I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly, page 4
Maybe that’s why Nancy is afraid to go with her mother. Still, if my mother or father or anybody comes to claim me, I will go. For I know I mean no more to Ma’am and Sir than the other objects they own. The only difference with me is that I can walk and talk, and not so good at that either.
Sunday, May 14, 1865
Morning
Dear Friend,
I thought that the Lord’s Day would never come. I have not had one moment alone to write to you. Everyone except Sir is going to church — even the baby. Mister Joe is waiting outside the gate with the carriage. I am hiding here in my chamber (storeroom) as I did last Sunday, until everyone is gone.
Sir remains in the library so I cannot go in there. I have decided to worship in the bush arbor with Ruth, Cook, and the field hands. Maybe I am not free to leave the plantation, but I am free to go to the bush arbor. Will Ruth and Cook think it strange to see me there? I wonder.
I will write to you this evening and tell you what the arbor is like. I hope Douglass is there.
Evening
The world has gone crazy. Cook is leaving and everything is a mess. I must go to help Ruth serve the family their dinner.
Monday, May 15, 1865
Dear Friend,
It is so strange now without Cook. I wondered yesterday why she didn’t go to the bush arbor as she usually did on Sundays. I couldn’t go either because she told me to cut up the meat for pepper pot stew. When Ma’am and Sir came from church, Cook went to The House. I knew something was wrong. Cook rarely went to The House.
A few moments later, she returned to the kitchen shed. Ma’am and Sir, looking upset, rushed in after her.
I’ve never seen Ma’am so begging. I was surprised that she didn’t fly into one of her red rages. Her voice cracked as she spoke. She said, “You have been the best of servants. My mother depended upon you, and you made her last days comfortable. We all relied on you when anyone was ill. You nursed me through four confinements. Please, Susan, don’t leave us.” (Susan is Cook’s real name.)
Sir told Cook that he would pay her twice what her new employers were going to give her. Cook refused. “If I stay in this house where I been a slave, I’ll never know I’m free. This here stew I made should last a couple of days till you get another cook.” She turned around and, without another word or a smile, walked away from the kitchen shed with a small bundle of her belongings balanced on her head.
I limped across the lawn behind her. It was my last chance to ask her about my history. I tried mightily not to stammer as I called to her.
She frowned. “Come on, gal. Stop hooting like a owl. Say what you want to say.”
I finally got it out. But she doesn’t know who my mother is. She said I came here with a new passel of slaves Sir bought. There was only men in the bunch and me. One of the men was holding me. She didn’t think he was my pa, and she said my mother probably died somewhere along the way. Ma’am brought me to The House and Cook brought me back from near death. Then one of the old women in the quarters kept me, but I took sick again and Ma’am carried me back to The House. I been there ever since. That’s all she knew.
“Patsy, now you forget about all them old slavery-time things what happened. It done.”
She opened the gate and took one last look at The House. I waved good-bye to her, and she waved back and smiled. I think that was the first time she ever smiled at me.
My heart is sad, thinking of a mother who may have died.
As I sit here writing in the storeroom, I can’t help thinking about Cook. It doesn’t feel right in the kitchen without her looking miserable and saying something comical about everyone. I wish I knew all along that Cook had taken care of me when I was a sick baby. I am sorry that I hated her sometimes and thought she was mean. She was just being Cook.
Will I have to leave in order to be truly free, like Cook says? Friend, is my mother in heaven watching over me? Maybe she and God will protect me if I leave Davis Hall, too.
Tuesday, May 16, 1865
Sunrise
Dear Friend,
I will not be able to stay long. The wake-up horn has blown and I must help Ruth. She is cooking and cleaning now. When I am not washing and ironing I help her. Nancy is supposed to help also. Ma’am wants Ruth to show Nancy how to cook.
Ruth said to me, “That Nancy don’t want to do nothing but follow behind Missus Davis and Sarah.” When Ruth tried to show Nancy how to knead the biscuit dough, Nancy told Ruth that Mistress was training her to be a fine ladies’ maid, not a cook. I thought Ruth would throw the skillet at Nancy’s head.
