"———A monster of such horrid mien,That to be hated needs but to be seen:But seen too oft, familiar with her face,They soon endure—and in the end embrace."
"———A monster of such horrid mien,That to be hated needs but to be seen:But seen too oft, familiar with her face,They soon endure—and in the end embrace."
Many of the planters are northerners. When they have conquered their prejudices, they become thorough, driving planters, generally giving themselves up to the pursuit more devotedly than the regular-bred planter. Their treatment of their slaves is also far more rigid. Northerners are entirely unaccustomed to their habits, which are perfectly understood and appreciated by southerners, who have been familiar with Africans from childhood; whom they have had for their nurses, play-fellows, and "bearers," and between whom and themselves a reciprocal and very natural attachment exists, which, on the gentleman's part, involuntarily extends to the whole dingy race, exhibited in a kindly feeling and condescending familiarity, for which he receives gratitude in return. On the part of the slave, this attachment is manifested by an affection and faithfulness which only cease with life. Of this state of feeling, which a southern life and education can only give, the northerner knows nothing.Inexperience leads him to hold the reins of government over his novel subjects with an unsparing severity, which the native ruler of these domestic colonies finds wholly unnecessary. The slave always prefers a southern master, because he knows that he will be understood by him. His kindly feelings toward, and sympathies with slaves, as such, are as honourable to his heart as gratifying to the subjects of them. He treats with suitable allowance those peculiarities of their race, which the unpractised northerner will construe into idleness, obstinacy, laziness, revenge, or hatred. There is another cause for their difference of treatment to their slaves. The southerner, habituated to their presence, never fears them, and laughs at the idea. It is the reverse with the northerner: he fears them, and hopes to intimidate them by severity.
The system of credit in this country is peculiar. From new-year's to new-year's is the customary extension of this accommodation, and the first of January, as planters have then usually disposed of their crops, is a season for a general settlement throughout every branch of business. The planters have their commission merchants in New-Orleans and Natchez, who receive and ship their cotton for them, and make advances, if required, upon succeeding crops. Some planters export direct to Liverpool and other ports, though generally they sell or consign to the commission merchants in Natchez, who turn cotton into gold so readily, that one verily would be inclined to think that the philosopher's stone might be concealed within the bales. Aplanter often commences with nothing, or merely an endorser—buys land and negroes, and, in the strong phraseology of Crockett, "goes ahead." In a few years he becomes opulent. Others, however, (as was the case with the old settlers especially) and young men at the present time, with little means, commence with a piece of wild land, and five or six, or perhaps not more than two negroes—and go on strengthening and increasing, adding acre to acre, negro to negro, bale to bale, till wealth crowns their labours. Many of the oldest and wealthiest planters began in this manner, when they had to dispute possession of the soil with the Spaniard, the wild beast of the forest, or wilder Indian. They are now reaping the rewards of their youthful toil, in the possession of sons and daughters, lands and influence, and all the luxuries and enjoyments which wealth commands. Their sons, more fortunate in their youth than their sires, receive, from the paternal bounty, plantations and negroes, and at once, without previous toil or care, assume the condition of the refined and luxurious planter. So you perceive that a Yankee farmer and a southern planter are birds of a very different feather.[4]Now in this sad, idolatrous world, where Mammon is worshipped on millions of altars, theswelling hills and noble forests of the south must certainly be "where men ought to worship." If the satirical maxim, "man was made to make money," is true, of which there can be no question—the mint of his operations lies most temptingly between the "Father of waters" and the arrowy Pearl. And men seem to feel the truth of it—or of the maxim of Bacon, that "territory newly acquired and not settled, is a matter of burthen rather than of strength;" for they are spreading over it like a cloud, and occupying the vast tracts called "the Purchase," recently obtained from the Indians, previous to their removal to the west. The tide of emigration is rapidly setting to the north and east portions of the state. Planters, who have exhausted their old lands in this vicinity, are settling and removing to these new lands, which will soon become the richest cotton growing part of Mississippi. Parents do not now think of settling their children on plantations near Natchez, but purchase for them in the upper part of the state. Small towns, with "mighty names," plucked from the ruins of some long since mouldered city of classic fame and memory, are springing up here and there, like mushrooms, amidst the affrighted forests. Sixteen new counties have lately been created in this portion of the state, where so recently the Indian tracked his game and shrieked his war-whoop; and as an agricultural state, the strength and sinew of Mississippi must be hereafter concentrated in this fresher and younger portion of her territory.
[3]The necessary properties of grasses suited to this climate differ from those required in higher latitudes. They should have deep running roots if erect, to withstand the scorching heat of the sun, or their stems should lie prostrate and cover the ground. This is the peculiarity of grasses in the West Indies and Egypt. The grass peculiar to them, and well adapted to this country—the cynosurus Ægyptus—grows in South Carolina and Georgia, and is highly esteemed. Among the small variety of grasses cultivated here, is the Washita winter grass, perennial, and the Natchez winter grass, an annual. The latter is a phalaris, not known at the north. It is a rich grass and very succulent. There is a variety of this grass termed striped grass, cultivated in yards at the north, which is unknown here, and which from its peculiar properties is excellent to bind banks, and would be of great service on plantations where there are bayous. The Bermuda grass has large succulent leaves and runners, and is better adapted to this climate than any other. Lucerne and esparcette have the same properties, but have never been tried. The white clover of Kentucky, known by the name of Buffalo clover, is also admirably adapted, upon the above principles, to this soil and climate. Hay as an article of culture is unknown here. White clover is abundant upon the commons. There are several grasses peculiar to this country unknown at the north; but they are never transplanted from the fields and woods, and are scarcely known and never cultivated. There is properly butone plantin the south, if planters are to draw up the botanical catalogue, and that is thecotton plant!
