A Girl's Life in Virginia before the War Part 6

"Well, why could we not?" was the response.

"Oh!" replied another, "the idea of us poor Virginia girls taking a trip!"

"Indeed," said one of the Grove Hill girls, "it would be impossible.

For here are we on this immense estate,--four thousand acres, two large, handsome residences, and three hundred negroes,--regarded as wealthy, and yet, to save our lives, we could not raise money enough for a trip to New York!"

"Nor get a silk-velvet cloak!" said her sister, laughing.

"Yes," replied the other. "Girls! I have been longing and longing for a silk-velvet cloak, but never could get the money to buy one. But last Sunday, at the village church, what should I see but one of the Joneses sweeping in with a long velvet cloak almost touching the floor! And you could set her father's house in our back hall! But, then, she is so fortunate as to own no negroes."

"What a happy girl she must be!" cried a chorus of voices. "No negroes to support! We could go to New York and Niagara, and have velvet cloaks, too, if we only had no negroes to support! But all _our_ money goes to provide for them as soon as the crops are sold!"

"Yes," said one of the Grove Hill girls; "here is our large house without an article of modern furniture. The parlor curtains are one hundred years old, the old-fas.h.i.+oned mirrors and recess tables one hundred years old, and we long in vain for money to buy something new."

"Well!" said one of the sprightliest girls, "we can get up some of our old diamond rings or breastpins which some of us have inherited, and travel on appearances! We have no modern clothes, but the old rings will make us look rich! And a party of _poor, rich Virginians_ will attract the commiseration and consideration of the world when it is known that for generations we have not been able to leave our plantations!"

After these conversations we would fall asleep, and sleep profoundly, until aroused next morning by an army of servants polis.h.i.+ng the hall floors, waxing and rubbing them with a long-handled brush weighted by an oven lid. This made the floor like a "sea of gla.s.s," and dangerous to walk upon immediately after the polis.h.i.+ng process, being especially disastrous to small children, who were continually slipping and falling before breakfast.

The lady[8] presiding over this establishment possessed a cultivated mind, bright conversational powers, and gentle temper, with a force of character which enabled her judiciously to direct the affairs of her household, as well as the training and education of her children.

[8] Mrs. Cary Breckinridge.

She always employed an accomplished tutor, who added to the attractiveness of her home circle.

She helped the boys with their Latin, and the girls with their compositions. In her quiet way she governed, controlled, suggested everything; so that her presence was required everywhere at once.

While in the parlor entertaining her guests with bright, agreeable conversation, she was sure to be wanted by the cooks (there were six!) to "taste or flavor" something in the kitchen; or by the gardener, to direct the planting of certain seeds or roots,--and so with every department. Even the minister--there was always one living in her house--would call her out to consult over his text and sermon for the next Sunday, saying he could rely upon her judgment and discrimination.

Never thinking of herself, her heart overflowing with sympathy and interest for others, she entered into the pleasures of the young as well as the sorrows of the old.

If the boys came in from a fox or deer chase, their pleasure was incomplete until it had been described to her and enjoyed with her again.

The flower-vases were never entirely beautiful until her hand had helped to arrange the flowers.

The girls' laces were never perfect until she had gathered and crimped them.

Her sons were never so happy as when holding her hand and caressing her. And the summer twilight found her always in the vine-covered porch, seated by her husband,--a dear, kind old gentleman,--her hand resting in his, while he quietly and happily smoked his pipe after the day's riding over his plantation, interviewing overseers, millers, and blacksmiths, and settling up accounts.

One more reminiscence, and the Grove Hill picture will be done. No Virginia home being complete without some prominent negro character, the picture lacking this would be untrue to nature, and without the finis.h.i.+ng touch. And not to have "stepped in" to pay our respects to old Aunt Betsy during a visit to Grove Hill would have been looked upon--as it should be to omit it here--a great breach of civility; for the old woman always received us at her door with a cordial welcome and a hearty shake of the hand.

"Lor' bless de child'en!" she would say. "How dey does grow! Done grown up young ladies! Set down, honey. I mighty glad to see you. An'

why didn't your ma[9] come? I would love to see Miss f.a.n.n.y. She always was so good an' so pretty. Seems to me it aint been no time sence she and Miss Emma"--her own mistress--"use' to play dolls togedder, an' I use' to bake sweet cakes for dem, an' cut dem out wid de pepper-box top for dar doll parties; an' dey loved each other like sisters."

[9] "Miss f.a.n.n.y."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HOW DEY DOES GROW!"--_Page 86._]

"Well, Aunt Betsy," we would ask, "how is your rheumatism now?"

