with those
they retained; and thus they were often driven to employ white men, and
to give them very high wages by the day, when they found themselves
getting much behind-hand with their crops. He had been driven very hard
in this way this last season; he had been so unfortunate as to lose
one of his best women, who died in child-bed just before harvest. The
loss of the woman and her child, for the child had died also, just at
that time, came very hard upon him. He would not have taken a thousand
dollars of any man’s money for them. He had had to hire white men to
help him, but they were poor sticks, and would be half the time drunk,
and you never know what to depend upon with them. One fellow that he
had hired, who had agreed to work for him all through harvest, got
him to pay him some wages in advance (he said it was to buy him some
clothes with, so that he could go to meeting on Sunday, at the Court
House), and went off the next day, right in the middle of harvest, and
he had never seen him since. He had heard of him—he was on a boat—but
he didn’t reckon he should ever get his money again.
Of course, he did not see how white labourers were ever going to come
into competition with negroes here, at all. You never could depend on
white men, and you couldn’t _drive_ them any; they wouldn’t stand it.
Slaves were the only reliable labourers—you could command them and make
them do what was right.
From the manner in which he talked of the white labouring people, it
was evident that, although he placed them in some sort on an equality
with himself, and that in his intercourse with them he wouldn’t think
of asserting for himself any superior dignity, or even feel himself to
be patronizing them in not doing so, yet he, all the time, recognized
them as a distinct and a rather despicable class, and wanted to have as
little to do with them as he conveniently could.
I have been once or twice told that the poor white people, meaning
those, I suppose, who bring nothing to market to exchange for
money but their labour, although they may own a cabin and a little
furniture, and cultivate land enough to supply themselves with (maize)
bread, are worse off in almost all respects than the slaves. They
are said to be extremely ignorant and immoral, as well as indolent
and unambitious. That their condition is not so unfortunate by any
means as that of negroes, however, is most obvious, since from among
them, men sometimes elevate themselves to positions and habits of
usefulness, and respectability. They are said to “corrupt” the negroes,
and to encourage them to steal, or to work for them at night and on
Sundays, and to pay them with liquor, and also to constantly associate
licentiously with them, They seem, nevertheless, more than any other
portion of the community, to hate and despise the negroes.
In the midst of our conversation, one of the black girls had come into
the room and stood still with her head dropped forward, staring at me
from under her brows, without saying a word. When she had waited, in
this way, perhaps two minutes, her master turned to her and asked what
she wanted.
“Miss Matty says Marta Ann go to bed now.”
But Martha Ann refused to budge; after being told once or twice by
her father to go with Rose, she came to me and lifted up her hands, I
supposed to kiss me and go, but when I reached down, she took hold of
my shoulders and climbed up on to my knees. Her father seemed to take
no notice of this proceeding, but continued talking about guano; Rose
went to a corner of the fire-place, dropped down upon the floor, and
presently was asleep, leaning her head against the wall. In about half
an hour the other negro girl came to the door, when Mr. Newman abruptly
called out, “Girl! take that child to bed!” and immediately got up
himself and walked out. Rose roused herself, and lifted Martha Ann
out of my arms, and carried her off fast asleep. Mr. Newman returned
holding a small candle, and, without entering the room, stood at the
door and said, “I’ll show you your bed if you are ready, sir.” As he
evidently meant, “I am ready to show you to bed if you will not refuse
to go,” I followed him up stairs.
Into a large room, again, with six windows, with a fireplace, in
which a few brands were smoking, with some wool spread thinly upon
the floor in a corner; with a dozen small bundles of tobacco leaves;
with a lady’s saddle; with a deep feather-bed, covered with a bright
patch-work quilt, on a maple bedstead, and without a single item
of any other furniture whatever. Mr. Newman asked if I wanted the
candle to undress by; I said yes, if he pleased, and waited a moment
for him to set it down: as he did not do so, I walked towards him,
lifting my hand to take it. “No—I’ll hold it,” said he, and I then
perceived that he had no candlestick, but held the lean little dip in
his hand: I remembered also that no candle had been brought into the
“sitting-room,” and that while we were at supper only one candle had
stood upon the table, which had been immediately extinguished when we
rose, the room being lighted only from the fire.
I very quickly undressed and hung my clothes upon a bedpost: Mr. Newman
looked on in silence until I had got into bed, when, with an abrupt
“Good-night, sir,” he went out and shut the door.
It was not until after I had consulted Sam the next morning that I
ventured to consider that my entertainment might be taken as a mere
business transaction, and not as “genuine planters hospitality,” though
this had become rather a ridiculous view of it, after a repetition of
the supper, in all respects, had been eaten for breakfast, with equal
moroseness on the part of my host and equal quietness on the part
of his kind-looking little wife. I was, nevertheless, amused at the
promptness with which he replied to my rather hesitating inquiry—what I
might pay him for the trouble I had given him—“I reckon a dollar and a
quarter will be right, sir.”
