University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

This day happened to be Sunday. About noon
I observed that the yard was full of negroes, each
“clad in his Sunday's best.” The old gentleman

observed it, and expressing some surprise at it,
went out to inquire the cause. Returning, he
said,

“I find that they are assembled to see you, Mr.
Napier, and you will gratify the poor creatures by
going out among them.”

I did so, and every eye was fixed upon me.
Some saw a likeness to my grandfather, some to
my mother. One by one they approached me;
and as I extended my hand to each, each bowed
himself with reverence and affection before me;
the expression only varying in each, as it seemed,
with the character of the individual. The few
words they uttered corresponded with those sentiments.
They obviously restrained themselves in
the presence of Mr. Edward Raby's steward,
though the old gentleman was much moved at the
quiet expression of their feelings of hereditary
loyalty. When we returned into the house, he remarked
on the universality of that sentiment
among them, saying he had no doubt they would
be worth twenty per cent. more to me than to
any other person.

“Nothing is more certain,” said Balcombe,
“and nothing more natural than the prevalence of
this feeling. Here is a race of men in capable of
tracing themselves beyond ancestors who, a hundred
years ago, came out of a slave ship into the
family of Mr. Raby. They know nothing of themselves
but in connection with that family, and that
connection has become, by tradtion and use, to be

regarded as one of the conditions of their very
existence. Meantime, under the influence of the
kindly affections growing out of this connection,
there has been a gradual though steady improvement
in their situation. Every old negro can tell
the young how much has been added to the comforts
of their common lot, and even those of a middle
age can remember a change in their own.
Here is cause of gratitude; and to man uncorrupted
by unpurchased prosperity, gratitude is a
natural sentiment. Benefits conferred sparingly,
and in requital of merit and exertion, never fail to
excite it. This is God's plan for securing the hearts
of his creatures. They who win their bread, though
scanty, with the sweat of their brow, eat it and
give thanks. They on whom the good things of
this world descend in showers of abundance,
sicken over their full meal, and murmur at the
Being who gave the food without the appetite
which toil should purchase.

“Individual attachments, too, spring up. The
negro woman loves the child she nursed; he loves
his foster-brother and is beloved in turn; and all
the little woolly-headed urchins love the young
master, whose favours they continually experience.
These things produce a feeling not unlike that of
Scottish clanship. The tie of blood, indeed, is wanting
in this case, but so it often is in that. But long
habitude supplies the place. These negroes are
accustomed to consider themselves of the Raby

family, and William, the head of the house, is their
Vich Ian Vohr.

“A little anecdote,” continued Balcombe, “will
well illustrate the inextinguishable affection of the
negro for his master. A young friend of mine,
whose father lived on James River, was called by
business to St. Domingo. Walking along the
streets of Port-au-Prince, his hand was suddenly
caught between both hands of a well-dressed negro.
You know the grotesque attitude with which
a negro, when much delighted, accompanies this
action—springing into the air, alighting with his
feet a yard apart, and squatting nearly to the
ground. So it was in this instance, while he exclaimed,

“`Lord God Almighty! Mass' Ned! this you?'

“My friend immediately recognised him as one
who had run away from his father a few years
before, and was sincerely glad to see him. The
negro insisted on taking him home—would hear
of no refusal—and entertained him sumptuously
during his stay at Port-au-Prince. During the
whole time the negro had no name for him but
`Mass' Ned.' He was a merry and vain fellow.
Just before he ran away his young master had received
an ensign's commission in the militia, and
bought a splendid uniform. This had taken Cuffy's
fancy, and one of the first aspirations of his
recovered freedom was a like distinction. In this
he had been so successful as to have the right to
wear two epaulets. Of these he was very proud;

and recollecting the commencement of Mass' Ned's
military career, he suddenly asked,

“`Mass' Ned, what rank you now?'

“`I am a captain,' said my friend.

“`Oh Lord!' cried the negro, exultingly, `I rank
you all to hell!—I major.'

“It seems strange, too,” said I, “that a natural
impatience of inferiority does not exacerbate the
feelings of these poor creatures, and especially
against the particular individuals by whom they
are kept under.”

