A Girl's Life In Virginia Before The War - free ebook by Letitia M. Burwell

A GIRL'S LIFE IN VIRGINIA BEFORE THE WAR

" AN EVENING PARTY "— Page 115....

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A GIRL'S LIFE IN VIRGINIA BEFORE THE WAR

BY Letitia M. Burwell WITH SIXTEEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY William A. McCullough AND Jules Turcas Second Edition New York FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1895, by Frederick A. Stokes Company....

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DEDICATION.

Dedicated to my nieces, who will find in English and American publications such expressions applied to their ancestors as: "cruel slave-owners"; "inhuman wretches"; "southern taskmasters"; "dealers in human souls," etc. From these they will naturally recoil with horror. My own life would have been embittered had I believed myself to be descended from such monsters; and that those who come after us may know the truth, I wish to leave a record of plantation life as it was. The truth may thus be pr

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CHAPTER I.

That my birthplace should have been a Virginia plantation, my lot in life cast on a Virginia plantation, my ancestors, for nine generations, owners of Virginia plantations, remain facts mysterious and inexplicable but to Him who determined the bounds of our habitations, and said: "Be still, and know that I am God." Confined exclusively to a Virginia plantation during my earliest childhood, I believed the world one vast plantation bounded by negro quarters. Rows of white cabins with gardens attac

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CHAPTER II.

It was a long time before it dawned upon my mind that there were places and people different from these. The plantations we visited seemed exactly like ours. The same hospitality was everywhere; the same kindliness existed between the white family and the blacks. Confined exclusively to plantation scenes, the most trifling incidents impressed themselves indelibly upon me. One day, while my mother was in the yard attending to the planting of some shrubbery, we saw approaching an old, feeble negro

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CHAPTER III.

As soon as my sister and myself had learned to read and cipher, we were inspired with a desire to teach the negroes who were about the house and kitchen; and my father promised to reward my sister with a handsome guitar if she would teach two boys—designed for mechanics—arithmetic. Our regular system was every night to place chairs around the dining-table, ring a bell, and open school, she presiding at one end of the table and I at the other, each propped up on books to give us the necessary hei

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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, and these usually remained 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,

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CHAPTER V.

English books never fail to make honorable mention of a "roast of beef," "a leg of mutton," "a dish of potatoes," "a dish of tea," etc., while with us the abundance of such things gave them, we thought, not enough importance to be particularized. Still my reminiscences extend to these. Every Virginia housewife knew how to compound all the various dishes in Mrs. Randolph's cookery book, and our tables were filled with every species of meat and vegetable to be found on a plantation, with every kin

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CHAPTER VI.

The antiquity of the furniture in our homes can scarcely be described, every article appearing to have been purchased during the reign of George III., since which period no new fixtures or household utensils seemed to have been bought. The books in our libraries had been brought from England almost two hundred years before. In our own library there were Hogarth's pictures, in old worm-eaten frames; and among the literary curiosities, one of the earliest editions of Shakespeare (1685) containing

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CHAPTER VII.

After some months—ceasing to think and speak of New York—our lives glided back into the old channel, where the placid stream of life had many isles of simple pleasures. In those days we were not whirled over the iron track in a crowded car, with dirty, shrieking children and repulsive-looking people. We were not jammed against rough people, eating ill-smelling things out of ill-looking baskets and satchels, and throwing the remains of pies and sausages over the cushioned seats. Oh, no! our journ

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CHAPTER VIII.

Another charming residence, not far from Oaklands, [5] which attracted visitors from various quarters, was Buena Vista, where we passed many happy hours of childhood. This residence—large and handsome—was situated on an eminence overlooking pastures and sunny slopes, with forests and mountain views in the distance. The interior of the house accorded with the outside, every article being elegant and substantial. The owner, [6] a gentleman of polished manners, kind and generous disposition, a sinc

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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 dev

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CHAPTER X.

We were surprised to find in an "Ode to the South," by Mr. M. F. Tupper, the following stanza: This was true, but that it was known in the outside world we thought impossible, when all the newspaper and book accounts represented us as miserable sinners for whom there was no hope here or hereafter, and called upon all nations, Christian and civilized, to revile, persecute, and exterminate us. Such representations, however, differed so widely from the facts around us that when we heard them they f

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CHAPTER XI.

