A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 37

"My mother-in-law is away," he answered, "but my wife and I will give you our room to-night, and we will see that you have supper at once."

At Mrs. Bilson's (the mother-in-law) I remained during the week.

At the close of the week I attended a quarterly-meeting of the Methodist Episcopal Church. When the minister invited all who loved the Lord Jesus to testify, I, with others, accepted and took part. At the close he came and inquired who I was. I introduced myself as usual.

After reading my papers from the Governor, Members of Congress, and a few ministers of Michigan, I received a number of invitations to their houses, which gave me an opportunity to relate my first day's experience in their town. They made a number of excuses. Among them was the fact that Miss Mann (Horace Mann's sister), kept herself exclusively with the colored people. She not only taught their school, but boarded with them, and made no calls on white people. They acknowledged that those upon whom I had called were not in sympathy with the Union.

Here, as in other places, were those in extreme suffering, both white and colored. One blind man, and an old white man and his wife, were too sick to take care of each other. One sick woman, whose husband was in the army, had no fire, only as the little girl of three years old gathered old boots and shoes around an old camp with which to build it.

All of these cases were relieved.

One day it rained too hard to be out. A little girl brought an umbrella with a request from her folks for me to call on them. I went and met about a dozen men and women, who wished to consult with me. The troops were liable to be withdrawn. If so, their lives would not be safe an hour. A few nights before a mob broke their windows and rushed into their grocery and took sacks of flour and meal, pies, cakes, and crackers, and strewed them over the street, in front of their grocery, and broke up their chairs and tables, and swore that no n.i.g.g.e.r should have a business place on Main Street. They threw stones and brickbats into their living rooms, and the men, women, and children ran to the soldiers for protection, with bleeding bruises that were bound up at the time of my call. A sad picture they presented with their broken furniture and injured bodies.

"What use is there in gathering more? Can you tell us what to do? You see our lives are in danger as it is. If the troops shall be withdrawn, what shall we do?"

There was a Free-will Baptist just arrived, who proposed opening a mission school in that town, and had just sent word that he wanted to meet them at their prayer-meeting. Of this I, as well as they, was glad to hear. I met with them, and was pleased with the Christian spirit of this brother, and the prospect of his school among them seemed like a silver lining in their dark cloud. We learned of his success in opening and continuing that school, which a few years after a.s.sumed the character of an academy.

The following day I took the train for Washington, and was accompanied to the depot by a number of the citizens, who manifested very kindly feelings, I was told by some to be sure to call on them if I ever visited their town again, and they would see that a weeks or a months board should cost me nothing. One man and his wife pointed to their brick house to which I could come, and be more than welcome. I left them, and soon met kindred spirits in Washington.

CHAPTER XIV.

HOME MISSION WORK.

There were many sick, crippled, aged, and blind sufferers in Washington to visit and relieve, but the severest trial I endured was encountering the virus of disloyalty wherever I went. Women were more outspoken than men, because they could dare be. Men were more subtle and appeared more pliant, only to hoodwink government. They said in secret, "We'll yet gain by the _ballot_, with the help of Northern sympathizers, what we failed to accomplish with the bullet." By order of President Johnson the colored soldiers were every where discharged and withdrawn from forts and garrisons, at the request of their former masters, only to be left to their unrelenting hate. One colored man returned to the plantation of his wife's master, and asked him if he could take his wife and children to himself, as he had means, after two years of service to support them. The only answer he received was the contents of a pistol, that took his life instantly! I heard of similar murders in this vicinity, of which no notice was taken by the State authorities.

I visited a number of large schools in Alexandria, September 14th, and was invited to address them. Two of these were kept in two of the largest slave-pens in the city. Alexandria was one of the greatest slave marts in Virginia. In the Avery slave-pen there was a dungeon-like room, designed for one standing, with iron staples to which the wrists were locked, and a sort of stocks for the feet, when a stream of cold water was pumped over the nude form of the refractory slave, from ten minutes to an hour or more, according to the offense.

