STRATHMORE; or, WroughT BY HIS OWN HAND. A LIFE ROMANCE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "GRANVILLE DE VIGNE" AN ARTIST'S STUDY IN THE QUARTIER LATIN NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE NEGROES OF THE SOUTH.* It is impossible to defend slavery as an institution. The ownership of a human being from birth until death, and the power of sale over his body, or of the transfer of a right in a fellow-creature's existence, are so abhorrent to every principle of humanity, and so opposed to the great basis of Christianity, that no argument in its favour will bear a moment's consideration. But since the institution does exist, and the opposition brought about by its existence has involved civil war, and has overwhelmed, in all probability for ever, the great principle by which the United States held together-the separate sovereignty of each state-it is well to know what that institution really is, in order to form, in the first place, a correct notion of what is the condition of the slave; in the second, to understand the chief influences affecting the belligerent parties; and, thirdly, to be enabled to form an opinion as to the future downfal of the institution. It is quite certain that, carried away by a just prejudice against slavery, there is no state of society in the world that has been so grossly misrepresented and so grievously misunderstood as that which exists in the Southern States. Those writers who, during the last few years, have flooded the book mart with sensation tales of slavery, have, it has been justly remarked, injured the cause which they, no doubt, sincerely thought to serve. Horrible scenes have undeniably occurred in the Slave States, as in other countries; but let any upright reader judge whether it would be a fair representation of English society to collect from a year's, or even a week's, newspapers the terrible list of crimes and sufferings, and, concentrating them in one volume, to send it forth to the world, saying, "Such is England." We gladly avail ourselves, then, of the experiences of a lady who, as a governess, lived in the bosom of different families in different states in the South, and who was thrown into the mixed society of town, camp, and boarding-house during the trying times that preceded secession, and the still more stirring and eventful episodes that followed upon open hostilities. A residence in various homes of the Southern States, indeed, afforded the author-who writes under, we suppose, the pseudonym of Miss Sarah Jones-opportunities of becoming acquainted with traits of character and domestic manners which could never have met the eye of the mere wayfarer, and which at once rivet the attention, as conveying a *Life in the South; from the Commencement of the War. In Two Vols. Chapman and Hall. 1863. May-VOL. CXXVIII. NO. DIX. B true picture, not only of the condition of the slave, but also of the social condition of the slaveholder, and, consequently, of the reaction of one upon the other. Our author's first home in the South was at Dr. W.'s, Forest Rill, a plantation in the neighbourhood of Fredericksburg, on the Rappahannock, and the family one of the F. F. V.s, or fine old Virginian families, who suddenly became transformed, on seceding from the North, into "brutes" and "tyrants" in the eyes of their enemies. It was here she first became acquainted with the natural and graceful dignity of character and deportment, and with the simple and unostentatious kindness and hospitality of the descendants of the old families in Virginia, as also with the "uncles" and "aunts" (for mister and mistress are titles never applied to negroes), and with the innumerable "Topsies"— their progeny. The negroes, growing up as they do in the same family, call its members, however old, by their christian name. Even a grandfather is "old Master Harry, or Willy," and the ladies are always "Miss Molly," or "Miss Sue." They were Master Willy and Miss Sue when children, and marriage does not change them in the eyes of the old servants. The scene on arrival at this first home in the South is peculiarly characteristic: દ Several little Topsies and Carlos came running down to the gate on seeing the carriage approach, the younger ones climbing upon it for a swing, and to peep in at the windows to greet "Mi' Cinta" with a grin; setting off again for another run back to the house, where they all stood round the door with eyes and mouth agape to stare at the new comer. They are soon dispersed by an elderly negress, very black, and very ugly, but dressed with extreme neatness, even to the gay yellow turban which covered her wool with the exception of two stray locks on the temples, which were unmercifully braided into two stiff tails, and left to hang in imitation of ringlets. We enter a large hall which ran entirely through the house, opening into rooms on either side, and with a large open door opposite the entrance. The yellow turbaned dame is accosted as Aunt Ailsey," who curtseys to me, and takes my parasol, &c., which she gives to one of the Topsies to carry up-stairs. The Doctor has already arrived before us, and meets us with another welcome to me, hoping I have enjoyed the ride to Forest Rill. Mrs. W. proposed to conduct me up to my chamber, whither we were followed by the "aunt" and several negro children, leaving Cinta screaming after one of the Topsies, who were all too intent on their observations of the stranger to think of their young mistress's claims on their attention. "Aunt Ailsey" again drives them off, sending one for wood and another for water, and a third is to tell somebody to come and "build" a fire. Mrs. W. invites me to feel at home and ask for what I require, and appoints the eldest Topsy to be my especial waiting-maid. On leaving the room she said supper would soon be ready, and no doubt a cup of tea would prove very refreshing. Immediately appears another negro woman, with three or four huge logs of wood upon her head and a lighted stick in her hand, followed by Topsy No. 1, with a great basket of "chips," also poised without holding upon her head; Topsy No. 2, with an apron full of "corn cobs," and Topsy No. 3, with a pitcher of fresh water, also on her head. The woman dropped a curtsey, with "How'dy, missus ?" which salutation, not comprehending, I could only nod in return. She tumbled the logs on to the capacious hearth, and knelt down before it to arrange them upon the andirons, the two assistant Topsies squatting down on each side of her to get rid of their burdens, and then fix their great black eyes again on me, as if they had no other business on earth to occupy them. The log