[3]The necessary properties of grasses suited to this climate differ from those required in higher latitudes. They should have deep running roots if erect, to withstand the scorching heat of the sun, or their stems should lie prostrate and cover the ground. This is the peculiarity of grasses in the West Indies and Egypt. The grass peculiar to them, and well adapted to this country—the cynosurus Ægyptus—grows in South Carolina and Georgia, and is highly esteemed. Among the small variety of grasses cultivated here, is the Washita winter grass, perennial, and the Natchez winter grass, an annual. The latter is a phalaris, not known at the north. It is a rich grass and very succulent. There is a variety of this grass termed striped grass, cultivated in yards at the north, which is unknown here, and which from its peculiar properties is excellent to bind banks, and would be of great service on plantations where there are bayous. The Bermuda grass has large succulent leaves and runners, and is better adapted to this climate than any other. Lucerne and esparcette have the same properties, but have never been tried. The white clover of Kentucky, known by the name of Buffalo clover, is also admirably adapted, upon the above principles, to this soil and climate. Hay as an article of culture is unknown here. White clover is abundant upon the commons. There are several grasses peculiar to this country unknown at the north; but they are never transplanted from the fields and woods, and are scarcely known and never cultivated. There is properly butone plantin the south, if planters are to draw up the botanical catalogue, and that is thecotton plant!
[4]I have lying before me a letter, bearing date July 1, 1806, from a distinguished German botanist; in which, at the close of an article upon the plants of this country, he inquires of Wm. Dunbar, Esq. to whom the letter is addressed, "if the cotton plant has ever been tried in Mississippi?It seems to promise much!" Mississippi planters of the present day will certainly coincide with this gentleman in his opinion.
[4]I have lying before me a letter, bearing date July 1, 1806, from a distinguished German botanist; in which, at the close of an article upon the plants of this country, he inquires of Wm. Dunbar, Esq. to whom the letter is addressed, "if the cotton plant has ever been tried in Mississippi?It seems to promise much!" Mississippi planters of the present day will certainly coincide with this gentleman in his opinion.
An excursion—A planter's gallery—Neglect of grounds—Taste and economy—Mississippi forests—The St. Catherine—Cotton fields—Worm fences—Hedges—The pride of China—The magnolia tree and flower—Plantation roads—White cliffs—General view of a plantation.
An excursion—A planter's gallery—Neglect of grounds—Taste and economy—Mississippi forests—The St. Catherine—Cotton fields—Worm fences—Hedges—The pride of China—The magnolia tree and flower—Plantation roads—White cliffs—General view of a plantation.
A few days since, in company with a northern friend, I made an excursion to an extensive plantation two hours' ride from the city. We left the hotel at an early hour, exchanging our mattresses—the universal southern bed—for more luxurious seats in elastic Spanish saddles, upon delightfully cradling pacers, and proceeded through one of the principal streets, already alive with pedestrians and horsemen; for, in a southern climate, evening and morning constitute the day—the day itself being a "noon of indolence," where ice and shade are the only blessings to be devoutly wished. Ambling along at an easy gait toward the great southern road, leading to New-Orleans, we passed, just on the confines of the country, the residence of the Presbyterian clergyman, and one of the most charming retreats I have yet seen in the vicinity of Natchez, whose suburbs are peculiarly rich in tasteful country seats. Our eyes lingered over the luxuriant shrubbery clustering about the edifice, entwiningaround its columns and peeping in at the windows. Clumps of foliage, of the deepest green, were enamelled with flowers of the brightest hues; and every tree was an aviary, from which burst the sweetest melody. What a spot for the student! Among flowers and vines and singing birds! What a freshness must they fling around his heart! What a richness must clothe even the language of sermons composed in such pleasant shades—the cool wind loaded with fragrance, leaping from among the trees upon the brow, and playing refreshingly among the hair!
Leaving, to the right, the romantic fort Rosalie, rearing its green parapets in strong relief against the sky—a prominent object amid the slightly elevated surface of the surrounding country—we turned into one of those pleasant roads which wind in all directions through the rich scenery of this state. The first mile we passed several neat dwellings, of the cottage order; one of which, with a gallery in front, and surrounded by a smooth, green slope, was the residence of the Episcopalian clergyman. It was a chaste and pretty mansion, though not so luxuriantly embowered as the abode of the clergyman above alluded to. A huge colonnaded structure, crowning an abrupt eminence near the road, struck our eyes with an imposing effect. It was the abode of one of the wealthiest planters of this state; who, like the majority of those whose families now roll in their splendid equipages, has been the maker of his fortune. The grounds about this edifice were neglected; horses were grazing aroundthe piazzas, over which were strewed saddles, whips, horse blankets, and the motley paraphernalia with which planters love to lumber their galleries. On nearly every piazza in Mississippi may be found a wash-stand, bowl, pitcher, towel, and water-bucket, for general accommodation. But the southern gallery is not constructed, like those at the north, for ornament or ostentation, but for use. Here they wash, lounge, often sleep, and take their meals.—Here will the stranger or visiter be invited to take a chair, or recline upon a sofa, settee, or form, as the taste and ability of the host may have furnished this important portion of a planter's house. I once called on a planter within an hour's ride of Natchez, whose income would constitute a fortune for five or six modest Yankees. I entered the front yard—a green level, shaded with the relics of a forest—the live oak, sycamore, and gum trees—through a narrow wicket in a white-washed paling, the most common fence around southern dwellings. In the front yard were several sheep, colts, calves, two or three saddle and a fine pair of carriage-horses, negro children, and every variety of domestic fowl. The planter was sitting upon the gallery, divested of coat, vest, and shoes, with his feet on the railing, playing, in high glee, with a little dark-eyed boy and two young negroes, who were chasing each other under the bridge formed by his extended limbs. Three or four noble dogs, which his voice and the presence of his servant, who accompanied me to the house, kept submissive, were crouching like leopards around his chair. A litter of youngbull-headed pups lay upon a blanket under a window opening into a bed-room, white with curtains and valances; while a domestic tabby sat upon the window-sill, gazing musingly down upon the rising generation of her hereditary foes, perhaps with reflections not of the most pleasing cast. A hammock, suspended between an iron hook driven into the side of the house and one of the slender columns which supported the sloping roof of the gallery, contained a youth of fourteen, a nephew of the planter, fast locked in the embraces of Morpheus; whoseaid-de-camp, in the shape of a strapping negress, stood by the hammock, waving over the sleeper a long plume of gorgeous feathers of the pea-fowl—that magnificent bird of the south, which struts about the ground of the planter, gratifying the eye with the glorious emblazonry upon his plumage by day, and torturing the ear with his loud clamours by night. A pair of noble antlers was secured to one of the pillars, from whose branches hung broad-brimmed hats, bridles, a sheep-skin covering to a saddle, which reposed in one corner of the piazza, a riding whip, a blanket coat or capote, spurs, surcingle, and part of a coach harness. A rifle and a shot-gun with an incredibly large bore, were suspended in beckets near the hall entrance; while a couple of shot-pouches, a game-bag, and other sporting apparatus, hung beside them. Slippers, brogans, a pillow, indented as though recently deserted, a gourd, and a broken "cotton slate," filled up the picture, whose original, in some one or otherof its features, may be found in nearly every planter's dwelling in this state.
