A Girl's Life in Virginia before the War Part 11

Elkwood, like many other old homes, was burned by the Northern army in 1862, and not a tree or flower remains to mark the spot that for so many years was the abode of hospitality and good cheer.

In connection with Culpeper County, it is due here to state that it excelled all others in ancient and dilapidated buggies and carriages, seeming to be a regular infirmary for all the disabled vehicles of the Old Dominion. Here their age and infirmities received every care and consideration, being propped up, tied up, and bandaged up in every conceivable manner; and, strangest of all, rarely depositing their occupants in the road, which was prevented by cautious old gentlemen riding alongside, who, watching for and discovering the weakest points, stopped and securely tied up fractured parts with bits of twine, rope, or chain always carried in buggy-or carriage-boxes for that purpose. These surgical operations, although not ornamental, strengthened and sustained these venerable vehicles, and produced a miraculous longevity.

Many more sketches might be given of pleasant country homes--themes worthy a better pen than mine; for Brandon, Westover, Shirley, Carter Hall, Lauderdale, Vaucluse, and others, linger in the memory of hundreds who once knew and loved them--especially Vaucluse, which, although far removed from railroads, stage-coaches, and public conveyances, was overflowing with company throughout the year. For the Vaucluse girls were so bright, so fascinating, and so bewitchingly pretty, that they attracted a concourse of visitors, and were sure to be belles wherever they went.

And many remember the owner of Vaucluse, Mr. Blair Dabney, that pure-hearted Christian and cultivated gentleman who, late in life, devoted himself to the Episcopal ministry, and labored faithfully in the Master's cause, preaching in country churches, "without money and without price." Surely his reward is in heaven.

Besides these well-ordered establishments, there were some others owned by inactive men, who smoked their pipes, read their books, left everything very much to the management of their negroes, and seemed content to let things tumble down around them.

One of these places we used to call "Topsy-Turvy Castle," and another "Haphazard."

At such places the negro quarters--instead of being neat rows of white cabins in the rear of the house, as on other plantations--occupied a conspicuous place near the front, and consisted of a solid, long, ugly brick structure, with swarms of negroes around the windows and doors, appearing to have nothing in the world to do and never to have done anything.

Everything had a "shackling," lazy appearance. The master was always, it appeared to us, reading a newspaper in the front porch, and never observing anything that was going on. The house was so full of idle negroes standing about the halls and stairways that one could scarcely make one's way up or down stairs. Everything needed repair, from the bed upon which you slept to the family coach which took you to church.

Few of the chairs had all their rounds and legs, and, when completely disabled, were sent to the garret, where they acc.u.mulated in great numbers, and remained until pressing necessity induced the master to raise his eyes from his paper long enough to order "d.i.c.k" to "take the four-horse wagon and carry the chairs to be mended."

A mult.i.tude of kinsfolk and acquaintance usually congregated here. And at one place, in order to accommodate so many, there were four beds in a chamber. These high bedsteads presented a remarkable appearance,--the head of one going into the side of another, the foot of one into the head of another, and so on, looking as if they had never been "placed," but as if their curious juxtaposition had been the result of an earthquake.

One of these houses is said to have been greatly improved in appearance during the war by the pa.s.sage of a cannon-ball through the upper story, where a window had been needed for many years.

But the owners of these places were so genuinely good, one could not complain of them, even for such carelessness. For everybody was welcome to everything. You might stop the plows if you wanted a horse, or take the carriage and drive for a week's journey, and, in short, impose upon these good people in every conceivable way.

Yet, in spite of this topsy-turvy management--a strange fact connected with such places--they invariably had good light-bread, good mutton, and the usual abundance on their tables.

We suppose it must have been a recollection of such plantations which induced the negro to exclaim, on hearing another sing "Ole Virginny Nubber Tire": "Umph! ole Virginny nubber tire, kase she nubber done nuthin' fur to furtigue herself!"

CHAPTER XV.

Confining these reminiscences strictly to plantation life, no mention has been made of the families we knew and visited in some of our cities, whose kindness to their slaves was unmistakable, and who, owning only a small number, could better afford to indulge them.

At one of these houses this indulgence was such that the white family were very much under the control of their servants.

The owner of this house, Charles Mosby, an eminent lawyer, was a man of taste and learning, whose legal ability attracted many admirers, and whose refinement, culture, and generous nature won enthusiastic friends.

Although considered the owner of his house, it was a mistake, if ownership means the right to govern one's own property; for beyond his law-papers, library, and the privilege of paying all the bills, this gentleman had no "rights" there whatever, his house, kitchen, and premises being under the entire command of "Aunt f.a.n.n.y," the cook, a huge mulatto woman, whose word was law, and whose voice thundered abuse if any dared to disobey her.

The master, mistress, family, and visitors all stood in awe of Aunt f.a.n.n.y, and yet could not do without her, for she made unapproachable light-bread and conducted the affairs of the place with distinguished ability.

Her own house was in the yard, and had been built especially for her convenience. Her furniture was polished mahogany, and she kept most delicious preserves, pickles, and sweetmeats of her own manufacture, with which to regale her friends and favorites. As we came under that head, we were often treated when we went in to see her after her day's work was over, or on Sundays.

Although she "raved and stormed" considerably--which she told us she was "obliged to do, honey, to keep things straight"--she had the tenderest regard for her master and mistress, and often said: "If it warn't for _me_, they'd have nuthin' in the world, and things here would go to destruction."

