Still we could not realize what she said, for we had never seen a beggar. But from that time it began to dawn upon us that all the world was not a plantation, with more than enough on it for people to eat. And when we were old enough to read and compare our surroundings with what we learned about other countries, we found that our laboring population was more bountifully supplied than that of any other land. We read about “myriads of poor, starving creatures, with pinched faces and tattered garments,” in far off cities and countries. We read of hundreds who, from destitution and wretchedness, committed suicide. We read these things, but could not fully sympathise with such want and suffering; for it is necessary to witness these in order to feel the fullest sympathy, and we had never seen anything of the kind on our own or our neighbor’s plantations.
Their religious instruction, I found, had not been more neglected than among the lower classes in England, Ireland, France, Russia and elsewhere. Every church—there was one of some denomination near every plantation—had special seats reserved for the negroes. The minister always addressed a portion of his sermon particularly to them, and held service for them exclusively on Sabbath afternoon. Besides, they had their own ministers among themselves, and had night prayer meetings in their cabins whenever they chose.
Many prayers ascended from earnest hearts for their conversion, and I knew no home at which some effort was not made for their religious instruction.
One of our friends—a Presbyterian minister and earnest Christian—devoted the greater part of his time to preaching and teaching them. And many pious ministers, throughout the State, bestowed upon them time and labor.
I once attended a gay party where the young lady of the house—the center of attraction—hearing that one of the negroes was suddenly very ill, excused herself from the company, carried her Prayer-book to the cabin, and passed the night by the bedside of the sick man, reading and repeating verses to him. I have also had young lady friends who declined attending a wedding or party when a favorite servant was ill.
On one occasion an English gentleman—Surgeon in the Royal Artillery—visiting at our house, accompanied us to a wedding and hearing that two young ladies had not attended on account of the illness of a negro servant, said to me: “This would not have been in England, and will scarcely be believed when I tell it on my return.”
The same gentleman expressed astonishment at one of our neighbor’s sitting up all night to nurse one of his negroes who was ill. He was amused at the manner of our servants’ identifying themselves with the master and his possessions, always speaking of “our horses,” “our cows,” “our crop,” “our mill,” “our blacksmith’s shop,” “our carriage,” “our black folks,” &c. He told us he observed also a difference between our menials and those of his own country, in that, while here they were individualized, there they were known by the names of “Boots,” “’Ostler,” “Driver,” “Footman,” “Cook,” “Waiter,” “Scullion,” &c.
On our plantations the most insignificant stable boy felt himself of some importance.
When I heard Mr. Dickens read scenes from Nicholas Nickleby, the tone of voice in which he personated Smike sent a chill through me, for I had never before heard the human voice express such hopeless despair. Can there be in England, thought I, human beings afraid of the sound of their own voices?
There was a class of men in our State who made a business of buying negroes to sell again farther south. These we never met, and held in horror. But even they, when we reflect, could not have treated them with inhumanity; for what man would pay a thousand dollars for a piece of property, and fail to take the best possible care of it? The “traders” usually bought their negroes when an estate became involved, for the owners could not be induced to part with their negroes until the last extremity—when everything else had been seized by their creditors. Houses, lands, everything went first, before giving up the negroes; the owner preferring to impoverish himself in the effort to keep and provide for these—which was unwise, financially, and would not have been thought of by a mercenary people.