There are many private residences, in the vicinity of Natchez, of an equally expensive character with the one which furnished the above description, whose elegant interiors, contrasting with the neglected grounds about them, suggest the idea of a handsome city residence, accidentally dropped upon a bleak hill, or into the midst of a partially cleared forest, and there remaining, with its noble roof grasped by the arms of an oak, and its windows and columns festooned by the drooping moss, heavily waving in the wind. Thus are situated many of the planters' dwellings, separated from the adjacent forests by a rude, white-washed picket, enclosing around the house an unornamented green, or grazing lot, for the saddle and carriage-horses, which can regale their eyes at pleasure, by walking up to the parlour windows and gazing in upon handsome carpets, elegant furniture, costly mantel ornaments, and side-boards loaded with massive plate; and, no doubt, ruminate philosophically upon the reflection of their figures at full-length in long, richly-framed mirrors. Very few of the planters' villas, even within a few miles of Natchez, are adorned with surrounding ornamental shrubbery walks, or any other artificial auxiliaries to the natural scenery, except a few shade trees and a narrow, gravelled avenue from the gate to the house. A long avenue of trees, ornamenting and sheltering the approach to a dwelling, is a rare sight in this state, thoughvery frequently seen in Louisiana. Yet, in no region of the south can fine avenues of beautiful trees be made with such facility as in Mississippi. No state surpasses this in the beauty, variety, and rapid growth of its ornamental shade trees; the laurel, sycamore, locust, oak, elm, and white bay, with the "pride of China,"—the universal shade tree in the south-west—arrive here at the most perfect maturity and beauty. Every plantation residence is approached by an avenue, often nearly a mile in length; yet so little attention is paid to this species of ornament and comfort, in a climate where shade is a synonym for luxury, that scarcely one of them is shaded, except where, in their course through a forest, nature has flung the broad arms of majestic trees across the path.
The peculiarity of the dwellings of planters, evinced in hiding the prettiest cottage imaginable under the wild, gnarled limbs of forest trees, fringed with long black moss, like mourning weeds, which hangs over the doors and windows in melancholy grandeur, may be traced, very naturally, to the original mode of life of most of the occupants, who, though now opulent, have arisen, with but few exceptions, from comparative obscurity in the world of dollars. Originally occupying log huts in the wilderness, their whole time and attention were engaged in the culture of cotton; and embellishment, either of their cabins or grounds, was wholly disregarded. When they became the lords of a domain and a hundred slaves; for many retain their cabins even till then—ostentation, as they saw theelegancies of refined society displayed around them—necessity, for fear of being entombed in the ruins of their venerable log palaces—or a desire for greater comfort—razed the humble cabin, and reared upon its site the walls of an expensive and beautiful fabric. Here the planter stops. The same causes which originally influenced him to neglect the improvement of his grounds, still continue to exist; and though he may inhabit a building that would grace an English park, the grounds and scenery about it, with the exception of a paling enclosing a green yard, are suffered to remain in their pristine rudeness. Thus far, and with few exceptions, no farther, have the wealthiest planters advanced. Here they have taken a stand; and a motive cause, equal to that which led to the first step from the cabin to the more elegant mansion, must again operate, or the finest villas in Mississippi will, for many years to come, be surrounded, on one or more sides, with the native forests, or stand in unpicturesque contiguity with ploughed fields, cattle-pens, and the several interesting divisions of a farm-yard.
You will judge, from this state of things, that the Mississippi planters are not a showy and stylish class, but a plain, practical body of men, who, in general, regard comfort, and conformity to old habits, rather than display and fashionable innovations; and who would gaze with more complacency upon an acre of their domain, whitened, like a newly-washed flock, with cotton, than were it spread out before them magnificent with horticulture, or beautifully velveted with green. Still planters arenot destitute of taste; it is their principle to make it yield to interest. "What a fine park you might have around your house," once remarked an English gentleman to a planter in this state, as he surveyed the finely undulating fields here and there sprinkled with an oak, extending on every side around the dwelling.
"Very true," replied the southron, "but these few acres yield me annually from ten to twelve bales of cotton: this would be too great a sacrifice for the mere gratification of the eye."
