Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://books.google.com/books?id=xK8BAAAAQAAJ&dq
(Oxford University)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
THE
OLD DOMINION.
BY
G. P. R. JAMES
LONDON.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS LIMITED.
MDCCCCIII.
[Illustration: Logo]
_The Introduction is written by_ LAURIE MAGNUS, M.A.; _the Title-page is
designed by_ IVOR I. J. SYMES.
The Old Dominion
or
A Tale of Virginia
INTRODUCTION.
George Payne Rainsford James, Historiographer Royal to King William IV.,
was born in London in the first year of the nineteenth century, and
died at Venice in 1860. His comparatively short life was exceptionally
full and active. He was historian, politician and traveller, the
reputed author of upwards of a hundred novels, the compiler and editor
of nearly half as many volumes of letters, memoirs, and biographies, a
poet and a pamphleteer, and, during the last ten years of his life,
British Consul successively in Massachusetts, Norfolk (Virginia), and
Venice. He was on terms of friendship with most of the eminent men of
his day. Scott, on whose style he founded his own, encouraged him to
persevere in his career as a novelist; Washington Irving admired him,
and Walter Savage Landor composed an epitaph to his memory. He
achieved the distinction of being twice burlesqued by Thackeray, and
two columns are devoted to an account of him in the new "Dictionary of
National Biography." Each generation follows its own gods, and G. P.
R. James was, perhaps, too prolific an author to maintain the
popularity which made him "in some ways the most successful novelist
of his time." But his work bears selection and revival. It possesses
the qualities of seriousness and interest; his best historical novels
are faithful in setting and free in movement. His narrative is clear,
his history conscientious, and his plots are well-conceived. English
learning and literature are enriched by the work of this writer, who
made vivid every epoch in the world's history by the charm of his
romance.
Picking up a novel by the historical novelist G. P. R. James, with
Virginia as subject and "The Old Dominion" for title, one inevitably
expects a romance about Elizabethan adventures and noble savages,
something after the manner of Fenimore Cooper, with an air of greater
antiquity. What, then, is our surprise to find that the veteran
romancer has given us a novel of recent history, with facetious
sketches of Yankee oddities, a plot based on a legal _imbroglio_, and
a painstaking study of that perennial problem, the negro question.
"The Old Dominion" is, in fact, James's "American Notes" and "Martin
Chuzzlewit," though the portraiture is altogether kindly, and the
satire of the mildest kind. He has observed the life and manners of
the country where he resided as British Consul with the same minute
care as that which he lavishes on his historical studies. Without
Dickens's virulent and entertaining comedy, the picture of life in
Virginia in the thirties is probably far truer because of this
scrupulous accuracy, and because of the moderation and patient
endeavour to decide justly upon disputed points. Years before "Uncle
Tom's Cabin," James gave the English public this thoughtful picture of
slavery. He is not one-sided. He rather discloses at once the evils of
slavery and the difficulties of emancipation in a purely imaginative
way without pleading strongly for a remedy. He shows powerfully what a
terrible retribution has been brought upon the land by those who
introduced slavery. The negro's insane ferocity when freed from
control, and the peril of a small white population at the mercy of a
host of revolted slaves, are brought out in the history of the negro
insurrection, which is traced from its origin in the preaching of
McGrubber and the misguided brooding of Nat Turner, down to its
repression. The hero and heroine and the love romance, with its
profusion of obstacles to happiness, are the familiar ones, with a
modern instead of a medi[ae]val environment. But the vivacity of the
style is quite unusual. Mr. Byles is epigrammatic with his three
distinctions between the North and the South. "In the South they fight
duels whenever they can, have slaves for their servants, and grow
tobacco and corn. In New England they never fight if they can help it,
are slaves to their own servants, and make wooden clocks and wooden
nutmegs." And our serious romancer even ventures on a broad joke quite
frequently.
THE OLD DOMINION.
CHAPTER I.
I wrote to you, my dear sister, from the pretty little town of
Baltimore; and I hope you have received my letter. Although this so
speedily follows it, my only motives for writing are, to occupy idle
time, and to relieve your mind from apprehension regarding my safety
during my passage through all the terrors of Chesapeake Bay: "that
long and dreadful inlet," as you call it, "in which uncle Richard was
shipwrecked twenty or thirty years ago." Believe me, all these dangers
are imaginary. This Chesapeake Bay is a very calm, pleasant sheet of
water, which may have its storms sometimes; but, sheltered from the
full force of the ocean by what is called the eastern shore, has no
terrors after passing the Atlantic.
