Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History BookOpen Original Text ues of even the most violent, and the
newspapers of South Carolina for eight years, it is said, did not
contain one abusive word. The ownership of slaves, even more than of
realty, held families steadfast on their estates, and everywhere
prevailed the sociability of established neighborhoods. Money counted
least in making the social status, and constantly ambitious and
brilliant youngsters from no estate married into the families of the
planter princes. Meanwhile the one character utterly condemned and
ostracized was the man who was mean to his slaves. Even the coward was
pitied and might have been liked. For the cruel master there was no
toleration.
The _ante-bellum_ society had immense force. Working under the slavery
which brought the suspicion or hostility of the world, and which
practically beleaguered it within walls, it yet accomplished good
things. For the first sixty-four years of the republic it furnished
the president for fifty-two years. Its statesmen demanded the war of
1812, opened it with but five Northern senators supporting it, and its
general, Jackson, won the decisive battle of New Orleans. It was a
Southern statesman who added the Louisiana territory of more than
1,000,000 square miles to our domain. Under a Southern statesman
Florida was acquired from Spain. Against the opposition of the free
States, the Southern influence forced the war with Mexico, and annexed
the superb empire of Texas, brought in New Mexico, and opened the
gates of the republic to the Pacific. Scott and Taylor, the heroes of
the Mexican war, were Southern men. In material, as in political
affairs, the old South was masterful. The first important railroad
operated in America traversed Carolina. The first steamer that crossed
the ocean cleared from Savannah.
The first college established for girls was opened in Georgia. No
naturalist has surpassed Audubon; no geographer equalled Maury; and
Sims and McDonald led the world of surgery in their respective lines.
It was Crawford Long, of Georgia, who gave to the world the priceless
blessing of anæsthesia.
The wealth accumulated by the people was marvellous. And, though it is
held that slavery enriched the few at the general expense, Georgia and
Carolina were the richest States, per capita, in the Union in 1800,
saving Rhode Island. Some idea of the desolation of the war may be had
from the fact that, in spite of their late remarkable recuperation,
they are now, excepting Idaho, the poorest States, per capita, in the
Union. So rich was the South in 1860, that Mr. Lincoln spoke but
common sentiment when he said: "If we let the South go, where shall we
get our revenues?"
In its engaging grace--in the chivalry that tempered even Quixotism
with dignity--in the piety that saved master and slave alike--in the
charity that boasted not--in the honor held above estate--in the
hospitality that neither condescended nor cringed--in frankness and
heartiness and wholesome comradeship--in the reverence paid to
womanhood and the inviolable respect in which woman's name was
held--the civilization of the old slave _régime_ in the South has not
been surpassed, and perhaps will not be equalled, among men.
And as the fidelity of the slave during the war bespoke the kindness
of the master before the war, so the unquestioning reverence with
which the young men of the South accepted, in 1865, their heritage of
poverty and defeat, proved the strength and excellence of the
civilization from which that heritage had come. In cheerfulness they
bestirred themselves amid the ashes and the wrecks, and, holding the
inspiration of their past to be better than their rich acres and
garnered wealth, went out to rebuild their fallen fortunes, with never
a word of complaint, nor the thought of criticism!
FOOTNOTE:
[45] By permission of "New York Ledger," Robert Bonner's Sons, N. Y.
THOMAS NELSON PAGE.
~1853=----.~
THOMAS NELSON PAGE was born at "Oakland," Hanover County, Virginia, of
distinguished ancestry. He was educated at Washington and Lee
University, studied law, and settled in Richmond. His first writings
were poems and stories in the Virginia negro dialect, some of them in
connection with Armistead Churchill Gordon. He is now (1894) editor of
"The Drawer" in Harper's Monthly, and stands high as one of the
younger writers of our country.
WORKS.
In Ole Virginia, [stories in negro dialect].
Two Little Confederates.
Elsket, and other Stories.
Essays on the South, its literature, the Negro question, &c., in
magazines.
Befo' de Wa', (with A. C. Gordon).
On New Found River.
Pastime Stories, [written for "The Drawer"].
Among the Camps, [stories].
[Illustration: ~Agricultural and Mechanical College of Mississippi.~]
Mr. Page delineates finely the old Virginia darkey and his dialect,
as Mr. Harris does the darkey of the Carolinas and Georgia. There is a
marked difference between them.
"The naturalness of his style, the skill with which he uses seemingly
indifferent incidents and sayings to trick out and light up his
pictures, the apparently unintentional and therefore most effective
touches of pathos, are uncommon."
MARSE CHAN'S LAST BATTLE.
(_From Marse Chan: In Ole Virginia._[46])
"Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles, an' we mounted: an' de
orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's comp'ny wuz de
secon', an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de
wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my
king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like
hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I 'long wid de res') an' up de hill
right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey had a
whole rigiment of infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our
lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz
jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch
hol' de fleg, an' hollers, 'Foller me!' and rid strainin' up de hill
'mong de cannons.
"I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths ahead o' ev'ry
urr hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an' de whole rigiment
right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust thing I knowed,
de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst de bank, like
yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. An' dat's
what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'spects. Judy she say she think 'twuz
Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. O' c'ose, Providence put de
bank dyah, but how come Providence nuver saved Marse Chan?
"When I look 'roun' de roan wuz lyin' dyah by me, stone dead, wid a
cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an' our men had done swep' dem on
t'urr side from de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, de sorrel come
gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' down on one
side to his knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' God! I 'spects dey done kill
Marse Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.'
"I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar, wid a whole lot o' dead
men, an' some not dea Previous Next |