Southern Lights and Shadows Part 11

"Oh, I reckon not. You must have got hold of a bad one, Mammy."

"I got hole uv all uv um what is out uv wash; and them gwine. The b.u.t.tons is shackledy on all uv um, too. I wish I wuz a washer; then you wouldn't have to give yo' clothes out to these triflin' huzzies whar rams a iron over yo' things like they wuz made uv iron too."

"I suppose that you are getting along pretty well, Mammy," I remarked, irrelevantly.

"Oh, I kain' complain. I made two dollars an' five an' threppence out'n the Scott party last week; an' I hear tell uv some new folks on Franklin Street gwine give a big party, an' I'm spectin' somethin' out uv dat. Lawdy, Lawdy, Mahs William," she added, after a pause given to reflection, "hit certainly does 'muse me to see how some 'r dese people done come up. But they kain' fool me. I knows what's quality in town an' what ain't. I can reckermember perfick when some uv these vay folks, when dey come to your pa's front do', never expected to be asked in, but jess wait thar 'bout their business ontwell yo' pa got ready to talk to um at the do'. Yes, sah.

I bin see some uv dese vay people's daddies"--Mammy used this word advisedly--"kayin' their vittles in a tin bucket to their work; that what I bin see."

I was shaving during this monologue of Mammy's, with my back to her. A sudden exclamation of the name of the Lord made me start around and endanger my nose. I was not startled at the irreverence of the expression, however, as sacred names were familiar interjections of Mammy's, as of all her race.

"Ev'y b.u.t.ton off'n these draw's," Mammy answered to my alarmed question--alarmed because I antic.i.p.ated some disaster to my wardrobe.

"Hit's a mortal shame. I'll take 'em home, an' Monday I'll get some b.u.t.tons on Broad Street an' sew um on."

This was embarra.s.sing. I had twelve and a half cents in Spanish silver coin which I had reserved for the plate at church that day. I was going under circ.u.mstances that rendered a contribution unavoidable. I hated to expose my narrow means to Mammy, and said, carelessly, as I returned to my lather: "Oh, never mind. Another time will do, Mammy."

"Another time! You reckermember my old sayin', don't you, 'a st.i.tch in time saves nine'? An' mo'n dat, bein' as this is the only clean pah you got, you 'bleest to have um next week fer de others to go to wash."

Confession was inevitable. "The fact is, Mammy, I don't happen to have any change to-day that I can hand you for the b.u.t.tons." I was thankful that my occupation permitted me to keep my face from Mammy.

"Oh, ez fer that, Mahs William, yo' needn't bother. I got 'nough change 'round 'most all de time."

Mammy's tone was patronizing, and brought home to me such a realization of my changed and waning fortunes as no other circ.u.mstance could have done.

Possibly I may have imagined it in my hypersensitiveness, but Mammy's voice in that sentence seemed transformed, and it was another mammy who spoke.

I apparently reserved my protest until some intricate pa.s.sage in my shaving was pa.s.sed. At least I thought that Mammy would think so. I was really trying to put my reply in shape.

I was antic.i.p.ated.

"You know you is really 't.i.tled to yo' fif's by law, Mahs William," resumed Mammy, in her natural manner, "because still bein' bond, you could call on me, an' I don't begrudge you; in fact, Ise beholden to you."

"Not at all, Mammy. Don't talk any more about my fifth. You are as good as free, you know."

"I knows that, Mahs William; but right is right, and I gwine to pay for them b.u.t.tons."

"Well, you may do that this time, Mammy, but I shall certainly return you the money."

"Jess as you choose, Mahs William, but you's 't.i.tled to yo' fif' all the same."

I must note here a characteristic of Mammy's which had strengthened as her powers failed, namely, "nearness." The euphemism applied at first, though Mammy yielded to temptations in the way of outfit as long as she deemed herself "likely." After that period a stronger expression was required. She was always in possession of money, and was frequently our banker for a day, when, in emergencies, our parents were not on hand.

Monday I found my garment with its full complement of b.u.t.tons, but of such diversity of pattern that I planned a protest for Mammy's next visit.

But when she explained that the bill was only fo'pence--six and a quarter cents, Spanish--and that it was the fas.h.i.+on now, so she was told, "to have they b.u.t.tons diffunt, so they could dentrify they clothes," I settled without remark. Mammy's financial skill and resource in imagination condoned everything.

It is painful to record that Mammy, encouraged by immunity from inquiry and investigation, no doubt, was tempted, as thousands of her betters have been and will be, and yielded under subsequent and similar circ.u.mstances.

My affairs took an unexpected turn now, and circ.u.mstances which have no place here made it possible for me to go to New York, with the intention of studying for my long-cherished purpose of making art my calling.