I have not even a single adventure to tell. Everything passed with
provoking tranquillity; and I must needs eke out my letter by any
little observations, borrowed from my journal, which I fancy may amuse
you.
I think I told you that I had engaged a passage to Norfolk in the
schooner _Mary Anne_. I believe half the ships in the world are called
"Mary Anne;" and, doubtless, it is a very safe sort of name. There is
nothing to be said against it; and, indeed, my skipper assured me that
he had never known a vessel of that name to be lost. However, if
odours produce sympathies, the _Mary Anne_ would soon find her way
down amongst the fishes; for a more potent smell of herring never
assailed my nose than when I entered the said vessel. I had not been
on board previous to the hour of sailing, having taken my passage
through our agent; and, certainly, I was somewhat disappointed at the
accommodation presented, which had been previously depicted in very
glowing colours, but proved somewhat cramped, and in no degree
savoury. Always take a steam-boat when you can, my dear sister--for a
short life and a merry one, is a good axiom at sea; and although
steamers may rattle, and smoke, and shake, they generally carry you to
your destination sooner, more pleasantly, and more safely too, than a
sailing vessel.
Well--we started from our wharf about half-past two o'clock on Tuesday
afternoon; and I remained upon deck to take a last look at Baltimore,
which I quitted with some regret. It is a smaller city than New York,
but cleaner, neater, and, I should think, more healthy. Besides, I had
met some very pleasant and kind people there; and civilities which
would not affect one much in one's own country, touch one in a foreign
land. When ties and old affections are left behind, courtesies and
civilities are the best substitutes.
The wind was quite favourable, the master assured me; and there was
just enough of it to ripple the water, and make the ship go quietly
on, without producing any rebellion of stomach or refractoriness of
legs. I remained upon deck till it was quite dark, and more than one
little star looked out with eager, twinkling eyes, as if it feared it
should not have time enough to behold its own image in the waters
before the sun rose and sent it to bed again. I then went below, and
found the little cabin, round which our berths were placed, already
tenanted by two gentlemen, who had never appeared upon the deck since
I first reached it, and who were consuming time and brandy and water
very nearly in silence. Whether they had been thus employed for the
preceding six or seven hours, I know not; and how much of the spirit
they had drunk it was impossible to discover, for they certainly were
not tipsy, and the brandy itself was entombed in a vast bottle, called
here a demijohn, so curiously concealed in wickerwork, that it is
impossible for the keenest eyes to discover whether it is full or
empty.
Both were well dressed men, but very different in appearance from each
other. I must venture upon some description, my dear sister, as our
ideas of the Yankee race in England are very unlike the realities
which we see before us in this country. I remember hearing a wealthy,
respectable, foolish, ignorant woman, of a class such as frequently
forces its way into society with us at home, deliberately ask an
American, whom she knew to be such, whether all the natives of America
were salmon-coloured. She had, doubtless, heard of red Indians; and, I
suppose, with that brilliant confusion of ideas which trouble the
brains of some ladies, had confounded our brethren on this side of the
Atlantic, with the aborigines of the country.
However, my two companions on the present occasion, though one was not
of American or Anglo-Saxon race, had nothing of the Indian about them.
One was a thin, spare, but well-formed man, about three and thirty
years of age, who, from dress or appearance altogether, no one would
have distinguished from an Englishman, had it not been for a certain
jaunty, well satisfied, self-reliant air not altogether consistent
with our staid and more sober character of thought. His face was by no
means handsome, God knows. His eyes were somewhat protuberant, round,
and sparkling; his nose was short, thickish, and a little tinged with
red, which might have some affinity with the contents of the demijohn
I have just mentioned. His upper lip was shaded by a thick,
Austrian-cut moustache; his chin was prominent and decided; but his
forehead was bold, high, and towering, and by far the finest feature
of his face.
The other seemed rather overdressed--certainly over dressed for a
sea-voyage; but his face was actually much handsomer than that of his
companion, and presented the peculiar character which marks, in almost
every instance, Jewish descent; for he had large, almond shaped, dark
eyes, an aquiline nose, a delicate mouth and chin, and a profusion of
glossy black hair, floating in small, light curls about his head. His
complexion was warm, but delicate; and, altogether, he was a very
handsome man. But he wanted that air of Oriental calmness and dignity
which you and I have often remarked in many members of his race. This
I attribute greatly to the profession which I afterwards found he
followed; the debasing tendencies of which I can conceive no man's
spirit resisting. He had three diamond rings on one finger, and a
large brilliant in the frill of his shirt; and, indeed, it seemed to
me there was no part of his person on which he could stick such an
ornament, that was not garnished by some precious stone.