I didn’t think I could miss Cook so much.
One more thing, Nancy had the nerve to say that I don’t get the clothes as clean as Miriam did.
I stammered out for her to clean them herself. She left the kitchen before I finished my sentence. I was glad I spoke up anyhow, even if she didn’t hear all of it.
Wednesday, May 17, 1865
Dear Friend,
Green sprouts dot the cotton, corn, and potato fields. The best thing that happened today was that Nancy got a spanking. Ruth had to clean in The House this morning so Nancy had to make the biscuits. Ma’am came in the kitchen to make sure Nancy was kneading the dough properly. When did Ma’am learn how to knead dough? I wonder.
I had to lower my face so Nancy wouldn’t see me laughing at those hard lumpy biscuits she made. I knew Sir would have a fit. One bite and he almost broke a tooth. He told Ma’am, “You can’t show these girls how to make a decent biscuit?”
Ma’am couldn’t hold her sharp tongue. “I was raised to be a lady, not a cook.” She told him to hire a cook from among the field hands and he shouted that he couldn’t spare any of them. “The only thing between us and poverty are them field hands,” he thundered. Made me jump, too, and he wasn’t even fussing at me. Ma’am got so angry, she cussed Yankees and black people and gave Nancy a spanking.
I bet Nancy wishes now that she’d paid some mind when Ruth was showing her how to knead dough, and I bet she wishes she’d left with her own mother.
Thursday, May 18, 1865
Dear Friend,
I am dead tired. I spent the entire day ironing because I had to do Sir’s shirts over again. He said they were wrinkled. But I was able to dust in the library and snuck a peek at Goody Two-Shoes. I love the part where she teaches herself how to read and then teaches all of the children in the countryside as well.
Friday, May 19, 1865
Dear Friend,
There was a soft, sweet, quiet rain all day. Such a new thing occurred. I saw many of the field hands walk across the lawn in the direction of the gate instead of working until sunset as they always did. None of the children or the very old people were with them. I tapped Ruth and pointed at the group. I thought they were all leaving. I looked to see whether Douglass was among them, but he wasn’t.
Ruth stopped hanging the pots over the fireplace and stepped out of the shed. She smiled, and her deep dimples made her look so very pretty. “They going to the magistrate to get a legal marriage. No more of them slavery-time marriages that don’t mean nothing.” She folded her arms the way she always did when she and Cook gossiped. “They be back.”
Ruth likes to talk and now she has only me. Friend, it felt real nice to have her talk to me in just the same way she used to gossip with Cook and Miriam.
Luke ran across the passageway from The House to the kitchen. His little round face was lit up like a lantern as he held out his hand. “Look, Mama, Mister Davis Sir give me a nickel for polishing all the shoes.” Then he turned to show me, his hand open and the shiny coin in the middle of his palm.
He gave his mother the money and told her to buy something nice for herself when they go to the store. Then he ran past the stables toward the cabins where he has other children to play with. I finished sweeping, and we both sat down at the kitchen table and waited for the married couples to return. I felt close enough to Ruth to ask where Luke’s daddy is. Her dimples and smile disappeared when she told me this story:
Luke’s father freed himself. He ran away from Davis Hall when the War began. He heard that the Yankees was freeing folks. Ruth wanted to go with him, but he said it was too dangerous, especially for Luke who was a baby.
He begged Ruth to wait here for him. But now she doesn’t know if he is dead or alive. She said she would’ve left with Cook if she knew for sure John wasn’t coming back. All she wants is for her and John to have a real marriage and for Luke to go to school.
“We still living like slaves here,” she said.
Friend, her words made me feel so very sad. I hope Luke’s father didn’t die in the War. But I don’t want Luke and Ruth to leave. She is becoming like an older sister, and Luke is like having a little brother. Maybe when the school comes to Davis Hall, Ruth will stay.