They told me they had known them taken down chilled to death. It was said to be one of the most cruel punishments. They showed me the stump of the whipping post, where hundreds of writhing victims had suffered this kind of torture. But it did seem as if the better day was coming, to see a hundred and fifty-three black children here so eager to learn, and to hear them read so well after only four months' schooling. I met a woman on the street in deep mourning who was weeping. I inquired the cause of her grief. She said: "I have been to visit the grave of my only son. His father died a few months ago, and this darling son was my only child. He died in the Union army; but what does all this terrible sacrifice amount to? President Johnson is giving strength to the rebels. Every rebel general has been pardoned, and the vast amount of land restored to them is increasing their power. You see, wherever troops are withdrawn they commit murders, and no notice is taken of it.

I feel as though my son's life and thousands of other precious lives have been sacrificed for nothing." I could say but little to comfort that poor, broken-hearted, widowed, childless mother. I could only commend her to our Heavenly Father, who alone can console the widow's aching heart.

On September 15th I took a steamer for Richmond, Virginia, and arrived on the 16th at Fredericksburg. Here were standing many chimneys, showing us the waste places and burned houses in this small but quaint old city. I called at the teachers' boarding-house, kept by a good Union family, Wm. J. Jeffries. Mrs. King accompanied me to the soldiers' hospital. Here, as elsewhere, the poor suffering soldier seemed rejoiced to see and hear the representative of their mothers.

After reading the Scripture and prayer I left a number in tears.

Here was the home of General Washington's mother. I visited the house, and a feeling of solemnity came over me as we pa.s.sed through her sitting room into the large bed-room, where report said she died. Near by is her tomb. The pedestal only stands erect, but badly marred by the chisel in chipping off pieces, by hundreds of visitors Our teachers inquired if I would not like a chip from the tomb. I told them that no chisel or hammer should be applied for me; but I picked up a little piece at its base. We had gone but few rods before a carriage drove to the tomb, and the chisel and hammer were flaking off keepsakes for four men. The long block of marble designed to have been placed on the pedestal lay near it half buried in the ground where it had lain nearly or quite a century.

After inspecting the rebel earth-works and rifle-pits, I visited Miss Strausburg's school of 181 poor white children, quite unlike any colored school I had visited any where, as to order. They commenced to sneer at me the moment I entered, but their teacher invited me to speak to the school, and they became at once quiet and respectful. Little James Stone asked permission to sing for me, and he sang a religious hymn in which nearly all the school joined. To my surprise they sang the "Red, White and Blue" and "The Soldier's Farewell to his Mother,"

for which I thanked them. In pa.s.sing along the street after the school was dismissed, many of the children came out with their mothers, pointing toward me. At two places I halted to speak to them and their mothers, which pleased them very much.

The next day I visited a few Union families, who gave some interesting facts concerning their trials. I left two dollars with one sick woman, who wept as I left her. I called at Major Johnson's headquarters. He was very anxious to send on an orphan baby one year old to Camp Lee orphanage, in Richmond. He gave me a paper that would secure its admission. On arriving at Richmond I left my charge at the orphanage.

As no name was on the paper, or was given to me with the child, the matron, Mrs. Gibbons, named him Haviland Gibbons.

I visited the orphanage a number of times. The matron said the little fellow learned his name very readily. Here was a pair of twin boys, about two years old, very black and smart. As they quarreled so much of the time, Judge Fitzhugh proposed to name them Abe and Jeff, after the two Presidents. Though a strong Confederate, he said they were smarter than any white children he ever saw, and to prove his position he called them out to dance, as he had taught them to step the figure. He sang for them, and they danced to his music.

"There, I'll venture to say," he said, "you never saw two white children of their age do that. I tell you the negro race is naturally smarter than the Anglo-Saxon."

I told him I was surprised at this remark, when he had told me a few minutes before that the negroes would soon die out, because they could not take care of themselves.

"That is true," he rejoined, "and I have written a book in which I take the same position, and can prove it. They will do more work than white people can, but they lack calculation; hence the necessity of their being under the supervision of the whites." We have the planning faculty, and they have the ability to do the work. There is therefore a necessity for both races to work together to be a successful people. I repeat what I told you before, that we never shall prosper separated.