It was quite clear that no great cordiality existed between these two
tenants of the cabin, although they were drinking out of the same
demijohn, if not out of the same cup. As soon as I entered, the
last-mentioned passenger asked me, in Virginian parlance, "to take a
drink." I have learnt the habits of the country sufficiently to know
that it is discourteous to refuse; and I was immediately provided with
a tumbler and cold water, to which I added some of the brandy.
When I had sipped a small quantity of the mixture, the first passenger
I have mentioned broke out in a short, quick, merry laugh, and
observed, in a quaint tone, that the skipper had failed to provide us
with mint--a usual accessory to brandy and water in this country. With
him I soon got into conversation, and found him a well read, liberally
educated man of the world, with very free notions upon a great number
of subjects, a taste for the arts, and a tolerable store of Greek and
Latin.
The other was more difficult to engage, and indeed the task seemed
hopeless for some time; till, at length, the master of the vessel
joined us, and then I found out that our friend with the diamond rings
had points upon which he was accessible also.
After helping himself pretty liberally to the brandy and water, the
captain looked with a shrewd, good-humoured smile in the face of the
over-dressed gentleman, saying--
"Well, Mr. Lewis, do you hope to do a good business this summer?"
"I don't know, captain," answered the other. "I want you to tell me a
little bit of what's going on." Then, dropping his voice, he said in a
sort of whisper which prevented my hearing the close of the sentence,
"I hear they are going to sell up Mr.----"
"So they say," replied the captain, rather gravely, and with a sort of
sigh. "I am very sorry for him, poor fellow. He was quite a gentleman;
only too fond of those cursed cards. However, he has got a pretty
stock in hand, and I guess they'll go high."
"Do you know what they are?" asked the other.
"I don't know them all," replied the master; "but there's some fifty
of them; and five or six of them--Bill especially, and Anthony, are as
good hands as ever worked in these parts."
"Well the market is not very high in Orl_ee_ns," replied Mr. Lewis;
"it's quite glutted, I hear; and fifty are hardly worth buying. Are
there no more to be had about?"
"Why I hear Mr. Thornton wants to sell, up in Southampton county, not
far from Jerusalem," was the captain's answer. "I can't tell what he's
been about. He neither drinks nor gambles, nor fights cocks, nor
anything; and yet he has contrived to muddle away all his money, and
his plantation is mortgaged as high as it will go."
The other paused upon this, and seemed to consider it with much
satisfaction.
In the meantime I had arrived at the conclusion that good Mr. Lewis
was neither more nor less than a slave-dealer; and, taking but little
interest in the subjects discussed, I walked up the companion-ladder
to the deck again, to spend an hour or so beneath the stars, before I
went to bed. The cabin was oppressively warm; the night sultry beyond
description; and I felt sure that I could not sleep without inhaling
some fresh air before I lay down. I was inclined to meditate upon many
things with which it is no use troubling you, my dear sister, as they
arose out of the conversation I had just heard, which deserved more
calm consideration than I have yet had time to give them.
I had hardly reached the deck, however, when I was joined by the
first-mentioned of my fellow travellers, who, fixing at once, as
usual, upon the most obvious topic, observed that it was a beautiful
night. I agreed with him simply, and he then went on to say--
"It is much pleasanter up here than down below. The cabin is very hot,
and that brute of a slave-dealer makes it still hotter."
"I have heard," I replied, "that you Virginian gentlemen hold these
slave-dealers in great horror and contempt."
"First, let me tell you I am not a Virginian," responded he; "but I
can answer as well as if I were. The slave-dealer is looked upon here,
and all through the South, as a necessary nuisance. He is tolerated,
and that is all; but there are very few cases in which that
toleration is carried so far as to sit in the same room with him. At
an ordinary, on board a ship, or in a stage coach, men are obliged to
do it; and sometimes--for 'misery makes us acquainted with strange
bed-fellows'--when a gentleman owes one of them a good round sum of
money which he can't pay, he will not only put his legs under the
mahogany with him, but drink with him across the table. _Hic et
ubique_--it is the same thing. I have seen men drink with a
money-lender in your country--which I presume is England--and I am
quite certain that if a rattlesnake had a side pocket, and we could
get in debt to him, and we should pull off our hats and be as civil to
the reptile as possible."
