CHAPTER VI.
About this time poor old Molly, who had been a faithful servant, firstto their father and mother, and then to the present farmer Campbell andhis wife, began to lose her strength, and she was not allowed to doany thing in the domestic affairs, but nurse the little ones when sheliked, and rock the cradle. But her affection for Anna was not decreasedby absence; and when she could no longer get to Rosewood to see her,Mrs. Meridith was anxious that Anna should pay her a daily visit. Mrs.Campbell had now four more children, and it was Molly's pride andpleasure to have as many of them about her as she could, but Miss Anna,and some of Edward Campbell's children must be there also, to make heras happy as any old woman of her age could be. In visiting her, andone or other poor person in the neighbourhood, part of every day wasspent by Anna; and Bella would often accompany her, who, when she sawold Molly surrounded by the grandchildren of her former mistress, wouldsigh, and say it was just so in their country, and they were as happyand united, till the cruel white men came amongst them.
"When I was a girl," said she, "though they do call us savages, myfather was good man; he did love his wife, and his father, and hismother, and his children; we did all live in one home; _we_ work, andthe old did look at us, and tell us what to do; we did no harm toanybody. Then came cruel war; my father and all the men went out tofight: oh shocking, shocking day! I cry now to think of it! then camecruel, wicked, white men; and I sold to be a slave!"
"Oh, do not talk of it," said Molly, clasping her feeble hands together,"be thankful, my _dear, dear_ children, that you are born in England."
"No slaves here," said Bella, "but there be very many bad people,English people too; but not _all_ bad, neither are all black peoplegood. I _could_ tell a great deal--but you are happy, happy people thatlive and die in this peaceful village: I lived in peaceful village oncewhen I was a girl; I was happy then, so I am now I am old; my dearmistress very very kind to me; I shall die quiet here: no more wars,no more wicked white men; all good here: but I think of what is past,and that makes me cry. I never saw father, or mother, or brothers, orsisters, after I once taken away!"
All the children shed tears at her recital, and Molly folded them to herheart in unfeigned joy that this could never be their case. Anna andthe elder boys each extended their hand to Bella, and their countenancesmore than their words told them how much they pitied her; the youngerones wept because the others did; and Mr. Campbell when he entered theroom was surprized to find so sorrowful a party.
"Oh, father," said John, "Bella has been telling us how she was takenfrom her father and mother, to be a slave; was not that cruel?"
"Indeed it was, my dear," said he; "but they tell us now that the SlaveTrade is abolished, or at least put under such restrictions, that it isless cruel than before."
"But why can't they hire the negroes, as servants are hired here?" askedAnna; "would not that be as well?"
"Ah, my dear," replied her uncle, "men, either as a body orindividually, seldom do any thing well: but it is said the negroes areof such a disposition that nothing but bondage will do for them."
"O, master, their own conduct makes them so," exclaimed Bella; "theytreat us ill at the first, and then think we must not seek revenge, oreven to escape from their cruelty; but if they good to us, we good tothem; we don't come to them; we want to keep out of their way, but theycome for us, and buy us whether we will or not."
"It is a bad subject, my good Bella," returned the farmer, "nor can Ijustify many of my countrymen in their treatment of you; but _some_ aregood."
"Yes, some are good," said she; "but it was my lot to fall into very badhands at first."
"What did they do to you, my poor Bella?" asked John, his heart beatingwith compassion.
"Oh, they beat me, and starved me; and, worse than that, they killedmy child; or they would not let me see it after it was nine monthsold, but made me work _hard hard_ work!" Here tears seemed to choke herutterance, and the children looked at each other and their father, insilent distress.
"Get something to revive poor Bella," said he to Molly, whose weepingeyes bore testimony that her feelings were not blunted by age; "and donot begin this subject any more, my dear children," continued he, "yousee how it distresses poor Bella, and it only opens to your knowledgecrimes which I hope you will never have the inclination to commit. If,as the Scriptures declare, these people are suffering for the sins oftheir forefathers, and their state of slavery has been foretold so manythousand years, we must acknowledge all God's decrees are just, thoughthe crimes of those who enslave and ill-treat them will most assuredlybe punished."
Bella was now a little revived, and Anna proposed their returning home.
"Thank you, good Sir, for your kindness to a poor negro woman," saidBella; "my mistress will tell you _all_, but me talk no more about it,it tears my heart too much."
Molly begged her to say no more, and the children, after kissing her,promised never to ask her any more questions on so distressing a subject.
In a few days after this poor Molly died, as she was sitting in herarm-chair; and her young companions supposed her to be asleep, tilltheir mother came in and perceived her altered countenance. She was laidon the bed, and the two eldest children sent to tell Anna that Molly wasvery ill. Bella and she came down immediately, and every thing was doneto restore the pulse of life: but it had ceased to beat, and Mr. andMrs. Campbell rejoiced that their faithful servant had not suffered moreat the close of life. She had lived in their family from the age offifteen to seventy-five, and deserved, by her strong attachment to it,every attention which they paid her; and never did a master, mistress,and servant agree so well as Molly, and both the Mr. and Mrs. Campbellshad done. All the children greatly lamented her loss, and with Mrs.Meridith's permission, Anna, Bella, and Syphax attended her funeral, Mr.and Mrs. Campbell being the chief mourners. Such is a village funeral,where the parade of ostentation is not known; but the simple honourswhich are paid to honest integrity come from the heart. Every one had asigh and a good word for poor Molly, as they returned from the affectingscene; rendered still more so by the unfeigned grief of the children,and the grateful testimony her master and mistress gave of her fidelityand attachment. All the people were pleased that they were not aboveattending her funeral themselves; and that Mrs. Meridith should letMiss Anna (who was _her_ child now) follow, was another proof of hercondescension. But Mrs. Meridith knew what was due to merit, though inhumble life, and rejoiced that she had escaped from a world, where suchan acknowledgment of it would have been thought ridiculous, or at leastsuperfluous.
Anna had seen Bella so distressed at reverting to her former days, andhad felt so much herself at hearing the recital, that she feared toask Syphax if he had known similar troubles; but one day, as he wasassisting her in planting a piece of the garden, he looked up, and witha dejected air said:
"Ah, Miss, this is a deal better than planting sugar-canes, with thewhip over my head, and irons on my feet."
"Irons on your feet!" said she, shuddering, "poor Syphax, why was that?"
"All the slaves wear them in the West-Indies, Miss; I come from there."
"Did you know Bella, there?" asked Anna.
"No Miss, she came away before I did come there: she got good mistressbefore me."
"And where did you know Mrs. Meridith first?"
"In the East-Indies, Miss; I ashamed to say how I became acquainted; shebe too good to me if she has not told all."
"I never heard her say more than that Bella and you were both servantsshe brought with her from the East-Indies," said Anna.
"So she did, Miss, and thank her for it a thousand times, for we had nofriends there; poor Bella torn from all her's long ago, and I never hadany but poor slaves like myself. I was born a slave, but I did not feelthe whip, or the irons, and the cruel ratings the less for that; but Ihave been a sad, sad man, Miss," continued he; "ask me no more, and ifmy good lady ever tell you, do not hate me for it, as she has forgivenme: I knew no better then, but good de
al of good has come of it to me."
Anna was too mindful of her kind protectress's maxim, "the way to behappy ourselves is to add to the happiness of others, not to take fromit," to press for any farther explanation from Syphax, when she sawhe wished not to give it; and she looked forward to Mrs. Meridith'spromised recital with increased anxiety.
"I am afraid Syphax has been the cause of some of her sorrows," said sheto herself. "How wrong of him to distress so kind a friend! and what hasshe gone through! Oh! if I cannot add to her happiness, I shall never behappy myself."
With this view she was still more attentive to the instructions herkind friend was continually giving her, and those of the differentmasters provided for her. Accustomed to be Mrs. Meridith's constantcompanion; to read to her, and hear her remarks on what she read, aswell as to express her own, and have her judgment informed and set rightwhen she had formed a wrong opinion, it was not extraordinary that herunderstanding was beyond her years; and when little more than fourteen,her manners and sentiments were those of a woman double that age, andin many respects her ideas and knowledge was far more correct. Herconversation, also, was of great use to William and John; she eitherlent to them or gave them an account of whatever books she read, andthis encouraged in them a taste for literature it is probable they wouldnot have indulged, but that they might converse more freely with her.
Mrs. Campbell had now seven children; four boys and three girls. Theinfant which she had in her arms when Mrs. Meridith first visited themwas grown a fine girl of ten years old, and her sisters were one eight,and the other six; the two youngest were boys, but none of these hadthat affection for Anna as William and John, who still thought of her asa sister. Anna would have instructed the girls in every thing she knew,had not her uncle and aunt prevented her.
"It is not necessary," said Mr. Campbell, "that _our_ daughters shouldlearn singing, and music, and French, or any accomplishment; though forMrs. Meridith's child, as she has been pleased to make _you_, it is.Our's are farmer's daughters, and I hope never to see instilled intotheir minds a desire to be otherways; which might be the case were theyto know a little, of what _you_ I hope know enough to justly appreciateits value; and which is not worth anything, unless it enables you toamuse Mrs. Meridith, and to pass through the world with more credit toher, as her adopted daughter, than you could have done, had you beenill-bred and illiterate. But let my children never have an idea oflearning accomplishments, for they can never be useful to them. Everything which can make them sensible companions they shall know, as far asbooks, and my ideas of education will permit; and should you continueto live here as your kind patroness has done, I hope you will not findthem unworthy of your friendship, or less agreeable companions than Mrs.Meridith, has condescended to say she has found their mother."
Anna could not but allow the justice of his remark; and while she sawhow little he thought of those acquirements, which most young ladies areproud of possessing, she imperceptibly learnt how far she ought to valuethem in herself. She could not say her cousins were the happier for_not_ knowing them, since she had not found them causes of unhappinessin herself: the idea of affording Mrs. Meridith amusement, or adding toher pleasure, gave a zest to her attainments; but this was a motive hercousins could not have, since their father and mother did not desire it.
"I will not say then," thought she, "that they cannot be happy withoutthem, but it is all best as it is; it is right I should endeavour toattain them, and that they should _not_: thus shall we be each fittedfor our separate stations."