* * * * *
I have described, perhaps with tedious prolixity, what adventures
befell me, and what scenes I passed through in my first day’s random
riding, for the purpose of giving an idea of the uncultivated and
unimproved—rather, sadly worn and misused—condition of some parts,
and I judge, of a very large part, of all Eastern Virginia, and of
the isolated, lonely, and dissociable aspect of the dwelling-places
of a large part of the people. I subsequently rode for three weeks in
Eastern and Central Virginia, the country differing not very greatly in
its characteristics from that here described.
Much the same general characteristics pervade the Slave States,
everywhere, except in certain rich regions, or on the banks of
some rivers, or in the vicinity of some great routes of travel and
transportation, which have occasioned closer settlement or stimulated
public spirit. For hours and hours one has to ride through the
unlimited, continual, all-shadowing, all-embracing forest, following
roads, in the making of which no more labour has been given than was
necessary to remove the timber which would obstruct the passage of
waggons; and even for days and days he may sometimes travel, and see
never two dwellings of mankind within sight of each other; only, at
long distances, often several miles asunder, these isolated plantation
patriarchates. If a traveller leaves the main road to go any distance,
it is not to be imagined how difficult it is for him to find his way
from one house to any other in particular; his only safety is in the
fact that, unless there are mountains or swamps in the way, he is not
likely to go many miles upon any waggon or horse track without coming
to some white man’s habitation.
* * * * *
The country passed through, in the early part of my second day’s ride,
was very similar in general characteristics to that I have already
described; only that a rather larger portion of it was cleared, and
plantations were more frequent. About eleven o’clock I crossed a bridge
and came to the meeting-house I had been expecting to reach by that
hour the previous day. It was in the midst of the woods, and the small
clearing around it was still dotted with the stumps of the trees out
of whose trunks it had been built; for it was a log structure. In one
end there was a single square port, closed by a sliding shutter; in the
other end were two doors, both standing open. In front of the doors,
a rude scaffolding had been made of poles and saplings, extending out
twenty feet from the wall of the house, and this had been covered
with boughs of trees, the leaves now withered; a few benches, made of
split trunks of trees slightly hewn with the axe, were arranged under
this arbour, as if the religious service was sometimes conducted on
the outside in preference to the interior of the edifice. Looking in,
I saw that a gallery or loft extended from over the doors, across
about one-third the length of the house, access to which was had by a
ladder. At the opposite end was a square unpainted pulpit, and on the
floor were rows of rude benches. The house was sufficiently lighted by
crevices between the upper logs.
Half an hour after this I arrived at the negro-quarters—a little
hamlet of ten or twelve small and dilapidated cabins. Just beyond
them was a plain farm-gate, at which several negroes were standing:
one of them, a well-made man, with an intelligent countenance and
prompt manner, directed me how to find my way to his owner’s house.
It was still nearly a mile distant; and yet, until I arrived in its
immediate vicinity, I saw no cultivated field, and but one clearing. In
the edge of this clearing, a number of negroes, male and female, lay
stretched out upon the ground near a small smoking charcoal pit. Their
master afterwards informed me that they were burning charcoal for the
plantation blacksmith, using the time allowed them for holidays—from
Christmas to New Year’s Day—to earn a little money for themselves
in this way. He paid them by the bushel for it. When I said that I
supposed he allowed them to take what wood they chose for this purpose,
he replied that he had five hundred acres covered with wood, which he
would be very glad to have any one burn, or clear off in any way.
Mr. W.’s house was an old family mansion, which he had himself
remodelled “in the Grecian style,” and furnished with a large wooden
portico. An oak forest had originally occupied the ground where
it stood; but this having been cleared and the soil worn out in
cultivation by the previous proprietors, pine woods now surrounded
it in every direction, a square of a few acres only being kept clear
immediately about it. A number of the old oaks still stood in the rear
of the house, and, until Mr. W. commenced “his improvements,” there
had been some in its front. But as he deemed these to have an aspect
of negligence and rudeness, not quite proper to be associated with
a fine house, he had cut them away, and substituted formal rows of
miserable little ailanthus trees. I could not believe my ears till this
explanation had been twice repeated to me.
On three sides of the outer part of the cleared square, which was
called “the lawn,” but which was no more like a lawn than it was like
a sea-beach, there was a row of negro-cabins, stables, tobacco-houses,
and other offices, all built of rough logs.