fire, aided by the contents of basket and apron, soon sent its roaring flames and sparks half up the chimney, and lighted up the room quite pleasantly, for it was only the beginning of April, and the evenings are the more chilly after the mid-day warmth of the sun in that latitude. Mrs. W. and Cinta reappeared to see if there was a good fire, and hope I had all I wished. They said the trunks would arrive in about an hour. The ladies expressed no surprise to see the invasion of negroes in my apartment, neither were the Topsies at all abashed by their presence, and continued their undisturbed study of my physiognomy; but Aunt Ailsey's ingenuity was put to the test to find errands to get rid of them, for they reappeared so quickly, each time opening the door without rapping or ceremony, and resuming their places on each side of the fire. The eldest Topsy's name proved to be Flora, and as night came on, this dark flower showing no signs of departing, her new mistress ventured to observe that she had better go to bed. "Missus done said I was to sleep heah, ef you'd want me to." "Sleep here, child! Where?" "I gits my blanket, an lies down afore de fire." "Oh no! I do not want you, you may go." So she raised herself from before the fire, where she had been leisurely squatting, and departed, grinning as she went, and displaying two splendid rows of teeth. She stopped at the door to say, "Does ye please want any fin mo' ?" and then curtseyed, adding, "Good night, mum." Next day, we have a visit to the garden and poultry-yard. When they sallied forth they were followed by three or four negro children, who ran towards them at the sight of "Mi' Cinta." Miss Cinta patted the head of one she called "Jim," saying he was the youngest child and pet of Aunt Ailsey. Topsy No. 2, was found to be his elder sister Sally, Cinta's little waiting-maid, who followed with the keys of the hen-houses and food for chickens, while some younger woolly heads were toddling in the rear. A want of finish and untidiness about the yard and buildings, and that amid signs of wealth and abundant labour, for in every direction negroes were to be seen, not only men and women working in the fields, but children, whose business appeared to consist in waiting on the elder ones, otherwise in doing nothing, was one of the first, as it is the most constant, characteristic of slave labour. As they passed these people they greeted Miss Cinta thus, "Oh, Mi' Cinta, how'dy?" meant for "how do you do?" and the common salutation of both white and black throughout the South. Cinta greeted them all with a nod and smile, calling them by name, and stopping to speak to one or two to inquire after a child or parent, when they invariably offered their hand for a shake. This, to any one who is familiar with the treatment of the black in the Free States, or who has studied "Uncle Toms" and "Topsies" in the pages or orations of the Beecher Stowes, will appear a startling amount of intimacy, and a great extent of consideration; yet is it one of the invariable characteristics of the relations between the slaveholder and his slave. When the doctor spoke of his slaves, he did not so designate them -he called them "his people." They, on their side, addressed their master thus: "Massa Fred, hab you done got me dem nails to fix dat ar fence ?" "Massa Fred, I wants you to git me a new saw nex time you goes to Richmun', dis eah wone do nohow." Why, Cæsar, what have you done to wear it out so quickly?" "Whew! Massa Fred." And some excuse would follow, as if to persuade the "massa" of his unreasonableness. Many of these replies and arguments sounded to the new comer very much like impudence, but the doctor did not appear to regard them as such, and surprised our author by the calmness with which he tolerated the seeming impertinences. She could not "realise" that all these leisurely, slouching, argumentative negroes were slaves, nor that the easy-tempered, courteous gentleman who was addressed by them could be a slaveholder. A word, however, sufficed to break the spell. They were passing a pretty-looking mulatto girl in field costume, who curtseyed with a smiling, trustful look, and the usual "How'dy, Mi' Cinta." “That's Rosa,” said Cinta. "Grandpa gave her and her two sisters to me when I was ten years old, and I am going to take Rosa into the house to have her taught different kinds of needlework, and be my own maid." The words " gave her to me" fell upon sensitive ears, whilst equally discerning eyes also saw that Rosa looked proud and happy at the idea of her promised promotion. All these Uncle Toms, Aunt Ailseys, and Topsies had their cabins, each detached, having a pigsty and hen-house, and patches or gardens, and some with rough porches, with vines or flowers creeping over them; but otherwise the spaces were vacant, trampled, or littered with rubbish. The young children were left in the care of one or two elder ones, or an old negress at her spinning-wheel. During this first walk a great deal of shaking of hands had to be gone through, the negroes offering the new comer a welcome, as if, she remarked, it were as much their business as their master's to make her feel at home, but possibly also equally to avail themselves of a privilege granted to them. Our author returned to her home, after this first walk, with " an immense dread off her mind" that no 66 very harrowing scenes" were likely to endanger her position in the slaveholder's family. Owing to the extent of farms or plantations, some estates being from three hundred to three thousand or more acres, neighbours in Virginia are few and far between; yet the greatest amount of sociability prevails, and distance is scarcely regarded in making visits, and all the families are described as distinguished by the same mild, courteous, and cordial manners that characterised the W.s. The manners of the negroes upon these visits were also just the same everywhere. Thus, at Oakfield— Colonel Harry W., the doctor's brother's-the hall door is opened by an old white-headed but very black negro, iron-black by contrast with his silvery wool: "Why, Mis' 'Liza"-addressing Mrs. W.-"ye's quite a stranger,' shaking hands with the lady. "An' how's you, Mis' Cinta?" who also shook hands. "An' how's Massa Fred?" 66 Quite well, Uncle Cassius; how are you?" "Well, I thank'ee, marm. An' be's ye come to stop wid us now, Mis' Cinta? Ye han't been heah dis long time. An' how be you, mistis ?" continued the "Uncle," with a deferential bow to Miss Jones, followed by the shake of a hand, which that delicate person declares to have felt very much like iron. Uncle Cassius was attended by a little boy, of a pale |