"Still very true," replied the Englishman, "but this sense could be gratified without any sacrifice. Your plantation consists of eight or nine hundred acres, and not one half is under cultivation; a portion of that now uncultivated might be substituted for this." To this the planter answered, that the soil about his house would produce more to the acre than the other, by at least one bale in every ten, having been long under cultivation; and that merely as a matter of taste, though no one admired a fine park or lawn more than himself, he could not devote it to this object.
This principle of the land economist, so devoutly reverenced, will long preclude that desirable union of taste and interest, which is the combined result of wealth attained and enjoyed. The last state men cannot be said to be in, who, however wealthy, never relax their exertions in adding to their incomes; which is, and ever will be the case with the planter, and indeed every other man, so long as he can, by his efforts, annually increase his revenue ten ortwenty thousand dollars. To the immense profit which every acre and the labour of every slave yield the planter, and to no other cause, is to be referred the anomalous result manifested in neglecting to improve their estates: for an acre, that will yield them sixty dollars per annum, and a slave, whose annual labour will yield from two to five hundred dollars, are, by the laws which regulate the empire of money, to be appropriated to the service of interest, to the entire exclusion of the claims of taste.
About a mile from Natchez, we passed, close by the road-side, a family cemetery, whose white paling was bursting with shrubbery. No mausoleum gratefully relieving the eye, rose amid the luxuriant foliage, enshrining the affection of the living or the memory of the dead. On the opposite side of the road stood a handsome mansion, though without that noble expanse of lawn which is the finest feature in the grounds of an English country residence. Instead of a lawn, a small unimproved court-yard intervened between the house and the road. Winding round an extensive vegetable garden, attached to the house, which is the only dwelling for more than ten miles immediately on the road, we travelled for an hour, either over a pleasantly rolling country, with extensive cotton fields, spreading away on either hand; or beneath forest trees, which, in height and majesty, might vie with the "cedars of Lebanon." There is a grandeur in the vast forests of the south, of which a northerner can form no adequate conception. The trees spring from the groundinto the air, noble columns, from fifty to a hundred feet in height, and, expanding like the cocoa, fling abroad their limbs, which, interlocking, present a canopy almost impervious to the sun, and beneath which wind arcades of the most magnificent dimensions. The nakedness of the tall shafts is relieved by the luxuriant tendrils of the muscadine and woodbine twining about them, in spiral wreaths, quite to their summit, or hanging in immense festoons from tree to tree. In these woods horsemen can advance without obstruction, so spacious are the intervals between the trees, so high the branches above them, and so free from underwood is the sward. Of such forest-riding the northerner knows nothing, unless his lore in tales of Italian banditti may have enabled him to form some idea of scenes with which his own country refuses to gratify him. So much do the northern and southern forests differ, that a fleet rider will traverse the latter with more ease than the woodman can the former.
Cut from the shaft of a southern forest tree, a section forty or fifty feet in length, and plant the mutilated summit in the earth, and its stunted appearance would convey to a Mississippian a tolerably correct idea of a forest tree in New-England; or add to the low trunk of a wide spreading northern oak, the column abstracted from its southern rival, and northerners would form from its towering altitude, a tolerable idea of a forest tree in Mississippi. Hang from its heavy branches huge tassels of black Carolina moss, from two to six feet in length—suspend from limb to limb gigantic festoons of vines,themselves but lesser trees in size, and clothe its trunk with a spiral vestment of leaves, as though a green serpent were coiled about it, and you will have created a southern tree in its native majesty. Imagine a forest of them lifting their tops to heaven and yourself bounding away upon a fleet horse beneath its sublime domes, with a noble stag, flying down its glades like a winged creature, while the shouts of hunters, the tramp of horses, and the baying of hounds echo through its solemn corridors, and then you will have some faint idea of the glory of a southern forest and the noble character of its enjoyments.[5]
Between three and four miles from Natchez we crossed the St. Catharine, a deeply bedded and narrow stream, winding through a fertile tract of country in a very serpentine course, for nearly thirty leagues before it empties into the Mississippi, twenty miles below Natchez. This stream is celebrated in the early history of this state, and still possesses interest from the Indian traditions with which it is associated. In numerous villages, formerly scattered along its banks, and spread over the beautiful hills among which it meanders, but not a vestige of which now remains, it is supposed, on the authority both of oral and written history, that more than two hundred thousand Indians but a fewdegrees removed from the refinements of civilized life, dwelt peaceably under their own vine and fig-tree. But where are they now? "Echo answers—Where!"
Between five and six miles from town the road passed through the centre of one of the most extensive plantations in the county. For more than a mile on either side, an immense cotton field spread away to the distant forests. Not a fence, except that which confined the road, (always degraded, in the parlance of the country, when running between two fences, to a "lane,") was to be seen over the whole cultivated surface of a mile square. The absence of fences is a peculiarity of southern farms. As their proprietors cultivate but one article as a staple, there is no necessity of intersecting their lands by fences, as at the north, where every farm is cut up into many portions, appropriated to a variety of productions. To a northern eye, a large extent of cultivated country, without a fence, or scarcely a dwelling, would present a singular appearance; but a short residence in the south will soon render one familiar with such scenery where no other meets the eye. The few fences, however, that exist on plantations, for defining boundaries, confining public roads, and fencing in the pasture lands—which, instead of broad green fields as in New-England, are the woods and cane-brakes—are of the most unsightly kind. With a gently undulating surface and a diversity of vale and wood scenery unrivalled, the natural loveliness of this state is disfigured by zigzag, or Virginia fences, whichstretch along the sides of the most charming roads, surround the loveliest cottages, or rudely encroach upon the snowy palings that enclose them, and intersect the finest eminences and fairest champaigns. The Yankee farmer's stone and rail fences are bad enough, but they are in character with the ruder features of his country; but the worm fences and arcadian scenery of the south are combinations undreamed of in my philosophy. These crooked lines of deformity obtruding upon the eye in every scene—the numerous red banks and chasms caused by the "wash," and Congo and Mandingo nymphs and swains, loitering around every fountain, rambling through the groves, or reclining in the shades, are in themselves sufficient to unruralise even "Araby the blest." Yet with all these harsh artificial features, there is a picturesqueness—a quiet beauty in the general aspect of the scenery, not unfrequently strengthened into majesty, so indelibly stamped upon it by nature that nothing less than a rail-road can wholly deface it.
