English books never fail to make honorable mention of a "roast of
beef," "a leg of mutton," "a dish of potatoes," "a dish of tea," etc.,
while with us the abundance of such things gave them, we thought, not
enough importance to be particularized. Still my reminiscences extend
to these.
Every Virginia housewife knew how to compound all the various dishes
in Mrs. Randolph's cookery book, and our tables were filled with every
species of meat and vegetable to be found on a plantation, with every
kind of cakes, jellies, and blanc-mange to be concocted out of eggs,
butter, and cream, besides an endless catalogue of preserves,
sweetmeats, pickles, and condiments. So that in the matter of good
living, both as to abundance and the manner of serving, a Virginia
plantation could not be excelled.
The first specialty being good loaf bread, there was always a hot
loaf for breakfast, hot corn bread for dinner, and a hot loaf for
supper. Every house was famed for its loaf bread, and said a gentleman
once to me: "Although at each place it is superb, yet each loaf
differs from another loaf, preserving distinct characteristics which
would enable me to distinguish, instantly, should there be a
convention of loaves, the Oaklands loaf from the Greenfield loaf, and
the Avenel loaf from the Rustic Lodge loaf."
And apropos of this gentleman, who, it is needless to add, was a
celebrated connoisseur in this matter of loaf bread, it was a
noticeable fact with our cook that whenever he came to our house, the
bread in trying to do its best always did its worst!
Speaking of bread, another gentleman expressed his belief that at the
last great day it will be found that more housewives will be punished
on account of light-bread than anything else; for he knew some who
were never out of temper except when the light-bread failed!
Time would fail me to dwell, as I should, upon the incomparable rice
waffles, and beat biscuit, and muffins, and laplands, and
marguerites, and flannel cakes, and French rolls, and velvet rolls,
and lady's fingers constantly brought by relays of small servants,
during breakfast, hot and hotter from the kitchen. Then the
tea-waiters handed at night, with the beef tongue, the sliced ham, the
grated cheese, the cold turkey, the dried venison, the loaf bread
buttered hot, the batter-cakes, the crackers, the quince marmalade,
the wafers,--all pass in review before me.
The first time I ever heard of a manner of living different from this
was when it became important for my mother to make a visit to a
great-aunt in Baltimore, and she went for the first time out of her
native State; as neither she nor her mother had ever been out of
Virginia. My mother was accompanied by her maid, Kitty, on this
expedition, and when they returned both had many astounding things to
relate. My grandmother threw up her hands in amazement on hearing that
some of the first ladies in the city, who visited old aunt, confined
the conversation of a morning call to the subject of the faults of
their hired servants. "Is it possible?" exclaimed the old lady. "I
never considered it well bred to mention servants or their faults in
company."
Indeed, in our part of the world, a mistress became offended if the
faults of her servants were alluded to, just as persons become
displeased when the faults of their children are discussed.
Maid Kitty's account of this visit I will give, as well as I can
remember, in her own words, as she described it to her fellow-servants:
"You nuver see sich a way fur people to live! Folks goes to bed
in Baltimore 'thout a single moufful in de house to eat. An' dey
can't get nothin' neither 'thout dey gits up soon in de mornin' an'
goes to market after it deyselves. Rain, hail, or shine, dey got to
go. 'Twouldn't suit _our_ white folks to live dat way! An' I wouldn't
live dar not for nothin' in dis worl'. In dat fine three-story
house dar aint but bar' two servants, an' dey has to do all de work.
'Twouldn't suit _me_, an' I wouldn't live dar not for nothin' in
dis whole creation. I would git _dat_ lonesome I couldn't stan'
it. Bar' two servants! an' dey calls deyselves rich, too! An' dey
cooks in de cellar. I know mistess couldn't stan' dat--smellin'
everyt'ing out de kitchen all over de house. Umph! _dem_ folks don't
know nothin' _'tall_ 'bout good livin', wid dar cold bread an' dar
rusks!"