Mr. W. was one of the few large planters of his vicinity who still
made the culture of tobacco their principal business. He said there
was a general prejudice against tobacco, in all the tide-water region
of the State, because it was through the culture of tobacco that the
once fertile soils had been impoverished; but he did not believe that,
at the present value of negroes, their labour could be applied to the
culture of grain, with any profit, except under peculiarly favourable
circumstances. Possibly, the use of guano might make wheat a paying
crop, but he still doubted. He had not used it, himself. Tobacco
required fresh land, and was rapidly exhausting, but it returned more
money, for the labour used upon it, than anything else; enough more,
in his opinion, to pay for the wearing out of the land. If he was well
paid for it, he did not know why he should not wear out his land.
His tobacco-fields were nearly all in a distant and lower part of his
plantation; land which had been neglected before his time, in a great
measure, because it had been sometimes flooded, and was, much of the
year, too wet for cultivation. He was draining and clearing it, and it
now brought good crops.
He had had an Irish gang draining for him, by contract. He thought a
negro could do twice as much work, in a day, as an Irishman. He had
not stood over them and seen them at work, but judged entirely from
the amount they accomplished: he thought a good gang of negroes would
have got on twice as fast. He was sure they must have “trifled” a great
deal, or they would have accomplished more than they had. He complained
much, also, of their sprees and quarrels. I asked why he should employ
Irishmen, in preference to doing the work with his own hands. “Its
dangerous work [unhealthy?], and a negro’s life is too valuable to be
risked at it. If a negro dies, it’s a considerable loss, you know.”
He afterwards said that his negroes never worked so hard as to tire
themselves—always were lively, and ready to go off on a frolic at
night. He did not think they ever did half a fair days work. They could
not be made to work hard: they never would lay out their strength
freely, and it was impossible to make them do it.
This is just what I have thought when I have seen slaves at work—they
seem to go through the motions of labour without putting strength into
them. They keep their powers in reserve for their own use at night,
perhaps.
Mr. W. also said that he cultivated only the coarser and lower-priced
sorts of tobacco, because the finer sorts required more painstaking and
discretion than it was possible to make a large gang of negroes use.
“You can make a nigger work,” he said, “but you cannot make him think.”
Although Mr. W. was so wealthy (or, at least, would be considered
anywhere at the North), and had been at college, his style of living
was very farmer-like, and thoroughly Southern. On their plantations,
generally, the Virginia gentlemen seem to drop their full dress and
constrained town habits, and to live a free, rustic, shooting-jacket
life. We dined in a room that extended out, rearwardly, from the house,
and which, in a Northern establishment, would have been the kitchen.
The cooking was done in a detached log-cabin, and the dishes brought
some distance, through the open air, by the servants. The outer door
was left constantly open, though there was a fire in an enormous
old fire-place, large enough, if it could have been distributed
sufficiently, to have lasted a New York seamstress the best part of
the winter. By the door there was indiscriminate admittance to negro
children and fox-hounds, and, on an average, there were four of these,
grinning or licking their chops, on either side of my chair, all
the time I was at the table. A stout woman acted as head waitress,
employing two handsome little mulatto boys as her aids in communicating
with the kitchen, from which relays of hot corn-bread, of an excellence
quite new to me, were brought at frequent intervals. There was no other
bread, and but one vegetable served—sweet potato, roasted in ashes,
and this, I thought, was the best sweet potato, also, that I ever had
eaten; but there were four preparations of swine’s flesh, besides fried
fowls, fried eggs, cold roast turkey, and opossum, cooked, I know not
how, but it somewhat resembled baked sucking-pig. The only beverages on
the table were milk and whisky.
I was pressed to stay several days with Mr. W., and should have been
glad to do so, had not another engagement prevented. When I was about
to leave, an old servant was directed to get a horse, and go with me,
as guide, to the railroad station at Col. Gillin’s. He followed behind
me, and I had great difficulty in inducing him to ride near enough to
converse with me. I wished to ascertain from him how old the different
stages of the old-field forest-growth, by the side of our road,
might be; but for a long time, he was, or pretended to be, unable to
comprehend my questions. When he did so, the most accurate information
he could give me was, that he reckoned such a field (in which the
pines were now some sixty feet high) had been planted with tobacco the
year his old master bought him. He thought he was about twenty years
old then, and that now he was forty. He had every appearance of being
seventy.
He frequently told me there was no need for him to go any further, and
that it was a dead straight road to the station, without any forks. As
he appeared very eager to return, I was at length foolish enough to
allow myself to be prevailed upon to dispense with his guidance; gave
him a quarter of a dollar for his time that I had employed, and went on
alone. The road, which for a short distance further was plain enough,
soon began to ramify, and, in half an hour, we were stumbling along
a dark wood-path, looking eagerly for a house. At length, seeing one
across a large clearing, we went through a long lane, opening gates and
letting down bars, until we met two negroes, riding a mule, who were
going to the plantation near the school-house which we had seen the day
before. Following them thither, we knew the rest of the way (Jane gave
a bound and neighed, when we struck the old road, showing that she had
been lost, as well as I, up to the moment).
