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," &c.,
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, sweet
meats, pickles and condiments. So that in the matter of good living,
both in abundance and the manner of serving, a Virginia plantation
could not be excelled.
The first speciality 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, whom, 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
ladies-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, 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--neither herself 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 never see sich a way for people to live! Folks goes to bed in
Baltimore 'thout a single mouthful in thar house to eat. And they can't
get nothin' neither 'thout they gits up soon in the mornin' and goes
to the market after it themselves. Rain, hail or shine, they got to
go. 'Twouldn't suit _our_ white folks to live that way! And I wouldn't
live thar not for nothin' in this world. In that fine three story house
thar ain't but bare two servants, an' they has to do all the work.
'Twouldn't suit _me_, an' I wouldn't live thar not for nothin' in this
whole creation. I would git _that_ lonesome I couldn't stan' it. Bare
two servants! and they calls themselves rich, too! And they cooks in
the cellar. I know mistess couldn't stand that--smellin' everything out
the kitchen all over the house. Umph! _them_ folks don't know nothin'
_tall_ 'bout good livin', with thar cold bread and thar 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.
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 can not discern the impress of a long
past generation!" So we were indebted for our agreeable surroundings to
the heroism and sacrifices of past generations, and not to venerate and
eulogize them betrays the want of a truly noble soul. For what courage;
what patience; what perseverence; 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
ineffient or disagreeable, but had to keep them through life. The only
thing was to bear and forbear, and
----"be to their virtues very kind,
To their faults," a great deal "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.
To the children of Israel God said: "I will give thee the heathen for
an inheritance." So He had given _us_ "the heathen for an inheritance,"
and however bitterly some of us deplored it--as we did--we should have
remembered that nothing happens by chance; but that God disposes all
events for some purpose of his own. We were instruments in His hand,
and if we or our forefathers were chosen by Him to elevate a race in
the scale of comfort and intelligence we should not deplore it, but
pray that what we have done for them may be a lasting benefit and that
God's blessing may follow them in another condition of life.
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 into the bottom of the sea!" he replied.
Fortunately for the poor negro this sentiment had not prevailed 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 handfull of parched corn, the Colonel of a Virginia regiment,
by accident got some coffee, a small portion of which was daily
distributed to each man. 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.
When he arrived at home on furlough, his mother wept to see his
tattered clothes, his shoeless feet and 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."