Maid Kitty spoke truly when she said she had never seen two women do
all the housework. For at home often three women would clean up one
chamber. One made the bed, while another swept the floor, and a third
dusted and put the chairs straight. Labor was divided and subdivided;
and I remember one woman whose sole employment seemed to be throwing
open the blinds in the morning and rubbing the posts of my
grandmother's high bedstead. This rubbing business was carried quite
to excess. Every inch of mahogany was waxed and rubbed to the highest
state of polish, as were also the floors, the brass fenders, irons,
and candlesticks.
[Illustration: "THREE WOMEN WOULD CLEAN UP ONE CHAMBER."--_Page 43._]
When I reflect upon the degree of comfort arrived at in our homes, I
think we should have felt grateful to our ancestors; for, as Quincy
has written: "In whatever mode of existence man finds himself, be it
savage or civilized, he perceives that he is indebted for the greater
part of his possessions to events over which he had no control; to
individuals whose names, perhaps, never reached his ear; to sacrifices
which he never shared. How few of all these blessings do we owe to our
own power or prudence! How few on which we cannot discern the impress
of a long past generation!" So we were indebted for our agreeable
surroundings to the heroism and sacrifices of past generations, which
not to venerate and eulogize betrays the want of a truly noble soul.
For what courage, what patience, what perseverance, what long
suffering, what Christian forbearance, must it have cost our
great-grandmothers to civilize, Christianize, and elevate the naked,
savage Africans to the condition of good cooks and respectable maids!
They--our great-grandmothers--did not enjoy the blessed privilege even
of turning their servants off when inefficient or disagreeable, but
had to keep them through life. The only thing was to bear and forbear,
and
Be to their virtues very kind,
Be to their faults a little blind.
If in heaven there be one seat higher than another, it must be
reserved for those true Southern matrons, who performed
conscientiously their part assigned them by God--civilizing and
instructing this race.
I have searched missionary records of all ages, but find no results in
Africa or elsewhere at all comparing with the grand work accomplished
for the African race in our Southern homes.
Closing the last chapter of "Explorations in the Dark Continent," the
thought came to me that it would be well if our African friends in
America would set apart another anniversary to celebrate "the landing
of their fathers on the shores of America," when they were bought and
domiciled in American homes. This must have been God's own plan for
helping them, although a severe ordeal for our ancestors.
In God's own time and way the shackles have been removed from this
people, who are now sufficiently civilized to take an independent
position in the great family of man.
However we may differ in the opinion, there is no greater compliment
to Southern slave-owners than the idea prevailing in many places that
the negro is already sufficiently elevated to hold the highest
positions in the gift of our government.
I once met in traveling an English gentleman who asked me: "How can
you bear those miserable black negroes about your houses and about
your persons? To me they are horribly repulsive, and I would not
endure one about me."
"Neither would they have been my choice," I replied. "But God sent
them to us. I was born to this inheritance and could not avert it.
What would you English have done," I asked, "if God had sent them to
you?"
"Thrown them to the bottom of the sea!" he replied.
Fortunately for the poor negro this sentiment did not prevail among
us. I believe God endowed our people with qualities peculiarly adapted
to taking charge of this race, and that no other nation could have
kept them. Our people did not demand as much work as in other
countries is required of servants, and I think had more affection for
them than is elsewhere felt for menials.
In this connection I remember an incident during the war which
deserves to be recorded as showing the affection entertained for negro
dependents.
When our soldiers were nearly starved, and only allowed daily a small
handful of parched corn, the colonel of a Virginia regiment[1] by
accident got some coffee, a small portion of which was daily
distributed to each soldier. In the regiment was a cousin of mine,--a
young man endowed with the noblest attributes God can give,--who,
although famishing and needing it, denied himself his portion every
day that he might bring it to his black mammy. He made a small bag in
which he deposited and carefully saved it.
[1] Robert Logan, of Roanoke, Va.
When he arrived at home on furlough, his mother wept to see his
tattered clothes, his shoeless feet, and his starved appearance.
Soon producing the little bag of coffee, with a cheerful smile, he
said: "See what I've saved to bring black mammy!"
"Oh! my son," said his mother, "you have needed it yourself. Why did
you not use it?"
"Well," he replied, "it has been so long since you all had any coffee,
and I made out very well on water, when I thought how black mammy
missed her coffee, and how glad she would be to get it."