It was twenty minutes after the hour given in the timetable for the
passage of the train, when I reached the station, but it had not
arrived; nor did it make its appearance for a quarter of an hour
longer; so I had plenty of time to deliver Tom’s wife’s message and
take leave of Jane. I am sorry to say she appeared very indifferent,
and seemed to think a good deal more of Tom than of me. Mr. W. had
told me that the train would, probably, be half an hour behind its
advertised time, and that I had no need to ride with haste, to reach
it. I asked Col. Gillin if it would be safe to always calculate on the
train being half an hour late: he said it would not; for, although
usually that much behind the timetable, it was sometimes half an hour
ahead of it. So those, who would be safe, had commonly to wait an hour.
People, therefore, who wished to go not more than twenty miles from
home, would find it more convenient, and equally expeditious, taking
all things into account, to go in their own conveyances—there being but
few who lived so near the station that they would not have to employ a
horse and servant to get to it.
* * * * *
——. ——. I have been visiting a farm, cultivated entirely by free
labour. The proprietor told me that he was first led to disuse
slave-labour, not from any economical considerations, but because he
had become convinced that there was an essential wrong in holding men
in forced servitude with any other purpose than to benefit them alone,
and because he was not willing to allow his own children to be educated
as slave-masters. His father had been a large slaveholder, and he felt
very strongly the bad influence it had had on his own character. He
wished me to be satisfied that Jefferson uttered a great truth when he
asserted that slavery was more pernicious to the white race than the
black. Although, therefore, a chief part of his inheritance had been in
slaves, he had liberated them all.
Most of them had, by his advice, gone to Africa. These he had
frequently heard from. Except a child that had been drowned, they
were, at his last account, all alive, in general good health, and
satisfactorily prospering. He had lately received a letter from one of
them, who told him that he was “_trying_ to preach the Gospel,” and who
had evidently greatly improved, both intellectually and morally, since
he left here. With regard to those going North, and the common opinion
that they encountered much misery, and would be much better off here,
he said that it entirely depended on the general character and habits
of the individual: it was true of those who were badly brought up,
and who had acquired indolent and vicious habits, especially if they
were drunkards, but, if of some intelligence and well trained, they
generally represented themselves to be successful and contented.
He mentioned two remarkable cases, that had come under his own
observation, of this kind. One was that of a man who had been free,
but, by some fraud and informality of his papers, was re-enslaved.
He ran away, and afterwards negotiated, by correspondence, with his
master, and purchased his freedom. This man he had accidentally met,
fifteen years afterwards, in a Northern city; he was engaged in
profitable and increasing business, and showed him, by his books, that
he was possessed of property to the amount of ten thousand dollars. He
was living a great deal more comfortably and wisely than ever his old
master had done. The other case was that of a coloured woman, who had
obtained her freedom, and who became apprehensive that she also was
about to be fraudulently made a slave again. She fled to Philadelphia,
where she was nearly starved, at first. A little girl, who heard her
begging in the streets to be allowed to work for bread, told her that
her mother was wanting some washing done, and she followed her home.
The mother, not knowing her, was afraid to trust her with the articles
to be washed. She prayed so earnestly for the job, however—suggesting
that she might be locked into a room until she had completed it—that it
was given her.
So she commenced life in Philadelphia. Ten years afterwards he had
accidentally met her there; she recognized him immediately, recalled
herself to his recollection, manifested the greatest joy at seeing
him, and asked him to come to her house, which he found a handsome
three-story building, furnished really with elegance; and she pointed
out to him, from the window, three houses in the vicinity that she
owned and rented. She showed great anxiety to have her children well
educated, and was employing the best instructors for them which she
could procure in Philadelphia.
He considered the condition of slaves to have much improved since
the Revolution, and very perceptibly during the last twenty years.
The original stock of slaves, the imported Africans, he observed,
probably required to be governed with much greater severity, and very
little humanity was exercised or thought of with regard to them. The
slaves of the present day are of a higher character; in fact, he did
not think more than half of them were full-blooded Africans. Public
sentiment condemned the man who treated his slaves with cruelty.
The owners were mainly men of some cultivation, and felt a family
attachment to their slaves, many of whom had been the playmates of
their boyhood. Nevertheless, they were frequently punished severely,
under the impulse of temporary passion, often without deliberation, and
on unfounded suspicion. This was especially the case where they were
left to overseers, who, though sometimes men of intelligence and piety,
were more often coarse, brutal, and licentious; drinking men, wholly
unfitted for the responsibility imposed on them.