On the plantation alluded to above, through which lay our road, I noticed within the fence a young hedge, which, with an unparalleled innovation upon the prescriptive right of twisted fences, had recently been planted to supersede them. In a country where the "chickasaw rose," which is a beautiful hedge thorn, grows so luxuriantly, it is worthy of remark that the culture of the hedge, so ornamental and useful as a field-fence, is altogether neglected. Planters would certainly find it eventually for their interest, and if generally adopted, the scenery ofthis state would rival the loveliest sections of rural England. Delaware, without any striking natural beauties, by clustering green hedges around her wheat-fields and farm-houses, has created an artificial feature in her scenery which renders her naturally tame aspect extremely rural, if not beautiful. The hedge, however, will not be introduced into this state to the exclusion of the rail-fence, until the pine woods, dwindled here and there to a solitary tree, refuse longer to deform in the shape of rails, a country they were originally intended to beautify.
The "quarters" of the plantation were pleasantly situated upon an eminence a third of a mile from the road, each dwelling neatly white-washed and embowered in the China tree, which yields in beauty to no other. This, as I have before remarked, is the universal shade tree for cabin and villa in this state. It is in leaf about seven months in the year, and bears early in the spring a delicate and beautiful flower, of a pale pink ground slightly tinged with purple. In appearance and fragrance it resembles the lilac, though the cluster of flowers is larger and more irregularly formed. These after loading the air with their fragrance for some days, fall off, leaving green berries thickly clustering on every branch. These berries become yellow in autumn, and long after the seared leaf falls, hang in clusters from the boughs, nor finally drop from them until forced from their position by the young branches and leaves in the succeeding spring. The chief beauty of this tree consists in the richness andarrangement of its foliage. From a trunk eight or ten feel in height, the limbs, in the perfect tree, branch irregularly upward at an angle of about 45° or 50°. From these, which are of various lengths, slender shoots extend laterally, bearing at their extremities a thick tuft of leaves. These slender branches radiate in all directions, each also terminating in fine feathery tufts, which, being laid one over the other like scales on armour, present an almost impenetrable shield to the rays of the sun. These young shoots throughout the season are constantly expanding their bright parasols of leaves, and as they are of a paler hue than the older leaves, which are of a dark purple green, the variegated effect, combined with the singularly beautiful arrangement of the whole, is very fine. The rapid growth of this tree is remarkable. A severed limb placed in the ground, in the winter, will burst forth into a fine luxuriant head of foliage in the spring. From a berry slightly covered with soil, a weed, not unlike the common pig-weed, in the rapidity of its growth and the greenness of its stalk, shoots up during the summer four or five feet in height. During the winter its stalks harden, and in the spring, in a brown coat, and with the dignity of a young tree, it proudly displays its tufts of pale, tapering leaves. In three or four summers more it will fling its limbs over the planter's cottage—and cast upon the ground a broad and delightful shade. Divest a tree of the largest size of its top, and in the spring the naked stump will burst forth into a cloud of foliage. Such is the tree which surrounds the dwellings andborders the streets in the villages of the south-west—the "vine" and the "fig tree" under which every man dwells.
About two leagues from Natchez the road entered an extensive forest, winding along upon a ridge thickly covered with the polished leaved magnolia tree (M. grandiflora)—the pride of southern forests. This tree is an evergreen, and rises from the ground often to the height of seventy feet, presenting an exterior of evergreen leaves, and large white flowers. Its leaves appearing like "two single laurel-leaves rolled into one," are five or six inches in length, of a dark green colour, the under side of a rich brown, and the upper beautifully glazed, and thick like shoe leather. The flower is magnificent. In June it unfolds itself upon the green surface of the immoveable cone in fine relief. When full blown it is of a great size; some of them cannot be placed in a hat without crushing them. Its petals are a pure white, shaped and curved precisely like a quarter-section of the rind of an orange, and nearly as thick, and perfectly smooth and elastic. They are frequently used by boarding-school misses to serve asbillets doux, for which, from their fragrance and unsullied purity, they are admirably fitted. They are so large that I have written upon one of them with a lead pencil in ordinary handwriting, a stanza from Childe Harold. It must be confessed that the writing as well as the material is of a very ephemeral kind; but for this reason the material is perhaps the more valuable when pressed into the service of Don Cupid. They are sofragrant that a single flower will fill a house with the most agreeable perfume; and the atmosphere for many rods in the vicinity of a tree in full flower is so heavily impregnated, that a sensation of faintness will affect one long remaining within its influence.