"Lor', honey, I nuver spec's to git over dat. But some days I can hobble out an' feed de chickens; an' I can set at my window an' make the black child'en feed 'em, an' I love to think I'm some 'count to Miss Emma. An' Miss Emma's child'en can't do 'thout old 'Mammy Betsy,' for I takes care of all dar pet chickens. Me an' my ole man gittin' mighty ole now; but Miss Emma an' all her child'en so good to us we has pleasure in livin' yet."

At last the shadows began to fall dark and chill upon this once bright and happy home.

Old Aunt Betsy lived to see the four boys--her mistress's brave and n.o.ble sons--buckle their armor on and go forth to battle for the home they loved so well,--the youngest still so young that he loved his pet chickens, which were left to "Mammy Betsy's" special care; and when the sad news at length came that this favorite young master was killed, amid all the agony of grief no heart felt the great sorrow more sincerely than hers.

Another and still another of these n.o.ble youths fell after deeds of heroic valor, their graves the battlefield, a place of burial fit for men so brave. Only one--the youngest--was brought home to find a resting-place beside the graves of his ancestors.

The old man, their father, his mind shattered by grief, continued day after day, for several years, to sit in the vine-covered porch, gazing wistfully out, imagining sometimes that he saw in the distance the manly forms of his sons, returning home, mounted on their favorite horses, in the gray uniforms worn the day they went off.

Then he, too, followed, where the "din of war, the clash of arms," is heard no more.

To recall these scenes so blinds my eyes with tears that I cannot write of them. Some griefs leave the heart dumb. They have no language and are given no language, because no other heart could understand, nor could they be alleviated if shared.

CHAPTER IX.

It will have been observed from these reminiscences that the mistress of a Virginia plantation was more conspicuous, although not more important, than the master. In the house she was the mainspring, and to her came all the hundred or three hundred negroes with their various wants and constant applications for medicine and every conceivable requirement.

Attending to these, with directing her household affairs and entertaining company, occupied busily every moment of her life. While all these devolved upon her, it sometimes seemed to me that the master had nothing to do but ride around his estate on the most delightful horse, receive reports from overseers, see that his pack of hounds was fed, and order "repairs about the mill"--the mill seemed always needing repairs!

This view of the subject, however, being entirely from a feminine standpoint, may have been wholly erroneous; for doubtless his mind was burdened with financial matters too weighty to be grasped and comprehended by our s.e.x.

Nevertheless, the mistress held complete sway in her own domain; and that this fact was recognized will be shown by the following incident:

A gentleman, a clever and successful lawyer, one day discovering a negro boy in some mischief about his house, and determining forthwith to chastise him, took him into the yard for that purpose. Breaking a small switch, and in the act of coming down with it upon the boy, he asked: "Do you know, sir, who is master on my place?"

"Yas, sah!" quickly replied the boy. "Miss Charlotte, sah!"

Throwing aside the switch, the gentleman ran into the house, laughed a half hour, and thus ended his only experiment at interfering in his wife's domain.

His wife, "Miss Charlotte," as the negroes called her, was gentle and indulgent to a fault, which made the incident more amusing.

It may appear singular, yet it is true, that our women, although having sufficient self-possession at home, and accustomed there to command on a large scale, became painfully timid if ever they found themselves in a promiscuous or public a.s.semblage, shrinking from everything like publicity.

Still, these women, to whom a whole plantation looked up for guidance and instruction, could not fail to feel a certain consciousness of superiority, which, although never displayed or a.s.serted in manner, became a part of themselves. They were distinguishable everywhere--for what reason, exactly, I have never been able to find out, for their manners were too quiet to attract attention. Yet a captain on a Mississippi steamboat said to me: "I always know a Virginia lady as soon as she steps on my boat."

"How do you know?" I asked, supposing he would say: "By their plain style of dress and antiquated breastpins."

Said he: "I've been running a boat from Cincinnati to New Orleans for twenty-five years, and often have three hundred pa.s.sengers from various parts of the world. But if there is a Virginia lady among them, I find it out in half an hour. They take things quietly, and don't complain. Do you see that English lady over there? Well, she has been complaining all the way up the Mississippi River. n.o.body can please her. The cabin-maid and steward are worn out with trying to please her. She says it is because the mosquitoes bit her so badly coming through Louisiana. But we are almost at Cincinnati now, haven't seen a mosquito for a week, and she is still complaining!

"Then," he continued, "the Virginia ladies look as if they could not push about for themselves, and for this reason I always feel like giving them more attention than the other pa.s.sengers."

"We are inexperienced travelers," I replied.

And these remarks of the captain convinced me--I had thought it before--that Virginia women should never undertake to travel, but content themselves with staying at home. However, such restriction would have been unfair unless they had felt like the Parisian who, when asked why the Parisians never traveled, replied: "Because all the world comes to Paris!"