He ended with one of his sharp, short laughs; and, taking a cigar case
out of his pocket, offered me a very delicious Havanah. The
conversation went on much in the same style for some time; and at
length the captain came up and joined us, telling us that Mr. Lewis
had turned in.
"Well, that's satisfactory," replied my fellow passenger; "for though
one must sometimes be in close companionship with a snake, one does
not always like to hear him hissing. As soon as I am sure he's asleep,
I'll go down and turn in too."
By this time we had got so far into the bay that those beautiful sea
anemonies, as they are called, or _medus[ae]_, were flashing past the
ship in every direction, looking like the lamps which the Hindoo women
are said to send floating on the Ganges. I made some observation upon
them to my companion, and he replied somewhat in the words of Sir
Henry Wotton:
"As if the heaven let fall
Its lesser stars upon the earth."
"But I think the wind is going to change, captain," resumed he. "Don't
you see that haze over there?"
"I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Wheatley," answered the master of the vessel;
"and if it does, it will blow pretty stiff."
These hints determined me to go down once more to the cabin, and take
possession of my berth, although the scene from the deck was very
beautiful: the stars shining, still, bright, and clear above; the
faint outline of the Virginian coast upon our right; the waters of the
bay heaving gently under us, gemmed with phosphorescent light, and
innumerable white sails gliding along in the same direction with
ourselves, some near and some far off, but all, like the beautiful
phantoms that pass by us on the wide sea of human life, deriving
much of their charm from imagination and indistinctness. But the
horror of sea-sickness--that most unimaginative and unpoetical of all
maladies--made me anxious to get to sleep before it fixed its fangs
upon me.
Accordingly, I was soon in the little den allotted to me, which was
certainly less comfortable, and not much more spacious, than a coffin.
Some fatigue, however, and the late hour to which I had sat up at Mr.
E----'s, on the preceding night, brought slumber to my eyes before the
wind changed or the gale began to blow. I suspect we were tossed
pretty well during the night; but nothing awoke me till day had long
dawned. By this time the sea was tolerably calm again, but the breeze
not quite so favourable as it had been before; and it was not till
yesterday afternoon that we rounded Cape Charles, and entered what is
called Hampton Roads. Thenceforward the wind was very fair, and we had
no difficulty in making our way to this place.
I cannot say that the scenery we passed was very beautiful; yet I do
not think I was ever more charmed or struck by anything affecting
merely the sight, than I was with the glorious sunset of that evening,
as we sailed up the Elizabeth River.
In the morning, some clouds had been in the sky; about midday they had
thickened and grown darker; and the weatherwise predicted a storm.
But, just as those who pretend to the most philosophical knowledge of
human nature are generally the most ignorant of men, so the
weatherwise, I have remarked, are the most ignorant of the weather.
Before three o'clock every cloud had vanished; floating vapour might
be here and there, but it was so thin that the eye could not even
discern its shadow on the blue, and it was not till the sun nearly
touched the horizon that a thin, golden line, brighter than the rest,
showed that there was something to catch and reflect the rays. On the
right hand and the left, were piney points, with deep bays and
indentations between, but with hardly a house visible; though now and
then some blue smoke curled up from amongst the trees, near narrow
creeks or little rivers opening their mouths into the wider stream, on
which hardly a sail was seen to float, and where merely a canoe with a
black man quietly dangling his line over the side, gave human vitality
to the aspect of the waters. Beyond, towered up dense and lofty
forests, massed in the shades of evening, with a sort of light haze
resting upon them, and thus leaving a sort of mysterious flatness over
the surface. You could see that they were green, yet the tint was
curiously indefinite, approaching black in some places, and showing
brighter colours in others; but beyond all, to the west, rose up the
most gorgeous sky I ever beheld, of a burning fiery yellow towards the
horizon, a broad orange glow above, and thence passing gradually into
pink and purple, as the rays of the setting sun reached his zenith.