“It would be so,” said Balcombe, “if that inferiority
were in condition only. But, right or wrong,
they feel themselves inferior in point of fact, and
there is therefore nothing to prevent the formation
of that strong tie which is spun out of the interchange
of service and protection. This, apart
from the instinct of blood, is the rationale of the
filial and parental bond. So long as the inferiority
is actual, and felt to be so, none but affectionate
and loyal feelings grow out of it. Whether
the negro race is inferior to the white is not the
question. The inferiority of the individual is the
thing, and this inferiority, left to himself, he will
never question. What may be the result if the
amis des noirs succeed in eradicating their sense
of this, and substituting in place of it a theory of
equality which is to abolish all distinctions, natural
as well as artificial, actual as well as imaginary, is
a question which their philanthropy might do well
to consider. That it will make them better or

wiser I must be permitted to doubt. That it will
make them miserable is sure. For my part I
am well pleased with the established order of the
universe. I see gradations in everything. I see
subordination everywhere. And when I find the
subordinate content with his actual condition, and
recognising his place in the scale of being as that
to which he properly belongs, I am content to
leave him there. If I raise him from his place,
some other must fall into it, and I cannot be sure
that the other will be equally fitted for its duties,
or equally happy in their performance. The difficulty
you have, William, in conceiving how a man
can sit down contented in established inferiority,
shows that the lesson is hard to learn. Yet, to be
happy in this condition, which some must submit to,
this lesson must have been learned, hard as it is.
Now, I don't see the wisdom of making this learning
useless to those who have been acquiring it
from infancy, and setting others to the same lesson
who are too old to go to school. Would it be possible,
at this time of day, to imbue your mind with
the feeling which last night bowed the head of
Charles upon your hand? By no means. Yet,
do you doubt the sincerity of that feeling? and do
you not see how highly conducive to his happiness
it would be if you were his master? Will you
shut your eyes to this because you cannot conceive
of that state of mind. Do you wonder that
you cannot conceive what sort of an animal you
would have been, if you had been born a slave?”

“But,” said I, “is it not worth while to risk
something for the sake of elevating this race in a
moral point of view?”

“Yes,” said he. “The only question is, what
is moral elevation. Do you find it in the burning
crown of Lucifer, or in the humility of the angels
who cast their crowns at the feet of God? Is
there nothing analogous to this last in the prostration
of that poor negro's spirit last night before
you, from whom he can neither expect harm nor
good, and whom he did but identify with the authors
of bygone benefits magnified by his gratitude
to a debt which his spirit years to discharge to
you. Is gratitude abject? Is self-abandoning,
zealous devotion abject? If the duties of heaven
require these sentiments, and its happiness consist
in their exercise, which of us is it that is but
a little lower than the angels—the negro or the
white man? No, William. Let women and negroes
alone, and instead of quacking with them,
physic your own diseases. Leave them in their
humility, their grateful affection, their self-renouncing
loyalty, their subordination of the heart, and
let it be your study to become worthy to be the
object of these sentiments.”

“My own observation,” said Major Swann,
“corresponds with your ideas. When you knew
me, George, I was or seemed to be wealthy and
had many slaves. All have been taken from me.
Yet while I remained in the same neighbourhood,
they never missed an opportunity to serve me in

any way in their power. There was hardly one
among them who did not force favours of some
sort on me, when I could make no return; and, if
I would have suffered it, they would have devoted
to me at least half their waking hours not spent
in labouring for their master. The world, I believe,
gave me credit for hospitality and benevolence.
I am not going to quarrel with these things,
or to begin, as too many do, by repenting of my
few good qualities; but how much better would I
have shown my benevolence, by husbanding the
means of keeping these poor creatures together,
under the light and easy yoke of a master whom
they loved to serve. There, as you suggest, is the
point in which we fail. Instead of initiating them
in the code of a false and spurious philosophy, did
we look into our own hearts and watch narrowly
our own actions, we should effectually preserve
that superiority over them, on a deep and abiding
sense of which their happiness depends; and, by
a prudent management of our affairs, we might
give permanency and efficiency to that protection,
for which their labour is, as they feel it to be, a fair
equivalent.”

Here, again, I would not have the reader to
believe that I was convinced because I did not take
up the argument with so sturdy a disputant as Balcombe,
or contest the inferences drawn by a venerable
old man from his own experience. I have
set down here the thoughts of these gentlemen, because
they were new to me, and I have never yet

seen them in print. I do not add my own, partly
because I am not writing essays, and partly because
all I could say on my side of the question,
has been better said by others, and is before the
world.