Louisa Five

25 NOVEMBER 1860 Last month, our grandson Samuel LeBois Armstrong was born in Livingston. We stayed there for a few weeks so I could assist in caring for the newborn. The Armstrong household also accommodates other teachers as boarders, resulting in cramped living quarters.  Meanwhile, John rode out to meet with local plantation owners and continue his search for potential locations for slave chapels. While I usually prefer to discuss my grandchildren rather than politics, recent events must be acknowledged. With Lincoln's election, Greensboro is in turmoil. The Whig party divided into those who demand immediate secession and those who initially wanted to remain in the Union but have now agreed to secession, but with a delay. Before the election, the majority were in favor of waiting, but afterward, voices became more aggressive, and the immediate secessionists gained power. John Erving is their leader, and he is quite effective. Significant changes are taking place at the cotton g...

21 SEPTEMBER 1860 We joined Rufus and Miss Mattie for lunch, which turned into a lengthy conversation, but not before I got to have my grandsons climb up on my lap. John, now three, fished out a lump of sugar from my apron pocket where I always hide it for him to find.  “Where are my hugs and kisses?” I asked of them. “Who will give me sugar in return?” They obliged, giggling. We were summoned to lunch. “Miss Mattie, are Lucy and Louisa managing the cooking, cleaning, and nanny responsibilities well?” I did not think it inappropriate for a mother-in-law to ask. “They do seem to be kept very busy.” Then the solution to our recent quandary presented itself. I addressed my husband, who stared at me with an arched eyebrow. “Dearest,” I began, “I wish to go with you to visit those who extended an invitation. Sally then would have nothing to do.” “Well, darling, this is unexpected.” “It should not be. Though I prefer the country, I never thought it would be so lonely. And Sally would be ...

14 SEPTEMBER 1860 John returned late last night, exhausted from his travels yet buoyed by the progress he had made in securing locations for new slave chapels. As we lay in bed, the darkness a comforting shroud around us, he recounted his meetings and the warm receptions he received. I listened, waiting for the right moment. “John,” I began, “I have been thinking about Sally while you were away.” He turned to face me, his silhouette a soft blur in the dim light. “What about her, Louisa?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction. “We should bring Alex here to be with her and the boys. We should not keep them separated.” There was a long pause. He shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers he sought. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured. “He is needed at the factory. Every worker has their place, their role.” “Dearest,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm in the darkness, “we must consider what is right,...

  8 SEPTEMBER 1860 I am reflecting on our treatment of our servants. We think of them as family. My conversations with our neighbor, Mrs. Barker, gave me a different perspective. Though she is the wife of an overseer, her observations about the treatment of slaves are more nuanced than expected.  “Mrs. LeBois,” she said to me during one of our rides, “there are things that would turn your stomach. But I’ve also seen slaves treated better than the poor whites I knew back home.” Her words have stayed with me, echoing in my mind. I now notice the weariness in the eyes of the field hands, the way some overseers bark orders with contempt, the subtle hierarchies even among the slaves themselves. I wonder if John truly sees these things, or if his beliefs have blinded him to its harsher realities. He believes slavery will wind down naturally, but I see little evidence of that in Alabama. If anything, the rhetoric around preserving the institution has grown more fervent. It strikes me...