So Aunt f.a.n.n.y "kept up this family," as she said, for many years, and many amusing incidents might be related of her.

On one occasion her master, after a long and exciting political contest, was elected to the legislature. Before all the precincts had been heard from, believing himself defeated, he retired to rest, and, being naturally feeble, was quite worn out. But at midnight a great cry arose at his gate, where a mult.i.tude a.s.sembled, screaming and hurrahing. At first he was uncertain whether they were friends to congratulate him on his victory or the opposite party to hang him, as they had threatened, for voting an appropriation to the Danville Railroad. It soon appeared they had come to congratulate him, when great excitement prevailed, loud cheers, and cries for a speech. The doors were opened and the crowd rushed in. The hero soon appeared and delivered one of his graceful and satisfactory speeches.

Still the crowd remained cheering and storming about the house, until Aunt f.a.n.n.y, who had made her appearance in full dress, considering the excitement had been kept up long enough, and that the master's health was too delicate for any further demonstration, determined to disperse them. Rising to her full height, waving her hand, and speaking majestically, she said: "Gentlemen, Mars' Charles is a feeble pusson, an' it's time for him to take his res'. He's been kep' 'wake long enough now, an' it's time for me to close up dese doors!"

With this the crowd dispersed, and Aunt f.a.n.n.y remained mistress of the situation, declaring that if she "hadn't come forward an' 'spersed dat crowd, Mars' Charles would have been a dead man befo' mornin'."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AUNT f.a.n.n.y 'SPERSED DAT CROWD'."--_Page 161._]

Aunt f.a.n.n.y kept herself liberally supplied with pocket-money, one of her chief sources of revenue being soap, which she made in large quant.i.ties and sold at high prices; especially what she called her "b.u.t.ter soap," which was in great demand, and which was made from all the b.u.t.ter which she did not consider fresh enough for the delicate appet.i.tes of her mistress and master. She appropriated one of the largest bas.e.m.e.nt rooms, had it shelved, and filled it with soap. In order to carry on business so extensively, huge logs were kept blazing on the kitchen hearth under the soap-pot day and night. During the war, wood becoming scarce and expensive, "Mars' Charles" found that it drained his purse to keep the kitchen fire supplied.

Thinking the matter over one day in his library, and concluding it would greatly lessen his expenses if Aunt f.a.n.n.y could be prevailed upon to discontinue her soap trade, he sent for her, and said very mildly:

"f.a.n.n.y, I have a proposition to make you."

"What is it, Mars' Charles?"

"Well, f.a.n.n.y, as my expenses are very heavy now, if you will give up your soap-boiling for this year, I will agree to pay you fifty dollars."

With arms akimbo, and looking at him with astonishment but with firmness in her eye, she replied: "Couldn't possibly do it, Mars'

Charles; because _soap_, sir, _soap's my main-tain-ance_!"

With this she strode majestically out of the room. "Mars' Charles"

said no more, but continued paying fabulous sums for wood, while Aunt f.a.n.n.y continued boiling her soap.

This woman not only ordered but kept all the family supplies, her mistress having no disposition to keep the keys or in any way interfere with her.

But at last her giant strength gave way, and she sickened and died.

Having no children, she left her property to one of her fellow-servants.

Several days before her death we were sitting with her mistress and master in a room overlooking her house. Her room was crowded with negroes who had come to perform their religious rites around the deathbed. Joining hands, they performed a savage dance, shouting wildly around her bed. This was horrible to hear and see, especially as in this family every effort had been made to instruct their negro dependents in the truths of religion; and one member of the family, who spent the greater part of her life in prayer, had for years prayed for Aunt f.a.n.n.y and tried to instruct her in the true faith. But although an intelligent woman, she seemed to cling to the superst.i.tions of her race.

After the savage dance and rites were over, and while we sat talking about it, a gentleman--the friend and minister of the family--came in.

We described to him what we had just witnessed, and he deplored it bitterly with us, saying he had read and prayed with Aunt f.a.n.n.y and tried to make her see the truth in Jesus. He then marked some pa.s.sages in the Bible, and asked me to go and read them to her. I went, and said to her: "Aunt f.a.n.n.y, here are some verses Mr. Mitch.e.l.l has marked for me to read to you, and he hopes you will pray to the Saviour as he taught you." Then said I: "We are afraid the noise and dancing have made you worse."

Speaking feebly, she replied: "Honey, dat kind o' 'ligion suit us black folks better 'en yo' kind. What suit Mars' Charles' mind karn't suit mine."

And thus died the most intelligent of her race--one who had been surrounded by pious persons who had been praying for her and endeavoring to instruct her. She had also enjoyed through life not only the comforts but many of the luxuries of earth, and when she died her mistress and master lost a sincere friend.

CHAPTER XVI.

This chapter will show how "Virginia beat biscuit" procured for a man a home and friends in Paris.

One morning in the spring of 185--, a singular-looking man presented himself at our house. He was short of stature, and enveloped in furs, although the weather was not cold. Everything about him which could be gold, was gold, and so we called him "the gold-tipped man." He called for my mother, and when she went into the parlor, he said to her:

"Madam, I have been stopping several weeks at the hotel in the town of L., where I met a boy--Robert--who tells me he belongs to you. As I want such a servant, and he is anxious to travel, I come, at his request, to ask if you will let me buy him and take him to Europe. I will pay any price."