The negroes on the these estates appeared lively and happy; that is, if singing and laughing indicates 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, can not 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 among them, the most original, amusing and having 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 roast 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 were entertained often distinguished foreigners, who visiting Richmond desired to see something of Virginia country life. Mr. Thackeray was once entertained at one of them. But Dickens never visited them. Could he have passed a month, at any one of the homes I have described, he would have written something more flattering, I am sure, of Americans and American life than is found in “Martin Chuzzlewit” and “Notes on America.” 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 towards the American—America appearing to the English eye a huge mushroom affair, 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. For although every nation has a right to its prejudices, none has a right, without thorough examination and acquaintance with the subject, to seize a few exaggerated accounts, of another nation by its enemies, and publish them as facts. 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:
“The cruelty of German officers is a matter of notoriety, but an officer in an artillery regiment has lately gone beyond precedent in ingenuity of cruelty. Some of his men being insubordinate, he punished them by means of a ‘spurring process,’ which consisted in jabbing spurs persistently and brutally into their legs. By this process his men were so severely injured they had to go to the hospital.”
Neither have we a right to pronounce all Pennsylvanians cruel to their “helps,” as they call them, because a Pennsylvania lady told me “the only way she could manage her ‘help’”—a white girl fourteen years old—“was by holding her head under the pump and pumping water upon it until she lost her breath;” a process I could not have conceived, and which filled me with horror.
But sorrow and oppression, we suppose, may be found in some form in every clime; and in every phase of existence some hearts are “weary and heavy laden.” Even Dickens, whose mind naturally sought, and fed upon, the comic, saw wrong and oppression in the “humane institutions” of his own land!