Not far from Greenfield was a place called Rustic Lodge. [12] This house, surrounded by a forest of grand old oaks, was not large or handsome. But its inmates were ladies and gentlemen of the old English style. The grandmother, Mrs. Burwell, about ninety years of age, had in her youth been one of the belles at the Williamsburg court in old colonial days. A daughter of Sir Dudley Digges, and descended from English nobility, she had been accustomed to the best society. Her manners and conversation

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CHAPTER XII.

In the region of country just described and in the counties beyond abound the finest mineral springs, one or more being found on every plantation. At one place there were seven different springs, and the servants had a habit of asking the guests and family whether they would have—before breakfast—a glass of White Sulphur, Yellow Sulphur, Black Sulphur, Alleghany, Alum, or Limestone water! The old Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs was a favorite place of resort for eastern Virginians and South Car

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CHAPTER XIII.

Among other early recollections is a visit with my mother to the plantation of a favorite cousin, not far from Richmond, and one of the handsomest seats on the James River. This residence—Howard's Neck [15] —was a favorite resort for people from Richmond and the adjacent counties, and, like many others on the river, always full of guests; a round of visiting and dinner parties being kept up from one house to another, so that the ladies presiding over these establishments had no time to attend to

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CHAPTER XIV.

From the sorrows of Miss Burney in the palace—a striking contrast with the menials described in our own country homes—I will turn to another charming place on the James River—Powhatan Seat, a mile below Richmond, which had descended in the Mayo family two hundred years. Here, it was said, the Indian chief Powhatan had lived, and here was shown the veritable stone supposed to have been the one upon which Captain Smith's head was laid, when the Indian princess Pocahontas rescued him. This historic

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CHAPTER XV.

Confining these reminiscences strictly to plantation life, no mention has been made of the families we knew and visited in some of our cities, whose kindness to their slaves was unmistakable, and who, owning only a small number, could better afford to indulge them. At one of these houses this indulgence was such that the white family were very much under the control of their servants. The owner of this house, Charles Mosby, an eminent lawyer, was a man of taste and learning, whose legal ability

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CHAPTER XVI.

This chapter will show how "Virginia beat biscuit" procured for a man a home and friends in Paris. One morning in the spring of 185—, a singular-looking man presented himself at our house. He was short of stature, and enveloped in furs, although the weather was not cold. Everything about him which could be gold, was gold, and so we called him "the gold-tipped man." He called for my mother, and when she went into the parlor, he said to her: "Madam, I have been stopping several weeks at the hotel

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CHAPTER XVII.

O bright-winged peace! long didst thou rest o'er the homes of old Virginia; while cheerful wood fires blazed on hearth-stones in parlor and cabin, reflecting contented faces with hearts full of peace and good will toward men! No thought entered there of harm to others; no fear of evil to ourselves. Whatsoever things were honest, whatsoever things were pure, whatsoever things were gentle, whatsoever things were of good report, we were accustomed to hear around these parlor firesides; and often wo

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CHAPTER XVIII.

Reviewing these sketches of our early days, I feel that they are incomplete without a tribute to some of the teachers employed to instruct us. Even in colonial days our great-grandfathers had been sent to England to be educated, so that education was considered all-important in our family, especially with my father, who exerted his influence for public schools and advocated teaching the negroes to read and write, contending that this would increase their value as well as their intelligence. Dete

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CHAPTER XIX.

The scenes connected with the late war will recall to the mind of every Southern man and woman the name of Robert E. Lee—a name which will be loved and revered as long as home or fireside remains in old Virginia, and which sets the crowning glory on the list of illustrious men from plantation homes. Admiration and enthusiasm naturally belong to victory, but the man must be rare indeed who in defeat, like General Lee, receives the applause of his countrymen. It was not alone his valor, his handso

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CHAPTER XX.

All plantation reminiscences resemble a certain patchwork, made when we were children, of bright pieces joined with black squares. The black squares were not pretty, but if left out the character of the quilt was lost. And so with the black faces—if left out of our home pictures of the past, the character of the picture is destroyed. What I have written is a simple record of facts in my experience, without an imaginary scene or character; intended for the descendants of those who owned slaves in

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