The only thing that makes me happy, Friend, is that Douglass wasn’t among those couples getting married. Will anyone ever want to marry me? I wonder.
Saturday, May 20, 1865
Dear Friend,
I am tired. Ruth and I are working so hard. Nancy never helps us. She always complains that she is too busy with caring for the children, or that she has to comb Ma’am’s hair, or Sarah’s hair.
I am glad Ruth hasn’t said anything about leaving Davis Hall. Luke chattered all day long about the things he will buy at the store. I am sure he’s spent at least five hundred dollars already.
Sunday, May 21, 1865
Dear Friend,
Finally, I made it to the bush arbor! I will tell you all about it, Friend. Word for word, as I remember. By the time I reached the pond, I heard people singing, “Oh, blow your trumpet, Gabriel, blow your trumpet louder.” And when I reached the cypress grove I saw everyone sitting on logs and on the ground around a clearing. They’d created a great arbor with leaves, branches, and vines.
I was glad no one seemed to notice me as I sat down on the ground. Ruth and Luke didn’t see me. Douglass was sitting next to his mother and a young woman. I hope she is his sister.
Brother Solomon was leading the singing. When they finished he said, “This is a blessed day,” and congratulated all of the couples who had married on Friday. Then he said, “Me and my Violet have been together for twenty years. By the grace of God we was never sold away from each other, or our children. And by the grace of God we is now married like all free peoples in this here country.”
“Amens” drowned out the birds. And then Brother Solomon shouted, “We are free at last.”
Violet, short and round, added her words. “I thank God I’m free at last.”
“On this bright morning, I thank God I’m free at last,” Ruth sang out and began to clap.
Mother Naomi, leaning on her walking stick, stood up, and her words came out of her mouth with a melody. “Way down yonder in the graveyard walk,” and everyone repeated, “Free at last.”
Then Douglass sang out, “On my knees when the light passed by,” and everyone repeated, “Free at last. I thank God I’m free at last.”
Douglass sang out again. “Thought my soul would rise and fly.”
Everyone repeated, “Free at last. I thank God I’m free at last.”
I didn’t feel as if I were on Davis Hall Plantation anymore. The bush arbor, the quarters, the prayers and songs made this seem like a place apart. Friend, I thought my soul would rise and fly, too.
Douglass stepped forward and said a prayer thanking God for helping us gain our freedom and then he thanked God for Brother Solomon, “Our new boss.”
Everyone said, “Amen.”
Then Violet stood up and spoke to the people. I guess God heard her, too. “Thanks be to God we no longer slaves. Now we will get money for the cotton we grow. And thanks be to God we ain’t got no trash with a whip trying to sap our last bit of strength. We have our own Brother Solomon and lord knows Solomon can bring in a cotton crop. He been planting cotton longer than some of us been living …”
Someone shouted, “All right, Sister Violet, come to the point.”
“The point is we are not so free yet. We need land of our own. We still depending on our use-to-be Master. It’s his cottonseed we planting, it’s his cabins we still living in, and it’s his land. We need land of our own — then we free!”
“And we need a school for these children,” Ruth added.
Brother Solomon said, “We only been free a month. We need a lot of things, but we own our own selves now, and we will find a way to get everything we want.”
How different from St. Philip’s Church! There, no one talks but Father Holmes and people only sing the hymns written down in the books. Nobody makes up a song from their hearts together, like “Free at Last.” And in the arbor there was no catechism about us being wicked.
Ruth seemed happy and surprised when she finally saw me. “Patsy, I’m glad you come here to worship with us,” she said.
Friend, I don’t know why, but I felt free in the bush arbor.
Unfortunately, my good feelings disappeared as soon as I had to serve Ma’am her afternoon tea. When I placed the teacup and saucer on her table, she said, “By the way, Patsy, you haven’t been to church for three Sundays. I will not have an ungodly, wicked child in this house. You can’t be so dim-witted that you have to be told it’s Sunday and time for church when you see everyone else going?”