With regard to the value of slave-labour, this gentleman is confident
that, at present, he has the advantage in employing free men instead
of it. It has not been so until of late, the price of slaves having
much advanced within ten years, while immigration has made free white
labourers more easy to be procured.
He has heretofore had some difficulty in obtaining hands when he
needed them, and has suffered a good deal from the demoralizing
influence of adjacent slave-labour, the men, after a few months’
residence, inclining to follow the customs of the slaves with regard to
the amount of work they should do in a day, or their careless mode of
operation. He has had white and black Virginians, sometimes Germans,
and latterly Irish. Of all these, he has found the Irish on the whole
the best. The poorest have been the native white Virginians; next,
the free blacks: and though there have been exceptions, he has not
generally paid these as high as one hundred dollars a year, and has
thought them less worth their wages than any he has had. At present, he
has two white natives and two free coloured men, but both the latter
were brought up in his family, and are worth twenty dollars a year more
than the average. The free black, he thinks, is generally worse than
the slave, and so is the poor white man. He also employs, at present,
four Irish hands, and is expecting two more to arrive, who have been
recommended to him, and sent for by those he has. He pays the Irishmen
$120 a year, and boards them. He has had them for $100; but these are
all excellent men, and well worth their price. They are less given to
drinking than any men he has ever had; and one of them first suggested
improvements to him in his farm, that he is now carrying out with
prospects of considerable advantage. Housemaids, Irish girls, he pays
$3 and $6 a month.
He does not apprehend that in future he shall have any difficulty
in obtaining steady men, who will accomplish much more work than any
slaves. There are some operations, such as carting and spreading dung,
and all work with the fork, spade, or shovel, at which his Irishmen
will do, he thinks, over fifty per cent. more in a day than any negroes
he has ever known. On the whole, he is satisfied that at present
free-labour is more profitable than slave-labour, though his success is
not so evident that he would be willing to have attention particularly
called to it. His farm, moreover, is now in a transition state from one
system of husbandry to another, and appearances are temporarily more
unfavourable on that account.
The wages paid for slaves, when they are hired for agricultural labour,
do not differ at present, he says, from those which he pays for his
free labourers. In both cases the hiring party boards the labourer,
but, in addition to money and board, the slave-employer has to furnish
clothing, and is subject, without redress, to any losses which may
result from the carelessness or malevolence of the slave. He also has
to lose his time if he is unwell, or when from any cause he is absent
or unable to work.
The slave, if he is indisposed to work, and especially if he is not
treated well, or does not like the master who has hired him, will sham
sickness—even make himself sick or lame—that he need not work. But a
more serious loss frequently arises, when the slave, thinking he is
worked too hard, or being angered by punishment or unkind treatment,
“getting the sulks,” takes to “the swamp,” and comes back when he
has a mind to. Often this will not be till the year is up for which
he is engaged, when he will return to his owner, who, glad to find
his property safe, and that it has not died in the swamp, or gone to
Canada, forgets to punish him, and immediately sends him for another
year to a new master.
“But, meanwhile, how does the negro support life in the swamp?” I asked.
“Oh, he gets sheep and pigs and calves, and fowls and turkeys;
sometimes they will kill a small cow. We have often seen the fires,
where they were cooking them, through the woods, in the swamp yonder.
If it is cold, he will crawl under a fodder-stack, or go into the
cabins with some of the other negroes, and in the same way, you see, he
can get all the corn, or almost anything else he wants.
“He steals them from his master?”
“From any one; frequently from me. I have had many a sheep taken by
them.”
“It is a common thing, then?”
“Certainly, it is, very common, and the loss is sometimes exceedingly
provoking. One of my neighbours here was going to build, and hired two
mechanics for a year. Just as he was ready to put his house up, the two
men, taking offence at something, both ran away, and did not come back
at all till their year was out, and then their owner immediately hired
them out again to another man.”
These negroes “in the swamp,” he said, were often hunted after, but it
was very difficult to find them, and, if caught, they would run again,
and the other negroes would hide and assist them. Dogs to track them he
had never known to be used in Virginia.
* * * * *
_Saturday, Dec. 25th._—From Christmas to New-Year’s Day, most of
the slaves, except house servants, enjoy a freedom from labour; and
Christmas is especially holiday, or Saturnalia, with them. The young
ones began last night firing crackers, and I do not observe that they
are engaged in any other amusement to-day; the older ones are generally
getting drunk, and making business for the police. I have seen large
gangs coming in from the country, and these contrast much in their
general appearance with the town negroes. The latter are dressed
expensively, and frequently more elegantly than the whites. They seem
to be spending money freely, and I observe that they, and even the
slaves that wait upon me at the hotel, often have watches, and other
articles of value.
The slaves have a good many ways of obtaining “spending money,” which
though in law belonging to their owner, as the property of a son under
age does to his father, they are never dispossessed of, and use for
their own gratification, with even less restraint than a wholesome
regard for their health and moral condition may be thought to require.