I heard from Mammy from time to time--occasionally got a letter dictated by her. They opened with the same formula, beginning with the fiction that she "took her pen in her hand," and continuing, "these few lines leaves me tollerbul, and hoping to find you the same." My friend, the amanuensis, took great pleasure in reporting Mammy verbatim and phonetically. The times were always hard for Mammy in these letters, but she "was scufflin' 'long, thank Gawd, an' ain't don' forgot my duty to the 'state 'bout them fif's."

On my periodical visits home I always called upon her, and had a royal reception. I had casually said in a message to her in one of my letters that I never would forget her black tea and brown sugar. The old dame remembered this, and on my first visit home and to her, and on all succeeding visits, treated me to a brew of my favorite.

"Jess the same, Mahs William. Come from Mr. Blar's jess the same."

But we become sophisticated in time. I found that Mammy's tea lingered in my memory, it is true; and the prospect of a recurrence very nearly operated against future visits. But virtue a.s.serted herself, and I always went.

War now supervened. To it the brushes and the palette yielded. I returned home, and to arms. While all this made a complete revolution in my affairs, those of Mammy seemed to hold the even tenor of their way.

I saw Mammy every time I had a furlough, and she repaired for me damages of long standing. In sentiment she was immovably on my side. She objected decidedly to any more of "them no-'count men bein' sot free," and was very doubtful whether any more of her own s.e.x should be so favored, except "settled women."

I do not know whether Mammy had a lurking suspicion that general manumission meant compet.i.tion or not. So far as I could make out, she fared as she had long elected to do. Bacon and greens and her perennial tea were good enough for her. And here may be noted the average negro's indifference to cates. In my experience I never knew them to give up "strong food" for delicate fare except on prescription.

The next phase of my intercourse with Mammy was after the evacuation of the city and the event of Appomattox. The first incident was, with the negroes'

usual talent that way, so transmogrified in p.r.o.nunciation that it could mean nothing to them. It stood to them for a tremendous change, one which could not be condensed into a word, even though it exceeded their powers to p.r.o.nounce it.

I had come back, as had thousands of others, with nothing in my hands, and only a few days' rations accorded by the enemy in my haversack; had come back to a ma.s.s of smoking debris and a wide area of ruin which opened unrecognized vistas that puzzled, dazed, and pained the home-seeker.

By instinct, I suppose, I drifted towards my _ante bellum_ quarters. My former landlord gave me a speechless welcome. To my inquiry as to the possibility of my reinhabiting my old quarters, he simply nodded and handed me the key. The tears that I had seen standing on his lids rolled down as he did so.

The room was c.u.mbered with the chattels of the last tenant. There was no bed amongst them, but a roll of tattered carpet served me perfectly. I fell asleep over a slab of hardtack. That evening, on waking, I bethought me of Mammy.

My kind host allowed me to make a toilet in his back room behind the store.

It consisted of a superficial ablution and the loan of a handkerchief.

Mammy was not in. A neighbor of her s.e.x and color offered me a chair in her house, but I sat in Mammy's tiny porch.

This part of the city was unchanged, but I missed a familiar steeple which had always been visible from Mammy's door.

It was late afternoon when Mammy came. She did not recognize me, but paused at the gate.

"Ef you's a sick soldier you must go to the hospital; you kain' stay here,"

I heard her say before I roused myself sufficiently to speak.

"Mammy."

An e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of the name of the Lord that brought the neighbor to her door went up, and Mammy caught my hands and wept.

"Come in, my Gawd! Mahs William! you ain' hurted, is you?"

She pushed a chair to me and took one herself. For a few moments she confined herself to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of "Well! well! well!" and the name of the Deity. Then, "The town is bu'nt up; the army done 'rendered, an' Mahs William come back ragged ez a buzzard!"

I did not interrupt her. I could think of nothing to say, and began to be afraid that something was the matter with my brains. Meanwhile Mammy was bustling about, and before I knew it she had started the little fire into a blaze and the tea was boiling.

The flickering light glinted over the walls. At first I did not heed what it revealed; then I saw it glow and fade over some early efforts of my own, frame-less crudities, to which Mammy had fallen heir. They had become old masters! What centuries ranged themselves between the birth of those pictures and now!

This time tea was nectar, and after I had eaten a little cold middling bacon and hoe-cake, that she had put before me on a fractured member of our old Canton set, I took a more cheerful view of life. I believe that I would have shed tears over these poor relics from happier days, except that I was not quite conscious that anything was real that day. I told Mammy where I was. She seemed to think it perfectly in the nature of things that I should be there. Indeed, she appeared singularly calm in this cataclysm.

I encountered friends on my return to my quarters, and had invitations innumerable to meals and shelter. My costume was no drawback. n.o.body knew how anybody was dressed.