"She'm jess what aunty am--_de Cunnel's slave!_"

"His _slave!_ it can't be possible; she is white!"

"No, ma.s.sa; she am brack, and de Cunnel's slave!"

Not to weary the reader with a long repet.i.tion of negro-English, I will tell in brief what I gleaned from an hour's conversation with the two blacks.

Madam P---- was the daughter of Ex-Gov. ----, of Virginia, by a quarteron woman. She was born a slave, but was acknowledged as her father's child, and reared in his family with his legitimate children. When she was ten years old her father died, and his estate proving insolvent, the land and negroes were brought under the hammer. His daughter, never having been manumitted, was inventoried and sold with the other property. The Colonel, then just of age, and a young man of fortune, bought her and took her to the residence of his mother in Charleston. A governess was provided for her, and a year or two afterward she was taken to the North to be educated. There she was frequently visited by the Colonel; and when fifteen her condition became such that she was obliged to return home. He conveyed her to the plantation, where her elder son, David, was soon after born, "Aunt Lucy" officiating on the occasion. When the child was two years old, leaving it in charge of the aged negress, she accompanied the Colonel to Europe, where they remained for a year.

Subsequently she pa.s.sed another year at a Northern seminary; and then, returning to the homestead, was duly installed as its mistress, and had ever since presided over its domestic affairs. She was kind and good to the negroes, who were greatly attached to her, and much of the Colonel's wealth was due to her excellent management of the plantation.

Six years after the birth of "young Ma.s.sa Davy," the Colonel married his present wife, that lady having full knowledge of his left-handed connection with Madam P----, and consenting that the "bond-woman" should remain on the plantation, as its mistress. The legitimate wife resided, during most of the year, in Charleston, and when at the homestead took little interest in domestic matters. On one of her visits to the plantation, twelve years before, her daughter, Miss Clara, was born, and within a week, under the same roof, Madam P---- presented the Colonel with a son--the lad Thomas, of whom I have spoken. As the mother was slave, the children were so also at birth, but _they_ had been manumitted by their father. One of them was being educated in Germany; and it was intended that both should spend their lives in that country, the taint in their blood being an insuperable bar to their ever acquiring social position at the South.

As she finished the story, the old woman said, "Ma.s.sa Davy am bery kind to the missus, sar, but he _love_ de ma'am; an' he can't help it, 'cause she'm jess so good as de angels."[E]

In conversation with a well-known Southern gentleman, not long since, I mentioned these two cases, and commented on them as a man educated with New England ideas might be supposed to do. The gentleman admitted that he knew of twenty such instances, and gravely defended the practice as being infinitely more moral and respectable than the _more common relation_ existing between masters and slaves.

I looked at my watch--it was nearly ten o'clock, and I rose to go. As I did so the old negress said:

"Don't yer gwo, ma.s.sa, 'fore you hab sum ob aunty's wine; you'm good friends wid Scip, and I knows _you'se_ not too proud to drink wid brack folks, ef you am from de Norf."

Being curious to know what quality of wine a plantation slave indulged in, I accepted the invitation. She went to the side-board, and brought out a cut-gla.s.s decanter, and three cracked tumblers, which she placed on the table. Filling the gla.s.ses to the brim, she pa.s.sed one to Scip, and one to me, and, with the other in her hand, resumed her seat.

Wishing her a good many happy years, and Scip a pleasant journey home, I emptied my gla.s.s. It was Scuppernong, and the pure juice of the grape!

"Aunty," I said, "this wine is as fine as I ever tasted."

"Oh, yas, ma.s.sa, it am de raal stuff. I growed de grapes myseff."

"You grew them?"

"Yas, sar, an' Ma.s.sa Davy make de wine. He do it ebery yar for de ole nuss."

"The Colonel is very good. Do you raise any thing else?"

"Yas, I hab collards and taters, a little corn, and most ebery ting."

"But who does your work? _You_ certainly can't do it?"

"Oh, de ma'am looks arter dat, sar; she'm bery good to de ole aunty."

Shaking hands with both the negroes, I left the cabin, fully convinced that all the happiness in this world is not found within plastered apartments.

The door of the mansion was bolted and barred; but, rapping for admission, I soon heard the Colonel's voice asking, "Who is there?"

Giving a satisfactory answer, I was admitted. Explaining that he supposed I had retired to my room, he led the way to the library.

That apartment was much more elegantly furnished than the drawing-rooms.

Three of its sides were lined with books, and on the centre-table, papers, pamphlets, and ma.n.u.scripts were scattered in promiscuous confusion. In an arm-chair near the fire, Madame P---- was seated, reading. The Colonel's manner was as composed as if nothing had disturbed the usual routine of the plantation; no trace of the recent terrible excitement was visible; in fact, had I not been a witness to the late tragedy, I should have thought it incredible that he, within two hours, had been an actor in a scene which had cost a human being his life.

"Where in creation have you been, my dear fellow?" he asked, as we took our seats.

"At old Lucy's cabin, with Scip," I replied.

"Indeed. I supposed the darky had gone."

"No, he doesn't go till the morning."

"I told you he wouldn't, David," said Madame P----; "now, send for him--make friends with him before he goes."

"No, Alice, it wont do. I bear him no ill-will, but it wont do. It would be all over the plantation in an hour."

"No matter for that; our people would like you the better for it."

"No, no. I can't do it. I mean him no harm, but I can't do that."

"He told me _why_ he interfered between you and Moye," I remarked.

"Why did he?"

"He says old Lucy, years ago, was a mother to him; that she is greatly attached to you, and it would kill her if any harm happened to you; and that your neighbors bear you no good-will, and would have enforced the law had you killed Moye."

"It is true, David; you would have had to answer for it."

"Nonsense! what influence could this North County sc.u.m have against _me_?"

"Perhaps none. But that makes no difference; Scipio did right, and you should tell him you forgive him."

The Colonel then rang a small bell, and a negro woman soon appeared.

"Sue," he said, "go to Aunt Lucy's, and ask Scip to come here. Bring him in at the front door, and, mind, let no one know he comes."

The woman in a short time returned with Scip. There was not a trace of fear or embarra.s.sment in the negro's manner as he entered the room.

Making a respectful bow, he bade us "good evening."

"Good evening, Scip," said the Colonel, rising and giving the black his hand; "let us be friends. Madam tells me I should forgive you, and I do."

"Aunt Lucy say ma'am am an angel, sar, and it am tru--_it am tru_, sar,"

replied the negro with considerable feeling.

The lady rose, also, and took Scip's hand, saying, "_I_ not only forgive you, but I _thank_ you for what you have done. I shall never forget it."

"You'se too good, ma'am; you'se too good to say dat," replied the darky, the moisture coming to his eyes; "but I meant nuffin' wrong--I meant nuffin' dis'specful to de Cunnel."

"I know you didn't, Scip; but we'll say no more about it;--good-by,"

said the Colonel.

Shaking hands with each one of us, the darky left the apartment.

One who does not know that the high-bred Southern gentleman considers the black as far below him as the horse he drives, or the dog he kicks, cannot realize the amazing sacrifice of pride which the Colonel made in seeking a reconciliation with Scip. It was the cutting off of his right hand. The circ.u.mstance showed the powerful influence held over him by the octoroon woman. Strange that she, his slave, cast out from society by her blood and her life, despised, no doubt, by all the world, save by him and a few ignorant blacks, should thus control a proud, self-willed, pa.s.sionate man, and control him, too, only for good.

After the black had gone, I said to the Colonel, "I was much interested in old Lucy. A few more such instances of cheerful and contented old age, might lead me to think better of slavery."