A Richmond paper, complaining of the liberty allowed to slaves in this
respect, as calculated to foster an insubordinate spirit, speaks of
their “champagne suppers.” The police broke into a gambling cellar a
few nights since, and found about twenty negroes at “high play,” with
all the usual accessories of a first-class “Hell.” It is mentioned
that, among the number taken to the watch-house, and treated with
lashes the next morning, there were some who had previously enjoyed
a high reputation for piety, and others of a very elegant or foppish
appearance.
Passing two negroes in the street, I heard the following:
“——Workin’ in a tobacco factory all de year roun’, an’ come Christmas
only twenty dollars! Workin’ mighty hard, too—up to twelve o’clock o’
night very often—an’ then to hab a nigger oberseah!”
“A nigger!”
“Yes—dat’s it, yer see. Wouldn’t care if ’twarn’t for dat. Nothin’ but
a dirty nigger! orderin’ ’round, jes’ as if he was a wite man!”
It is the custom of tobacco manufacturers to hire slaves and free
negroes at a certain rate of wages per year. A task of 45 lbs. per day
is given them to work up, and all that they choose to do more than this
they are paid for—payment being made once a fortnight; and invariably
this over-wages is used by the slave for himself, and is usually spent
in drinking, licentiousness, and gambling. The man was grumbling that
he had saved but $20 to spend at the holidays.
Sitting with a company of smokers last night, one of them, to show me
the manner in which a slave of any ingenuity or cunning would manage to
avoid working for his master’s profit, narrated the following anecdote.
He was executor of an estate in which, among other negroes, there was
one very smart man, who, he knew perfectly well, ought to be earning
for the estate $150 a year, and who could do it if he chose, yet whose
wages for a year, being let out by the day or job, had amounted to but
$18, while he had paid for medical attendance upon him $45. Having
failed in every other way to make him earn anything, he proposed to him
that he should purchase his freedom and go to Philadelphia, where he
had a brother. He told him that if he would earn a certain sum ($400 I
believe), and pay it over to the estate for himself, he would give him
his free papers. The man agreed to the arrangement, and by his overwork
in a tobacco factory, and some assistance from his free brother, soon
paid the sum agreed upon, and was sent to Philadelphia. A few weeks
afterwards he met him in the street, and asked him why he had returned.
“Oh, I don’t like dat Philadelphy, massa; an’t no chance for coloured
folks dere; spec’ if I’d been a runaway, de wite folks dere take care
o’ me; but I couldn’t git anythin’ to do, so I jis borrow ten dollar of
my broder, and cum back to old Virginny.”
“But you know the law forbids your return. I wonder that you are not
afraid to be seen here; I should think Mr. —— [an officer of police]
would take you up.”
“Oh! I look out for dat, massa; I juss hire myself out to Mr. ——
himself, ha! ha! He tink I your boy.”
And so it proved; the officer, thinking that he was permitted to hire
himself out, and tempted by the low wages at which he offered himself,
had neglected to ask for his written permission, and had engaged
him for a year. He still lived with the officer, and was an active,
healthy, good servant to him.
A well-informed capitalist and slave-holder remarked, that negroes
could not be employed in cotton factories. I said that I understood
they were so in Charleston, and some other places at the South.
“It may be so, yet,” he answered, “but they will have to give it up.”
The reason was, he said, that the negro could never be trained to
exercise judgment; he cannot be made to use his mind; he always depends
on machinery doing its own work, and cannot be made to watch it. He
neglects it until something is broken or there is great waste. “We
have tried rewards and punishments, but it makes no difference. It’s
his nature and you cannot change it. All men are indolent and have a
disinclination to labour, but this is a great deal stronger in the
African race than in any other. In working niggers, we must always
calculate that they will not labour at all except to avoid punishment,
and they will never do more than just enough to save themselves from
being punished, and no amount of punishment will prevent their working
carelessly and indifferently. It always seems on the plantation as if
they took pains to break all the tools and spoil all the cattle that
they possibly can, even when they know they’ll be directly punished for
it.”
As to rewards, he said, “They only want to support life: they will not
work for anything more; and in this country it would be hard to prevent
their getting that.” I thought this opinion of the power of rewards was
not exactly confirmed by the narrative we had just heard, but I said
nothing. “If you could move,” he continued, “all the white people from
the whole seaboard district of Virginia and give it up to the negroes
that are on it now, just leave them to themselves, in ten years’ time
there would not be an acre of land cultivated, and nothing would be
produced, except what grew spontaneously.”