The remainder of our ride was through a fine forest, occasionally opening into broad cotton fields. Once on ascending a hill we caught, through a vista in the woods over broad fields, a glimpse of the cypress forests of Louisiana, spread out like a dark sea to the level horizon. The Mississippi rolled through the midst unseen. As we rode on we passed roads diverging to the right and left from the highway, leading to the hidden dwellings of the planters. A large gate set into a rail fence usually indicates the vicinity of a planter's residence in the south—but the plantation roads here turned into the forests, through which they romantically wound till lost in their depths. Any of these roads would have conducted us to the villa of some wealthy planter. There can be little ostentation in a people who thus hide their dwellings from the public road. Jonathan, on the other hand, would plant his house so near the highway as to have a word from his door with every passenger. Deprive him of a view of the public road, and you deprive him of his greatest enjoyment—the indulgence of curiosity. About nine miles from town the forest retreated from the road, and from the brow of a hill, the brown face of a cliff rose above the tops of the trees about a league before us. To the eye so long accustomed to the unvarying green hue of the scenery—therough face of this cliff was an agreeable relief. It was one of the white cliffs alluded to in a former letter. Shortly after losing sight of this prominent object, we turned into a road winding through the woods, which conducted us for a quarter of an hour down and up several precipitous hills, across two deep bayous, through an extensive cotton field in which the negroes were industriously at work without a "driver" or an "overseer," and after winding a short distance bordered by young poplars round the side of a hill, passed through a first, then a second gateway, and finally brought us in front of the dwelling house of our host, and the termination of our interesting ride.
[5]The forests of Mississippi consist of oak, ash, maple, hickory, sweet gum, cypress, (in the bottoms) yellow poplar, holly, black and white flowering locusts, pecan, and pine on the ridges, with a countless variety of underwood, ivy, grape vines, (vitis silvestris) papaw, spice-wood, and innumerable creepers whose flexile tendrils twine around every tree.
[5]The forests of Mississippi consist of oak, ash, maple, hickory, sweet gum, cypress, (in the bottoms) yellow poplar, holly, black and white flowering locusts, pecan, and pine on the ridges, with a countless variety of underwood, ivy, grape vines, (vitis silvestris) papaw, spice-wood, and innumerable creepers whose flexile tendrils twine around every tree.
Horticulture—Chateaubriand—A Mississippi garden and plants—A novel scene—Sick slaves—Care of masters for their sick—Shamming—Inertness of negroes—Burial of slaves—Negro mothers—A nursery—Negro village on the Sabbath—Religious privileges of slaves—Marriages—Negro "passes"—The advantages of this regulation—Anecdote of a runaway.
Horticulture—Chateaubriand—A Mississippi garden and plants—A novel scene—Sick slaves—Care of masters for their sick—Shamming—Inertness of negroes—Burial of slaves—Negro mothers—A nursery—Negro village on the Sabbath—Religious privileges of slaves—Marriages—Negro "passes"—The advantages of this regulation—Anecdote of a runaway.
In America, where vegetation is on a scale of magnificence commensurate with her continental extent—it is remarkable that a taste for horticulture should be so little cultivated. In the southern United States, nature enamels with a richness of colouring and a diversity of materials which she hasbut sparingly employed in decorating the hills and valleys of other lands. The grandeur of the forests in the south, and the luxuriance of the shrubs and plants, have no parallel. But southerners tread the avenues, breathe the air, and recline under the trees and in the arbours of their paradise, thankfully accepting and enjoying their luxurious boon, but seldom insinuating, through the cultivation of flowers, that nature has left her work imperfect. There are, it is true, individual exceptions. One of the finest private gardens in the United States, which has suggested these remarks, is in the south, and within two hours ride of Natchez. But as a general rule, southerners, with the exception of the cultivation of a few plants in a front yard, pay little regard to horticulture. So in New-England, a lilac tree between the windows, a few rose bushes and indigenous plants lining the walk, and five or six boxes or vases containing exotics standing upon the granite steps on either side of the front door, constitute the sum of their flower plants and the extent to which this delightful science is carried. The severity of northern winters and the shortness of the summers, may perhaps preclude perfection in this pleasing study, but not excuse the present neglect of it. The English, inhabiting a climate but a little milder, possess a strong and decided horticultural taste—England itself is one vast garden made up of innumerable smaller ones, each, from the cluster of shrubbery around the humblest cottage to the magnificent park, that spreads around her palaces, displaying the prevailing national passion.
Though southerners do not often pursue horticulture as a science, yet they are passionately fond of flowers. At the south, gentlemen, without the charge of coxcombry or effeminacy, wear them in the button-holes of their vests—fair girls wreathe them in their hair, and children trudge to school loaded with bouquets. The south is emphatically the land of flowers; nature seems to have turned this region from her hand as thechef d'œuvreof her skill. Here, in the glowing language of Chateaubriand, are seen "floating islands of Pistia and Nenuphar, whose yellow roses spring up like pavilions; here magnificent savanas unfold their green mantles, which seem in the distance to blend their verdure with the azure of the skies. Suspended on the floods of the Mississippi, grouped on rocks and mountains and dispersed in valleys, trees of every odour, every shape, every hue, entwine their variegated heads, and ascend to an immeasurable height; bignonias, vines, and colocynths, wind their slender roots around their trunks, creep to the summit of their branches, and passing from the maple to the tulip tree and alcea, form a thousand bowers and verdant arcades; stretching from tree to tree they often throw their fibrous arms across rivers and erect on them arches of foliage and flowers. Amidst these fragrant clusters, the proud magnolia raises its immoveable cone, adorned with snowy roses, and commanding the whole forest, meets with no other rival than the palm-tree, whose green leaves are softly fanned by refreshing gales." The race here now is for wealth; in good time the passion will change, andmen, tired of contesting for the prize in the game of life, which they have won over and over again, will seek a theatre on which to display their golden laurels; and where are men more fond of displaying their wealth than on their persons, equipage, and dwellings? Horticulture, the taste in such cases earliest cultivated, will then shed its genial influence over the valley of the south-west, and noble mansions and tasteful cottages, around which forests now gloomily frown, or rude fields spread their ploughed surfaces, will be surrounded by noble grounds enriched by the hand of taste from the lavish opulence of the forests and savanas. The garden alluded to at the commencement of this letter, is situated upon the plantation, an excursion to which was the subject of my last. As this is said to be the finest garden in Mississippi, to which all others more or less approximate, in the character of their plants, style, and general arrangement, I