The power of governing must remain with the Anglo-Saxon race, and G.o.d has so designed. The Yankees have made a sad mistake in freeing the slave, for in time they will become extinct; but G.o.d will never suffer this state of things to remain, and you will see the South in power in two years, and the North minus the power she now wields.

I cited him to black men in Canada, who had escaped from slavery and who had acquired wealth, and to one of the wealthiest livery men in their own city. I also referred to a shoemaker who had been free but a few months.

His credit was sufficient to purchase ten dollars' worth of stock, which he made up and sold, paying for his stock; he then made another purchase and was hard at work to purchase a little home. His wife was washing and house-cleaning, with the same object in view. They told me they allowed themselves meat but once a week, and lived on corn-bread, mush, and mola.s.ses, and that they intended to live and work in this way until they should succeed.

"Does not this look like calculation?" I asked.

"I admit," he said, "there are isolated cases, but it is not the rule."

He gave me his book to read, ent.i.tled "Sociology of the South, by J.

Fitzhugh, Att'y." I found it a perfect bundle of inconsistencies. He goes into a labored argument against free-labor, free-schools, free-press and free-speech, as destructive to a prosperous people. He claimed to be a cousin of Gerrit Smith's wife, and said that they were crazy over slavery. He also claimed that President Johnson was doing all he could for them, and that through him they were going to have their rights restored. He knew of men who had gathered half a bushel of Confederate money, and said they should keep it until it would be worth as much as greenbacks. He also knew men who had bills of sale of negroes, a foot deep, that they were keeping to recover their slaves, or pay for them; and he was confident that it would be accomplished within two years. This I found to be a very general feeling among the most prominent Confederates.

On September 20th I visited a number of sick that I supplied with bedding and clothing. I walked six miles that day, and then went to the office of the Freedmen's Bureau, where I was furnished with an ambulance and driver to take things to the sufferers I had visited.

After spending several days in this work, visiting schools and giving attention to many sufferers, I returned, weary in body but restful in mind, and thankful that the friends of humanity had made me the almoner of their gifts.

On October 2d I spent some time in Libby Prison. My sanitary goods were stored in one apartment of it. The prisoners were under guards, and were permitted to a.s.sist me in opening, closing, and moving barrels and boxes, a portion of which I prepared to take to Ashland. One of the keepers took me to the long, deep tunnel which the Union prisoners had dug under the building to escape from their terrible sufferings. To look at the great risk they were running in their fruitless effort to escape, speaks loudly of the desperation to which they were driven. My guide gave me a few of the hand-cuffs that our officers removed from some of the emaciated prisoners when Richmond was taken. The doors of Castle Thunder and Libby were opened, and the hand-cuffs were placed on their cruel keepers, who had made a boast of killing as many Yankees in these prisons as their troops were killing in battle.

I went out some distance, October 3d, to an old camp, where a school was organized in an old slave-pen. Here was the stump of the whipping-post cut even with the ground. I was shown where stood the auction-block. As I listened to a history of cruelties inflicted here I did not wonder that our nation was compelled to pa.s.s through this baptism of blood. Pointing to a large plantation in sight, said one: "There lives my old master, who said in the beginning of this war, 'Before my children shall ever be disgraced with work I will wade in blood to the horse's bridle.' He did fight hard as long as the war lasted. But last week he told his two sons that they must go to work or die. He came into my shoe-shop the other day with his feet almost bare, and I took the best pair of boots I had and gave them to him. I know he thought of old days, for I did."

After talking to the children at school I visited the aged and sick.

Anthony Wilson, very aged, said, "Dun kno' how ole I is. White folks say I's more'n eighty. Had heaps o' ups an' downs; good many more downs dan ups; my big family all tore to pieces two times." I gave him a whole suit of clothes. "Bress de good Lo'd," he exclaimed, "dis is de best suit I eber had; dis I reckon is my freedom suit." Mary Brackson, also very old, had two little grandchildren with her. Their mother was sold down the river when the youngest was a year old. Her life had been a sad one. She was crippled with rheumatism, and her arm had been broken by an overseer's club. I gave her a bed-tick, quilt, blanket, and a few clothes for herself and grandchildren. Then I visited and relieved four other families, to whom I gave advice, and with the most I read and offered prayer, which always seemed to be a great comfort to them.