[The Hon. Willoughby Newton, by the way, seems to think that if it had
not been for the introduction of guano, a similar desolation would have
soon occurred without the Africanization of the country. He is reported
to have said:—
[“I look upon the introduction of guano, and the success attending
its application to our barren lands, in the light of a special
interposition of Divine Providence, to save the northern neck of
Virginia from reverting entirely into its former state of wilderness
and utter desolation. Until the discovery of guano—more valuable
to us than the mines of California—I looked upon the possibility
of renovating our soil, of ever bringing it to a point capable of
producing remunerating crops, as utterly hopeless. Our up-lands were
all worn out, and our bottom-lands fast failing, and if it had not
been for guano, to revive our last hope, a few years more and the
whole country must have been deserted by all who desired to increase
their own wealth, or advance the cause of civilization by a proper
cultivation of the earth.”]
I said I supposed that they were much better off, more improved
intellectually, and more kindly treated in Virginia than further South.
He said I was mistaken in both respects—that in Louisiana, especially,
they were more intelligent, because the amalgamation of the races
was much greater, and they were treated with more familiarity by the
whites; besides which, the laws of Louisiana were much more favourable
to them. For instance, they required the planter to give slaves 200
pounds of pork a year: and he gave a very apt anecdote, showing the
effect of this law, but which, at the same time, made it evident that
a Virginian may be accustomed to neglect providing sufficient food
for his force, and that they sometimes suffer greatly for want of it.
I was assured, however, that this was very rare—that, generally, the
slaves were well provided for—always allowed a sufficient quantity of
meal, and, generally, of pork—were permitted to raise pigs and poultry,
and in summer could always grow as many vegetables as they wanted. It
was observed, however, that they frequently neglect to provide for
themselves in this way, and live mainly on meal and bacon. If a man
does not provide well for his slaves, it soon becomes known; he gets
the name of a “nigger killer,” and loses the respect of the community.
The general allowance of food was thought to be a peck and a half of
meal, and three pounds of bacon a week. This, it was observed, is as
much meal as they can eat, but they would be glad to have more bacon;
sometimes they receive four pounds, but it is oftener that they get
less than three. It is distributed to them on Saturday nights; or, on
the better managed plantations, sometimes on Wednesday, to prevent
their using it extravagantly, or selling it for whisky on Sunday. This
distribution is called the “drawing,” and is made by the overseer to
all the heads of families or single negroes. Except on the smallest
plantations, where the cooking is done in the house of the proprietor,
there is a cook-house, furnished with a large copper for boiling, and
an oven. Every night the negroes take their “mess,” for the next day’s
breakfast and dinner, to the cook, to be prepared for the next day.
Custom varies as to the time it is served out to them; sometimes at
morning and noon, at other times at noon and night. Each negro marks
his meat by cuts, so that he shall know it from the rest, and they
observe each other’s rights with regard to this, punctiliously.
After breakfast has been eaten early in the cabins, at sunrise, or a
little before in winter, and perhaps a little later in summer, they go
to the field. At noon dinner is brought to them, and, unless the work
presses, they are allowed two hours’ rest. Very punctually at sunset
they stop work and are at liberty, except that a squad is detached once
a week for shelling corn, to go to the mill for the next week’s drawing
of meal. Thus they work in the field about eleven hours a day, on an
average. Returning to the cabins, wood “ought to have been” carted for
them; but if it has not been, they then go the woods and “tote” it
home for themselves. They then make a fire—a big, blazing fire at this
season, for the supply of fuel is unlimited—and cook their own supper,
which will be a bit of bacon fried, often with eggs, corn-bread baked
in the spider after the bacon, to absorb the fat, and perhaps some
sweet potatoes roasted in the ashes. Immediately after supper they go
to sleep, often lying on the floor or a bench in preference to a bed.
About two o’clock they very generally rouse up and cook and eat, or
eat cold, what they call their “mornin’ bit;” then sleep again till
breakfast. They generally save from their ration of meal: commonly as
much as five bushels of meal was sent to town by my informant’s hands
every week, to be sold for them. Upon inquiry, he almost always found
that it belonged to only two or three individuals, who had traded
for it with the rest; he added, that too often the exchange was for
whisky, which, against his rules, they obtained of some rascally white
people in the neighbourhood, and kept concealed. They were very fond of
whisky, and sometimes much injured themselves with it.
To show me how well they were supplied with eggs, he said that once a
vessel came to anchor, becalmed, off his place, and the captain came
to him and asked leave to purchase some eggs of his people. He gave
him permission, and called the cook to collect them for him. The cook
asked how many she should bring. “Oh, all you can get,” he answered—and
she returned after a time, with several boys assisting her, bringing
nearly two bushels, all the property of the slaves, and which they were
willing to sell at four cents a dozen.
