But it was hard to part with one’s “own people,” and see them scattered. Still our debts had to be paid; often security debts after the death of the owner, when all had to be sold. And who of us but can remember the tears of anguish caused by this, and scenes of sorrow to which we can never revert without the keenest grief? Yet, like all events in this chequered human life, even these sometimes turned out best for the negroes, when by this means they exchanged unpleasant for more agreeable homes. Still it appeared to me a great evil, and often did I pray that God would make us a way of escape from it. But His ways are past finding out, and why He had been pleased to order it thus we shall never know.
Instances of harsh or cruel treatment were rare. I never heard of more than two or three individuals who were “hard” or unkind to their negroes, and these were ostracised from respectable society, their very names bringing reproach and blight upon their descendants.
We knew of but one instance of cruelty on our plantation, and that was when “Uncle Joe,” the blacksmith, burnt his nephew’s face with a hot iron. The man carries the scar to this day, and in speaking of it, always says: “Soon as my master found out how Uncle Joe treated me he wouldn’t let me work no more in his shop.”
[CHAPTER IV.]
The extent of these estates precluding the possibility of near neighbors, their isolation would have been intolerable but for the custom of visiting which prevailed among us. Many houses were filled with visitors the greater part of the year, usually remaining two or three weeks. Visiting tours were made in our private carriages—each family making at least one such tour a year. Nor was it necessary to announce these visits by message or letter, each house being considered always ready, and “entertaining company” the occupation of the people. Sometimes two or three carriages might be descried in the evening coming up to the door through the Lombardy poplar avenue—the usual approach to many old houses—whereupon ensued a lively flutter among small servants, who speedily got them into their clean aprons, and ran to open gates, and remove parcels from carriages, and becoming generally excited. Lady visitors were always accompanied by colored maids, although sure of finding a superfluity of these at each establishment. The mistress of the house always received her guests in the front porch, with a sincere and cordial greeting.
These visiting friends at my own home made an impression upon me that no time can efface. I almost see them now—those dear, gentle faces—my mother’s early friends; and those delightful old ladies in close bordered tarletan caps, who used to come to see my grandmother. These last would sit round the fire knitting and talking over their early memories; how they remembered the red coats of the British; how they had seen the Richmond theater burn down, with some of their family burned in it. How they used to wear such beautiful turbans of crepe lise to the Cartersville balls, and how they used to dance the minuet. At mention of this, my grandmother would lay off her spectacles, put aside her knitting, rise with dignity—she was very tall—and show us the step of the minuet, gliding slowly and majestically around the room. Then she would say: “Ah, children, you will never see anything so graceful as the minuet. Such jumping around as you see would not have been considered ‘genteel’ in my day!”
My mother’s friends belonged to a later generation, and were types of women, whom to have known I shall ever consider a blessing and privilege. They combined intelligence with exquisite refinement and agreeability; and their annual visits gave my mother the greatest happiness, which we soon learned to share and appreciate.
As I consider these ladies models for our sex through all time, I enumerate some of their attractions:
Entire absence of pretense made them always agreeable. Having no “parlor” or “company” manners to assume, they preserved at all times a gentle, natural, easy demeanor and conversation. They had not dipped into the sciences, attempted by some of our sex at the present day; but the study of Latin and French, with general reading in their mother tongue rendered them intelligent companions for cultivated men. They also possessed the rare gift of reading well aloud, and wrote letters unsurpassed in penmanship, ease and agreeability of style.