CHAPTER IX.

THE BLACK BELT THE DEAD LION-SPEAK GENTLY OF THE DEAD!

As I came up from the Gulf States, I had crossed the Black Belt-the portion of the South most densely populated by the black race. It is not a fixed zone, running between two parallels of latitude, but surges back and forth, like an ocean current where two seas meet, now rising and rolling on, and now falling back, as if sinking away into fathomless depths below; but covering all together a vast surface, reaching half way across the continent. In this enormous Belt there are places where the blacks form fifty, sixty, and even seventy and eighty, per cent. of the population. Along this line of deep shadows lies the great problem of American politics and American history.

So rapid has been the march of events that it is hard to realize that, within the memory of men still in their early prime, this was a population of slaves; that they were bondmen in the land of Egypt, out of which the Lord brought them, though not by the way of the Red Sea! What had seemed impossible was accomplished, not by insurrections, not by massacre, but by a struggle in

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which they took no share, but of which they were to receive the benefit. To-day, as we look back at the change, there is something appalling in the stillness of death that has come over a Power that but lately held the land in awe!

But there is an old saying, honored for thousands of years, that we should speak kindly of the dead. It may seem indeed a strange moment to preach a funeral oration when the corpus vile is lying, like a dead lion, in the streets, for every ass to kick at. But it is the chivalrous custom of soldiers, not to bear even an enemy to the grave, without some remembrance of the brave deeds that he has done, that may redeem his evil career. In this spirit let us say a good word, if we can, for the old African lion that fought so hard for its life, but to which none is now so poor as to do it reverence."

The system of slavery that has now passed into history, is known to us of the present day chiefly through "Uncle Tom's Cabin "-that marvellous story, so vivid, so dramatic, so intense in interest, written with a degree of womanly feeling and pathos that at once caught the ear of the world, till it was translated into all languages, and made the circuit of the globe, filling all civilized nations with horror at the cruelties and crimes of American slavery. The book was true-that is to say, it was a possible truth; it depicted what might have been a fearful reality. All that it tells might have taken place on a plantation in Louisiana; but whether it did take place (except in rare instances), is another question. Its Southern critics say that it gave but one side to the picture; while there was another that was kept in the background, which needed to be brought forward in clear relief, to see the whole surroundings of the system of slavery.

This criticism is not strictly accurate: for no fair-mind

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ed reader can say that Uncle Tom's Cabin gives but one side of slavery-the dark side-as it contains some exquisite pictures of plantation life in the old days of Louisiana, that furnish a relief to the blackness that follows; but it is true that, while there are these vivid contrasts in the picture, yet the story is so told that the dominant impression is one of unmingled horror, and this it is of which Southern men complain as unjust to the truth of history.

Certainly the pictures of slavery that were drawn with such power, and took such hold of the imagination that they even haunted us in our dreams, were very different from the milder form of servitude known to most of the Southern people, to whom it was a part of their domestic life. The relations of the two races were the closest. The negroes were not only a part of every community, but members of every household. Though they stood in the relation of servants to their white masters, yet they "belonged to the family," and were the objects of a degree of family affection. White children, almost as soon as they were born, were placed in the arms of black nurses, who cared for them in babyhood and childhood. This constant intimacy naturally led to the warmest attachments, which often continued when the children had grown to be men and women. Whoever has known the Southern people must have been struck with the way in which not only women, but strong men, not given to sentiment, speak of the old "aunties" and "mammies" who cared for them in the years of their childhood.

As to life on the plantations, those who remember it tell us that they were conducted on a rather easy-going system. The masters were not cruel men, nor even hard men, who overworked the negroes, or subjected them to undue severity. Indeed they were proverbially indulgent, rather slipshod in business matters, and disposed to let

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things run along pretty much as they might. The planter's house, with its wide porches and broad verandas, was the centre of a little settlement, in the background of which were rows of cabins neatly whitewashed. During the day the men were in the fields, where the labor was not hard, except perhaps at the time of the cotton-picking or getting in the sugar-cane. While they were thus occupied, the women were out of doors in the sun, doing their various kinds of work, singing some plantation melody; while the pickaninnies were scattered about in costumes which, if not very neat and trim, were at least free and easy. Pass along these cottages at the close of a Summer's day, and you might see pictures indicative of anything but oppression or unhappiness. The negroes are a mirth-loving race, and the thrumming of a banjo, to the tune of some poor ditty, was enough to gather a group of these children of nature, as merry as nature intended them to be.

This is a very picturesque scene. But it was sometimes rudely interrupted. The master was very apt to find, after some experience, that the old plantation, run in this easy-going way, was run at a loss; and that at the end of the year he was in debt, and going from bad to worse; so that, to save himself, he was obliged to get an overseer, who would not lie abed quite so late in the morning, but would be up at daybreak, riding over the plantation, seeing that every hand was at work, and keeping them at it till the sun went down. It was these overseers, who were generally Northern men, to whom should be ascribed the use of the lash, and most of the severities and brutalities, on the old plantations.

In this family-comprising perhaps, in men, women, and children, hundreds of souls-the one on whom came the heaviest burden, was not the negro, nor the planter, but the planter's wife, who was at the head of the large

DEVOTION TO THE WHITES DURING THE WAR. 111

household, and supervised it all, laying out the work for the women, often cutting their dresses with her own hands, thus making herself the slave of her slaves! Nor should it be forgotten how she made her round among the cabins, looking after the sick, and not seldom kneeling by the side of some old mammy or aunty, to pray with her, and support her with the consolations of religion.

This affectionate care was repaid with gratitude and devotion. The negro race has its weaknesses and infirmities; but whatever these may be, it is at least capable of a degree of affection that sometimes leads them to forget their own interests. Of this the most conspicuous example was given in the late war, when in many cases the whole male portion of the family, all at least capable of bearing arms, marched to the field, leaving their wives and children wholly to the care of the blacks. Then was their opportunity to break away and strike for freedom, at the same time striking terror into the defenceless households. But not once, even in the darkest hours of the war, did they harm those left to their care, nor leave them to shift for themselves. Instead of violence, they gave protection; instead of neglect, they worked the fields, and raised the crops, and fed the families of their absent masters, who were engaged in a war, the result of which would be, if successful, to keep these very laborers in perpetual bondage.

But this was not all. In many cases masters sent their most trusted servants to the war, to look after the safety and comfort of their own sons who were in the army. My friend, Major Baxter of Nashville, tells me of a case within his knowledge, where a young man—a mere boy— seized as boys at that day were apt to be (whether they lived at the North or South), with a desire to see the war, was at last permitted by his father to go, but only because