One of the smokers explained to me that it is bad economy, not to allow
an abundant supply of food to “a man’s force.” If not well provided
for, the negroes will find a way to provide for themselves. It is,
also, but simple policy to have them well lodged and clothed. If they
do not have comfortable cabins and sufficient clothing, they will take
cold, and be laid up. He lost a valuable negro, once, from having
neglected to provide him with shoes.
The houses of the slaves are usually log-cabins, of various degrees
of comfort and commodiousness. At one end there is a great open
fire-place, which is exterior to the wall of the house, being made
of clay in an inclosure, about eight feet square and high, of logs.
The chimney is sometimes of brick, but more commonly of lath or split
sticks, laid up like log work and plastered with mud. They enjoy great
roaring fires, and, as the common fuel is pine, the cabin, at night
when the door is open, seen from a distance, appears like a fierce
furnace. The chimneys often catch fire, and the cabin is destroyed.
Very little precaution can be taken against this danger.[16] Several
cabins are placed near together, and they are called “the quarters.”
On a plantation of moderate size there will be but one “quarters.” The
situation chosen for it has reference to convenience of obtaining water
from springs and fuel from the woods.
As to the clothing of the slaves on the plantations, they are said
to be usually furnished by their owners or masters, every year, each
with a coat and trousers, of a coarse woollen or woollen and cotton
stuff (mostly made, especially for this purpose, in Providence, R. I.)
for winter, trousers of cotton osnaburghs for summer, sometimes with
a jacket also of the same; two pairs of strong shoes, or one pair of
strong boots and one of lighter shoes for harvest; three shirts, one
blanket, and one felt hat.
The women have two dresses of striped cotton, three shifts, two pairs
of shoes, etc. The women lying-in are kept at knitting short sacks,
from cotton, which, in Southern Virginia, is usually raised for this
purpose on the farm, and these are also given to the negroes. They
also purchase clothing for themselves, and, I notice especially, are
well supplied with handkerchiefs, which the men frequently, and the
women nearly always, wear on their heads. On Sundays and holidays they
usually look very smart, but when at work, very ragged and slovenly.
At the conclusion of our bar-room session, some time after midnight,
as we were retiring to our rooms, our progress up stairs and along the
corridors was several times impeded, by negroes lying fast asleep, in
their usual clothes only, upon the floor. I asked why they were not
abed, and was answered by a gentleman, that negroes never wanted to go
to bed; they always preferred to sleep on the floor.
That “slaves are liars,” or, as they say here, “niggers will lie,”
always has been proverbial. “They will lie in their very prayers to
God,” said one, and I find illustrations of the trouble that the
vice occasions on every hand here. I just heard this, from a lady.
A housemaid, who had the reputation of being especially devout, was
suspected by her mistress of having stolen from her bureau several
trinkets. She was charged with the theft, and vociferously denied it.
She was watched, and the articles discovered openly displayed on her
person as she went to church. She still, on her return, denied having
them—was searched, and they were found in her pockets. When reproached
by her mistress, and lectured on the wickedness of lying and stealing,
she replied with the confident air of knowing the ground she stood
upon, “Law, mam, don’t say I’s wicked; ole Aunt Ann says it allers
right for us poor coloured people to ’popiate whatever of de wite
folk’s blessins de Lord puts in our way;” old Aunt Ann being a sort of
mother in the coloured Israel of the town.
It is told me as a singular fact, that everywhere on the plantations,
the agrarian notion has become a fixed point of the negro system of
ethics: that the result of labour belongs of right to the labourer, and
on this ground, even the religious feel justified in using “massa’s”
property for their own temporal benefit. This they term “taking,” and
it is never admitted to be a reproach to a man among them that he
is charged with it, though “stealing,” or taking from another than
their master, and particularly from one another, is so. They almost
universally pilfer from the household stores when they have a safe
opportunity.
Jefferson says of the slaves:
“Whether further observation will or will not verify the
conjecture, that nature has been less bountiful to them in the
endowments of the head, I believe that in those of the heart she
will have done them justice. That disposition to theft, with which
they have been branded, must be ascribed to their situation,
and not to any depravity of the moral sense. The man in whose
favour no laws of property exist, probably feels himself less
bound to respect those made in favour of others. When arguing for
ourselves, we lay it down as fundamental, that laws, to be just,
must give a reciprocation of right; that without this, they are
mere arbitrary rules, founded in force, and not in conscience;
and it is a problem which I give to the master to solve, whether
the religious precepts against the violation of property were not
framed for him as well as his slave? and whether the slave may
not as justifiably take a little from one who has taken all from
him, as he may slay one who would slay him? That a change of the
relations in which a man is placed should change his ideas of
moral right and wrong, is neither new, nor peculiar to the colour
of the blacks. Homer tells us it was so, 2,600 years ago:
“‘Jove fixed it certain, that whatever day
Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.’”