To us, indeed, the sun was already set; for he was hidden by the trees
and the gentle slopes of the land to the westward; but that he was not
yet below the verge of earth, could be plainly perceived; for every
here and there along the shores, where a deep creek or cove wandered
up into the woods, his rays could be seen, as it were a path of light,
reflected from the surface of the waters. At the mouth of two of these
creeks, standing long-legged in the midst of the blaze, I perceived a
party of storks or cranes, finding their evening meal on some shoal of
the river. But the absence of all traces of civilized man; the
glorious sunset; the dim woods; the calm, dull, unexpectant attitude
of the storks; the width of the river; the sea-like motion of the
waves; the solitary negro fishing from his canoe--all gave a strange,
solemn, sublime aspect to the scene, and I could not help figuring to
myself that such must have been the appearance of the country as it
presented itself to the eyes of the first settlers here, who were
amongst the earliest of those who visited the North American
continent, when first their venturous barques approached these shores.
What bold and hardy fellows they must have been! How unimpressible and
resolute! I declare the sight of that sunset made me feel a kind of
awe; and I do believe that, had I been amongst them, the solitude and
the grandeur would have had a sort of sacredness in it to my mind,
which would have induced me to turn the prow homeward, and leave the
holiness of nature unprofaned.
They were not such tempers, however; and some of the results of their
persevering and dauntless spirit of adventure were soon visible in the
houses and wharves of Norfolk, looking black and ragged upon the sky,
with masts, and sails, and columns of smoke, and boats flitting across
and across the river, and the steamboat which I had disdained, lying
puffing out her hot breath, and singing no very melodious song.
I must say that the external view of the city is much more pleasant
than the internal. From the water, on whose bosom it seems to rest,
the very ruggedness and irregularity of the outline--especially in the
magnifying atmosphere of twilight--give it a picturesqueness, and even
a grandeur, which the interior wofully belies. The streets are narrow,
irregular, ill kept, and full of the most unpleasant odours. At every
crossing you stumble over a dead dog or cat. The air, too, is redolent
of stale and salted fish and tobacco; and the part of the town nearest
to the river seems a happy compound of Wapping and Billingsgate, while
the ear is regaled with violent peels of Negro laughter, mingled
occasionally with all the riches of the Irish brogue.
"Negro laughter!" you may exclaim. Yes, my dear sister! Whatever you
may think, these poor, unhappy people, as we are taught to believe
them, laugh all day long with such merry and joyous peals, that it is
impossible to believe that the iron of which we are told, is pressing
very deeply into their souls. At all events, I am quite sure it does
not affect their diaphragms. I think I shall establish it as a good
comparison to say, "as merry as a negro slave."
Even in their solitary moments, too, there seems to be no brooding
discontent about them. They are talking continually to themselves, and
their soliloquies seem full of fun--at least, if we may believe the
merry laughs excited by what they themselves are saying. This morning,
I followed down to the very extreme end of the town an old negro, who,
though he was somewhat lame in one leg, seemed very agile and
vigorous. There was something about the man that caught my fancy; for
though he was very plainly dressed, in a sort of frieze jacket and a
pair of blue linen trousers, he was very clean: his white wool looked
respectable, and his black skin shone like ebony. His occupation, at
the time, was the humble one of carrying a large dead pig upon his
back. These people are a curious study to me, having seen so little of
them, and having received but a one-sided view of their character and
of their treatment. So I watched him along the way, keeping a little
behind, and on one side of him. Some distance down the street, at a
house with a little garden before it, a huge monkey, with a face
horridly human, was sitting, chained to a tree, eating what seemed to
me a potato. The negro stopped, with the pig still upon his back, and
gazed thoughtfully at the monkey for a moment or two. The brute
grinned and chattered at the man, and held up his doubled fist in
rather a pugilistic attitude. The negro grinned, and said aloud--"Ah,
massa Jacko, you damn like old folks!" And on he marched upon his way.
I must explain to you that "old folks," in negro parlance, means,
generally, the mother and father of the speaker.
At the further part of the town, where a rough paling encircled a
piece of ground intended to be built upon, my black friend stopped,
and deliberately unshouldered his pig, setting him up on his hind feet
against the boards. But he could not be without his joke, even at his
mute companion. Indeed, this race seems to have a poetical way of
animating everything. "Ah, massa piggy." he said, "I carried you long
way; you look mighty stiff. I damn tired too. So we both rest
ourselves."
As we were now at the outskirts of the town, and as I was afraid of
losing myself if I went further, I turned back to my inn, which is
tolerably comfortable, although a poor looking place enough. It is
called the Exchange Hotel; and there you had better write to me, as
when I go onward, I shall request my very civil landlady to forward
all letters to me by the speediest conveyance.