would describe it, could my pen do adequate justice to the taste of its proprietor, or the variety and beauty of the plants and flowers. Among them—for I will mention a few—which represented every clime, were the cape myrtle, with its pure and delicately formed flower, the oak geranium, the classical ivy, and the fragrant snow-drop. The broad walks were, as usual in southern gardens, bordered by the varnished lauria mundi, occasionally relieved by the cape jessamine, slender althea, and dark green arbor vitæ. The splendidly attired amaryllis, the purple magnolia, the Arabian and night-blooming jessamines, the verbenum, or lemon-scented geranium,with the majestic aloe, that hoary monarch of the garden, which blooms but once in a century, the broad-leaved yarra, or caco, the fragrant snow-drop, and the sweet-scented shrub and oleander, with countless other shrubs and flowers, breathing forth the sweetest fragrance, gratified the senses, and pleased the eye wherever it was turned. There spread the cassia, a creeping plant, bearing a pink flower, and admirably adapted to bind the soil of this region, to prevent its "washing," by the texture of its thickly matted shoots, its tenacity to the soil, and the density of its foliage, all which combined, render it a secure shield laid over the surface of the ground; box-trees, in luxuriant, dark green cones, two or three feet high, were interspersed among the loftier shrubs at the angles of the several avenues, which were lined with diminutive hedges of this thickly-leaved plant. In the centre of the main avenue, which, on account of the inclination of the garden, was a terraced walk, terminating in an artificial pond, was a large diamond-shaped bed of violets enamelled with blue and green, from which arose a cloud of fragrance that floated over the whole garden, gathering rich tributes from a hundred flowers of the sweetest perfume and loveliest hues. Around this pond, were crescents of shrubs and trees, among which the melancholy weeping willow drooped its graceful tendrils over the water.[6]Beyond this little lake, the primevalforests, which on every side bounded the prospect, rose majestically on the summit of a high hill, in front, affording a striking contrast to the Hesperian elegancies spread around the observer.
Arbours of the lauria mundi, and pleasant alcoves invited to repose or meditation; and thickly shaded walks, wound on either side of the principal walk which they occasionally intersected, in graceful serpentine lines, bordered by the eglantine, or Scotchrose, the monthly rose—the flower-pot plant of the north—which here grows in luxuriant hedges, from six to ten feet high. The moss, and wild rose, the last a native, in which the creative power of horticulture annually unfolds new beauties, the dwarf cape jessamine, the Washita willow, with its pretty flower, the laurustina, hypiscus, and citronelle, or fragrant lemon grass, the tea-tree, three feet high, with orange and lemon trees, bending under their golden fruit, and a guava tree, the only one in fruit in the state, clustering with its delicious apple, presented on every side the most delightful offerings to the senses. But I must beg your indulgence for intruding upon you a botanical catalogue of plants in a southern garden, which Pomona, envying the fair divinity presiding there, might sigh to make her empire. Besides this exception to my general philippic in the former part of this letter, against the practical floral taste of Mississippians, there are a few others sufficiently beautiful to atone for the prevailing deficiency of which I have spoken. Clifton, an elegant villa near Natchez, and one of the finest residences in the state, for the beauty of its grounds, and the extent of the prospect from its lofty galleries, boasts a garden of almost unrivalled beauty, and rich in the number and variety of its shrubs and plants. There are three or four other gardens, buried like gems in the centre of old plantations, which, in horticultural wealth and display, nearly rival those above mentioned. I record these instances with pleasure, as indicating the existence of that fine taste, in the germ at least, whichrefinement, opulence, and leisure, will in time unfold and ripen into maturity.
While standing upon the gallery in the evening, enjoying the various busy scenes and confused sounds peculiar to a plantation at the close of day, my attention was drawn to a lugubrious procession, consisting of seven or eight negroes approaching the house from the "quarters," some with blankets thrown like cloaks over their shoulders, their heads bandaged, and moving with a listless gait of inimitable helplessness. One after another they crawled up and presented themselves, before the open passage in the gallery. Seeing such a sad assembly I approached them with curiosity, while their master, notified of their arrival, came out to examine into the state of this his walking hospital. Of all modifications of the "human face divine," that of the sick negro is the most dolorous. Their miserable, abject, hollow-eyed look has no parallel. The negro is not an Adonis in his best estate. But he increases his natural ugliness by a laxity of the muscles, a rolling of the eye and a dropping of the under jaw, when ill, which give his face a most ludicrously wo-begone appearance. The transparent jet-black hue of his skin altogether disappears, leaving the complexion a dingy brown or sallow, which in no slight degree increases the sadness of his physiognomy. Those who are actually ill generally receive every attention that humanity—not "interest"—dictates. It has been said that interest is the only friend of the slave; that without this lever applied to the feelings of the master, he would never beinfluenced to care for his slaves either in health or in sickness. However true this may be in individual instances, a vast number of cases have come within my knowledge, which have convinced me that as a general censure this charge is unmerited. Planters, particularly native planters, have a kind of affection for their negroes, incredible to those who have not observed its effects. If rebellious they punish them—if well behaved they not unfrequently reward them. In health they treat them with uniform kindness, in sickness with attention and sympathy. I once called on a native planter—a young bachelor, like many of his class, who had graduated at Cambridge and travelled in Europe—yet northern education and foreign habits did not destroy the Mississippian. I found him by the bed side of a dying slave—nursing him with a kindness of voice and manner, and displaying a manly sympathy with his sufferings honorable to himself and to humanity. On large plantations hospitals are erected for the reception of the sick, and the best medical attendance is provided for them. The physicians of Natchez derive a large proportion of their incomes from attending plantations. On some estates a physician permanently resides, whose time may be supposed sufficiently taken up in attending to the health of from one to two hundred persons. Often, several plantations, if the "force" on each is small, unite and employ one physician for the whole. Every plantation is supplied with suitable medicines, and generally to such an extent, that some room or part of a room in the planter's house is converted into a smallapothecary's shop. These, in the absence of the physician in any sudden emergency, are administered by the planter. Hence, the health of the slaves, so far as medical skill is concerned, is well provided for. They are well fed and warmly clothed in the winter, in warm jackets and trowsers, and blanket coats enveloping the whole person, with hats or woolen caps and brogans. In summer they have clothing suitable to the season, and a ragged negro is less frequently to be met with than in northern cities.