Friend, I closed my eyes and thought of the bush arbor, and “Free at Last,” and I found the courage to tell her I went to the arbor.
She called it foolishness and told me to make sure I was in St. Philip’s next Sunday. But I will not go. I am not a baby, and I am not wicked or ungodly. Friend, I mean to keep going to the arbor, no matter what. By the way, Friend, the girl sitting next to Douglass this morning is his sister.
Monday, May 22, 1865
Dear Friend,
Ruth didn’t feel well this morning. Ma’am told Nancy to make the breakfast biscuits. I saw the way she was kneading the dough and not putting in enough milk and I knew they’d be some rock-hard biscuits again, and she’d get another spanking. I knew exactly how to make biscuits, because Cook showed me. But I suppose Ma’am thought I was too dim-witted to do it.
I had to wash anyway and was having enough trouble with that. But as I dumped the clothes in the washpot I felt sorry for Nancy and showed her how to get the dough just right.
“How do you know?” she asked. I didn’t even answer her. Let her get another whipping. “If these biscuits ain’t right, I’ll tell Master you told me to do it this way.”
The biscuits came out just right. Nancy rushed into the dining room and then came back with all of her teeth showing, telling me how everyone was licking up those biscuits.
Seems to me that she forgot who told her how to get it right.
Tuesday, May 23, 1865
Dear Friend,
Ruth still doesn’t feel too well, so I told her that I’d do all of the cleaning after we served breakfast. She thanked me and told Luke to help me when I began the ironing. Luke folded the clothes and made sure that the irons stayed hot. As soon as the iron I was using cooled down he handed me one of the irons that was still on the hot coals.
Ma’am complained about everything — especially the way I cleaned — and yelled at Ruth for not taking care of the cleaning herself. “You know Patsy can’t do anything right!”
Ruth surprised me. She never used to sass Ma’am. But she said, “Patsy’s doing the best she can, and she is a big help.”
Ma’am turned red, but all she said was, “I’ll get Nancy to help Patsy.” I hate working with Nancy. Ma’am stayed behind us to make sure everything was done the way Ruth did it. She even yelled at her pet Nancy.
Friend, I admire the way Ruth spoke up. I want to try to be more like her.
Ma’am worries me to death. “You had better try harder, Patsy. How can I continue to care for you?” What if she makes me leave? Where will I go? I pray every day that there will be someone at the gate for me.
Thursday, May 25, 1865
Dear Friend,
I have another history to tell. Mister Joe’s. Ruth told it to me this morning. He doesn’t have a wife anymore. She died. She wasn’t free like him. He was trying to save up enough money to buy her freedom, but she was with child before Mister Joe could buy her. The baby didn’t belong to Mister Joe and his wife because, under the slave law, if a woman had a baby, that baby was the possession of the master who owned the woman.
Mister Joe’s marriage was no more real than any other slave marriage, even though Mister Joe was free. His wife’s master let her be with Mister Joe, but she was still the cook for the family, and she was still a slave.
When I asked about the baby, Ruth lowered her voice so that I could hardly hear her.
“Patsy, don’t you never tell this.” This is what she told me. I know you can keep the secret, Friend. Mister Joe’s wife never let her master know she was with child. She made believe she was just gaining weight. And when it was time for the baby to be born, Mister Joe came for Cook who delivered a baby girl.
Mister Joe carried the baby to Charleston for his sister to keep, until he could buy his wife’s freedom. But his wife died before he could save enough money to buy her. Mister Joe’s sister is raising the girl, and she is being educated in a private school for free black children in Charleston.
That’s why he stays here working so hard. He’s paying for his daughter’s education. He gets more work from these farmers than he could get in Charleston doing his barber trade. His daughter has never come here because under slave law she belonged to her mother’s master. It made me angry that Mister Joe wasn’t allowed to keep his own daughter. But all that is over now. Will she come to visit? I wonder.