You may ask why I do not go onward at once, and get through my
business in the interior without delay; but the fact is I am waiting
for letters from Mr. Griffith of New York, who, having seen me in
England, can identify me here. He only can prove that I am the
veritable Simon Pure, and make clear my title to the property which
our good aunt has left me. I expected these letters in Baltimore; but,
in regard to some of the institutions, I wanted to see and examine,
especially that of slavery, Baltimore is neither fish, flesh, nor red
herring. It is in a slaveholding State; but so close to the free
States, that slavery there is little more than a name. It presented
itself to my mind there in no other way than to make me wonder that
the gentlemen and ladies of such a nice town were so fond of black
servants, which you know is not generally the case in England. I
therefore came on to Virginia, where the slave system is in full
force, and directed the letters to follow me. As soon as they arrive,
I shall proceed into Southampton County; and if it be possible to
remain incog. in this most inquisitive of all countries, I shall
quietly inspect Aunt Bab's lands and tenements, and make every
necessary inquiry before I disclose who I am. What I shall do with the
property, I do not know. It is not necessary to me. I have enough
without; and may perhaps abandon it altogether.
I hear you exclaim, my dear Kate, "You will of course emancipate the
slaves!" And you will be horrified when I reply, "I do not know." But
be assured I will do what, on mature reflection and personal
observation, I judge to be the best for them. No motive of sordid
interest will have any effect upon me, or could ever induce me to keep
my fellow man in bondage. But I confess my preconceived opinions have
been very much shaken by what I myself have seen, even during my short
stay here, and by the comparisons which my mind has unconsciously
instituted between the condition of the negro in the free states and
in the slave-holding communities. In the former, he is decidedly a
sad, gloomy, ay, an ill-treated man, subject to more of the painful
restrictions of caste than I could have conceived possible. Here, he
appears to be a cheerful, light-hearted, guileless, childlike
creature, treated with perfect familiarity, and as far as I have seen,
with kindness. Whether this be a reality or merely a semblance, I
shall know hereafter; but, depend upon it, I will not act till I _do_
know.
I must close my letter, for my fellow passenger, Mr. Wheatley, has
just come to call upon me, and I have surely written enough for one
day.
Write soon if you would have your letter reach me, as there is nothing
more uncertain than the length or shortness of the stay of
Your affectionate Brother.
P.S.--This Mr. Wheatley, who has just left me, is certainly a very
amusing man. I cannot tell much about his principles; and he seems to
vent his scoffs and jests at everything. But he has a good deal of
originality of thought, no bad conceit of himself, and some very
strong and fixed opinions, springing rather, I suspect, from the
suggestions of his own mind than from anything which has been
instilled into him by others. He always seems to set out from the
beginning of things; and then flies along his chain of deductions like
an electric current, skipping a few links here and there, I doubt not,
and getting on to another chain which leads him far away. But with men
whom I may never meet again, I have got into a way of amusing myself
with their characters, rather than combating their arguments. I was
never born for an apostle; and I do not think, if I had the power of
depriving men of their opinions or even of their prejudices, I should
do much good to myself, or them, or society. Indeed, I have come to
the conclusion, that the great bulk of men's prejudices is part of
their property, which we have no right to take from them. We may tax
them to a certain extent for the benefit of society, but we must prove
that benefit before we make it our plea; and the rest we have no right
to meddle with at all. The self-conceited desire to do so, is the
origin of all fanaticism and of the host of evils to which it gives
rise.
P.S. No. 2.--Eleven o'clock Friday night.--I have just made a funny
sort of acquaintance with my friend the negro pig-carrier. In going
out about two hours ago, I heard a loud dispute at the foot of the
stairs, and found another fellow as black as himself abusing no other
person than Mr. Zedekiah Jones; for such is his euphonious name. I did
not stop to listen; but one vituperative epithet was applied to him by
his opponent, which I never should have expected to hear addressed by
one negro to another. "You're a damn'd black free nigger!" cried the
little scrubby fellow who was contending with him.
"You're black as I am," retorted Zedekiah, "and nigger too. I could'nt
help being free. Ole massa 'mancipate me whether I like or no."
The accusation and excuse were strangely characteristic; and a few
minutes ago old Zedekiah came up to my room to ask if I had any boots
or shoes to clean. It seems he is a sort of supernumerary shoeblack,
or porter of the house. I shall get something of his history from him
to-morrow, for he appears to be a good kind of merry creature; but, it
being late to-night, I satisfied myself with obtaining his name.
No letter has come yet, so I shall have to stay here another day.