CHAPTER XIII.
Among other early recollections is a visit with my mother to the plantation of a favorite cousin, not far from Richmond, and one of the handsomest seats on the James River. This residence—Howard's Neck[15]—was a favorite resort for people from Richmond and the adjacent counties, and, like many others on the river, always full of guests; a round of visiting and dinner parties being kept up from one house to another, so that the ladies presiding over these establishments had no time to attend to domestic duties, which were left to their housekeepers while they were employed entertaining visitors.
The negroes on these estates appeared lively and happy—that is, if singing and laughing indicate happiness; for they went to their work in the fields singing, and returned in the evening singing, after which they often spent the whole night visiting from one plantation to another, or dancing until day to the music of the banjo or "fiddle." These dances were wild and boisterous, their evolutions being like those of the savage dances described by travelers in Africa. Although the most perfect timists, their music, with its wild, melancholy cadence, half savage, half civilized, cannot be imitated or described. Many a midnight were we wakened by their wild choruses, sung as they returned from a frolic or "corn-shucking," sounding at first like some hideous, savage yell, but dying away on the air, echoing a cadence melancholy and indescribable, with a peculiar pathos, and yet without melody or sweetness.
Corn-shuckings were occasions of great hilarity and good eating. The negroes from various plantations assembled at night around a huge pile of corn. Selecting one of their number—usually the most original and amusing, and possessed of the loudest voice—they called him "captain." The captain seated himself on top of the pile—a large lightwood torch burning in front of him, and, while he shucked, improvised words and music to a wild "recitative," the chorus of which was caught up by the army of shuckers around. The glare of the torches on the black faces, with the wild music and impromptu words, made a scene curious even to us who were so accustomed to it.
After the corn was shucked they assembled around a table laden with roasted pigs, mutton, beef, hams, cakes, pies, coffee, and other substantials—many participating in the supper who had not in the work. The laughing and merriment continued until one or two o'clock in the morning.
On these James River plantations distinguished foreigners were often entertained, who, visiting Richmond, desired to see something of Virginia country life. Mr. Thackeray was once a guest at one of these places, but Dickens never visited them. Could he have passed a month at any one of the homes I have described, he would, I am sure, have written something more flattering of Americans and American life than is found in "Martin Chuzzlewit" and "American Notes." However, with these we should not quarrel, as some of the sketches, especially the one on "tobacco-chewers," we can recognize.
Every nation has a right to its prejudices—certainly the English people have such a right as regards America, this country appearing to the English eye like a huge mushroom, the growth of a night, and unsubstantial. But it is surely wrong to censure a whole nation—as some have done the Southern people—for the faults of a few. Although the right of a nation to its prejudices be admitted, no one has a right, without thorough examination and acquaintance with the subject, to publish as facts the exaggerated accounts of another nation, put forth by its enemies. The world in this way receives very erroneous impressions.
For instance, we have no right to suppose the Germans a cruel race because of the following paragraph clipped from a recent newspaper: