It will have been observed from these reminiscences that the mistress of a Virginia plantation was more conspicuous—although not more important—than the master. In the house she was the mainspring, and to her came all the hundred, or three hundred negroes with their various wants, and constant applications for medicine and every conceivable requirement.

Attending to these, with directing her household affairs and entertaining company, occupied busily every moment of her life. While all these devolved upon her, it sometimes seemed to me that the master had nothing to do, but ride around his estate—on the most delightful horse—receive reports from overseers, see that his pack of hounds were fed and order “repairs about the mill”—the mill seemed always needing repairs!

This view of the subject, however, being entirely from a feminine standpoint, may have been wholly erroneous; for doubtless his mind was burdened with financial matters too weighty to be grasped and comprehended by our sex.

Nevertheless, the mistress held complete sway in her own domain; and that this fact was recognized will be shown by the following incident:

A gentleman—an intelligent and successful lawyer—one day discovering a negro boy in some mischief about his house, and determining forthwith to chastise him, took him in the yard for that purpose. Breaking a small switch, and in the act of “coming down with it” upon the boy, he asked: “Do you know, sir, who is master on my place?”

“Yes, sir!” quickly replied the boy. “Miss Charlotte, sir!”

Throwing aside the switch, the gentleman ran in the house, laughed a half hour, and thus ended his only experiment at interfering in his wife’s domain.

His wife, “Miss Charlotte,” as the negroes called her, was gentle and indulgent to a fault, which made the incident more amusing.

It may appear singular, yet it is true, that our women, although having sufficient self-possession at home, and accustomed there to command on a large scale, became painfully timid if ever they found themselves in a promiscuous or public assemblage—shrinking from everything like publicity.

Still, these women, to whom a whole plantation looked up for guidance and instruction, could not fail to feel a certain consciousness of superiority, which, although never displayed or asserted in manner, became a part of themselves. They were distinguishable everywhere—for what reason, exactly, I have never been able to find out—for their manners were too quiet to attract attention. Yet a Captain on a Mississippi steamboat said to me: “I always know a Virginia lady as soon as she steps on my boat.”

“How do you know?” I asked, supposing he would say: “By their plain style of dress and antiquated breastpins.”

Said he: “I’ve been running a boat from Cincinnati to New Orleans for twenty-five years, and often have three hundred passengers from various parts of the world. But if there is a Virginia lady among them, I find it out in half an hour. They take things quietly, and don’t complain. Do you see that English lady over there? Well, she has been complaining all the way up the Mississippi river. Nobody can please her. The cabin-maid and steward are worn out with trying to please her. She says it is because the mosquitoes bit her so badly coming through Louisiana. But we are almost at Cincinnati now; haven’t seen a mosquito for a week, and she is still complaining!”

“Then,” he continued, “the Virginia ladies look as if they could not push about for themselves, and for this reason I always feel like giving them more attention than the other passengers.”

“We are inexperienced travelers,” I replied.

And these remarks of the Captain convinced me—I had thought it before—that Virginia women should never undertake to travel, but content themselves with staying at home. However, such restriction would have been unfair, unless they had felt like the Parisian who, when asked why the Parisians never traveled, replied: “Because all the world comes to Paris!”

Indeed, a Virginian had an opportunity of seeing much choice society at home; for our watering places attracted the best people from other States, who often visited us at our houses.

On the Mississippi boat to which I have alluded, it was remarked that the negro servants paid the Southerners more constant and deferential attention than the passengers from the non-slaveholding States—although some of the latter were very agreeable and intelligent, and conversed with the negroes on terms of easy familiarity—showing, what I had often observed, that the negro respects and admires those who make a “social distinction” more than those who make none.