The attendance which the sick receive is a great temptation for the slaves to "sham" illness. I was dining not long since in the country where the lady—a planter's daughter, and the wife and mother of a planter—sent from the table some plates of rich soup and boiled fowl to "poor sick Jane and her husband," as she observed in her reply to one who inquired if any of her "people" were unwell. A portion of the dessert was also sent to another who was convalescent. Those who are not considered ill enough to be sent to the hospital, are permitted to remain in their houses or cabins, reporting themselves every evening at the "great hus," as they term the family mansion. The sombre procession alluded to above, which led to these remarks, consisted of a few of these invalids, who had appeared at the gallery to make their evening report. On being questioned as to their respective conditions, a scene ensues that to be appreciated, must be observed.
"What ails you, Peter?" "Mighty sick,master."[7]"Show me your tongue:" and out, inch by inch, projects a long tongue, not unlike the sole of his shoe in size and colour, accompanied by a groan from the very pit of the stomach. If the negro is actually ill, suitable medicine is prescribed, which his master or the physician compels him to swallow in his presence. For, sick or well, and very fond of complaining, they will never take "doctor's stuff," as they term it, but, throwing it away as soon as they are out of sight, either go without any medicine, or take some concoction in repute among the old African beldames in the "quarters," by which they are sickened if well, and made worse if ill, and present themselves for inspection the next evening, by no means improved in health. They are fond of shamming, or "skulking," as sailors term it, and will often voluntarily expose themselves to sickness, in order to obtain exemption from labour.
There is no animal so averse to labour, even to the most necessary locomotion, as the African. His greatest enjoyment seems to be a state of animal inactivity. Inquire of any ordinary field negro why he would like to be free, if he ever happened to indulge the wish, and he will reply, "because me no work all day long." It is well known that the "lazzaroni" of Italy, the gauchos who infest Buenos Ayres, and the half-bloods swarming in the streets of all South American cities, will never labour, unless absolutely obliged to do so for the purpose of sustaining existence, and then only for thetemporary supply. I once applied to a half-naked gaucho, who, with his redcapotewound about his head, was dozing in the sun on theplaza, to carry a portmanteau. Slowly raising the heavy lids of his large glittering eyes, he took two pieces of money, of small value, from the folds of his red sash, and held them up to my view, murmuring, with a negative inclination of his head—"Tengo dos reales, señor:" thereby implying, "I will take mine ease while my money lasts—no more work till this is gone." By such a feeling is this class of men invariably governed. Individuals of them I have known to work with great industry for a day or two, and earn a few dollars, when they would cease from their usual labour, and, until their last penny was expended, no remuneration would prevail on them to carry a trunk across the square. From my knowledge of negro character at the south, however elevated it may be at the north, I am convinced that slaves, in their present moral condition, if emancipated, would be lazzaroni in every thing but colour. Sometimes a sham patient will be detected; although, to make their complaints the more specious, they frequently discolour the tongue. This species of culprit is often punished by ridicule and exposure to his fellows, whose taunts on such occasions embody the purest specimens of African wit. Not unfrequently these cheats are punished by a dose from the medicine chest, that effectually cures them of such indispositions. Latterly, since steaming has been fashionable, a good steaming has been known to be an equally effective prescription.
When a negro dies, his remains are placed in a coffin and decently interred. Labour is often entirely suspended on the plantation, and the slaves are assembled in their Sunday clothes to attend the funeral. Divine service is sometimes performed in the little chapel on the plantation, at which not only the slaves but the members of the white family are present. A Presbyterian clergyman recently informed me that he had been sent for by a native planter, to attend the funeral of one of his slaves and preach his funeral sermon. He went, though twelve miles distant from his residence, and remarked that he was never present on a more interesting occasion. On most plantations females are allowed a month's cessation from field labour, before and after confinement. But it cannot be denied that on some plantations nothing but actual confinement releases them from the field; to which the mother soon after returns, leaving an infant a few days old at the "quarters," which she is permitted to visit three or four times in the day. Sometimes, when a little older, infants are brought into the field, under the care of an old nurse, to save the time which the mothers would otherwise consume in walking to and from the "quarters." Once, on riding through a plantation, I noticed, under a China tree, which shaded the shelter-house—a rude building, in the centre of extensive cotton fields, in which negroes seek shelter on the approach of a storm—a group of infants and children, whose parents I discovered at work more than half a mile distant. Several little fellows, not two years old, and as naked asyoung frogs, were amusing themselves in rolling over the grass, heedless of the occasional warning of theirgouvernante, "Take care de snake."—Slung from a limb in a blanket reposed two others, very snugly, side by side, mumbling corn bread; while, suspended from the tree, in a rude cradle, were three or four more of this band of nurslings, all in a pile, and fast asleep. I am indebted to this scene for a correct application of the nursery song, which I had never before been able exactly to understand, commencing—