Two days after I took a train with supplies for Ashland. I arrived in the afternoon and met an excellent Union family, formerly from England, Judge James, whose house was battered on each side with bullets and sh.e.l.ls in the severe battle fought at that place. This town, the home of some strong political men, seemed dilapidated and forsaken. Judge James's wife and daughter were n.o.ble women, and I found a very pleasant home in this family. They directed me to the most suffering families and individuals. My first call was on Charlotte Boles, whose reply to the query for her age was, "I dun kno'; missus 'specks I's eighty, large odd." She had served three generations.

"I's had so many children," she said, "I can't tell till I call de names: Pomp, Jim, Tom, Sol, Sue, d.i.c.k, an' Dilcy; den some babies I's got in heaven. I seed heap o' trouble in my time. I nursed at de breas'

eleven of my firs' ma.s.sar's chillen, Isaac Wiston, and six of his gran'-chillen. I dress 'em firs', an' some on 'em for de grave. My secon' ma.s.sar, William Winfield, Jun., da have six chillen, an' I dress 'em all firs', and most all at las' for de grave. O my G.o.d, I can neber, neber tell de trouble I's had. O how hard I prayed for freedom, an' de Lord come at las'. I's praise his name. De one dat I nurst when a babie ordered me whipped 'case I cried so much when da sole my chillen down de riber. But I hear dat de war free five of my chillen, an' I's prayin' G.o.d to sen' 'em to poor me."

Notwithstanding her great age her mind was unusually clear, and the frequent starting tear manifested strong maternal affection.

There was not a house, yard, or grove but bore the mark of sh.e.l.l or bullet.

An exciting scene pa.s.sed before us October 15th. Young Mrs. Pollard, daughter of my host, who had became the wife of the noted Confederate editor of the most rabid paper in Richmond, had been forbidden to visit or even to correspond with her parents. Her husband said if she should attempt it, it would be at her peril. She found him to be inconstant, as he had become the paramour of a Cyprian in New York city, where he spent several weeks writing a book on the bravery of Confederate soldiers. "When she discovered these facts, with her heart full of grief, she told him the reports she had heard of his inconstancy. He acknowledged all, and entreated her pardon. But he soon became as cruel as ever. During his absence in New York she took her son of less than two years and came to her father's house, a poor, heart broken woman. A divorce was immediately sued for, and she received a summons to appear in court in Richmond. Although her father was there to receive her, she feared Mr. Pollard would take her life, also her father's, at their parting. She threw her arms around her mother's neck and wept upon her shoulders; then, sobbing, said, as she rested her head upon my shoulders:

"Mrs. Haviland, you won't leave me after our arrival in Richmond until I am with my father, will you?"

With an a.s.surance that I would remain at her side until her father took her under his protection, she left her babe with her mother and we departed for Richmond. We met her father, with whom I felt she would be safe. I find these extremes of love and hate more prevalent in the South than in the North.

On the 18th of October, after visiting fifteen suffering families, I called at the office for an ambulance and driver to go to Libby Prison for supplies. These were obtained and distributed, and such grat.i.tude from the recipients I never found elsewhere. Same of them wept aloud. A number of the women kissed my hands as I left them, and the hearty "G.o.d bless you, honey," was an everyday blessing from these poor-crushed spirits.

One of our officers came to me with the urgent request of two women, living in a large brick house, to see me. I obeyed the summons at once.

As I rang the door-bell, a genteelly dressed lady in black satin met me at the door. I inquired if there were two ladies here who had sent for me? She replied in the affirmative. By this time the other lady appeared in the hall, also dressed in rich silk.

"What are your greatest needs," I asked, "that will come within my power to supply?"

"We want money, madam," they said, "and must have it."

"Are any of your family sick?"