Authors: Ginny Dye
Aunt Abby joined in her laughter but then sobered. “I’ll be glad when this horrendous winter is over. I hate the idea of you walking to school. And knowing that Moses is outside working...” She shuddered.
Rose laughed again, her eyes shining. “I am thrilled to be in school no matter how hard it is to get there. Besides, it’s much better than being consumed by mosquitoes and battling fire smoke in the little clearing in the woods on the plantation. You have no idea what a thrill it is to be able to carry books openly. To have sufficient paper to write on. To learn the things I’ve always yearned to know.” She paused. “And Moses. Yes, he is working hard and is mighty glad to come home at night, but at least he is now master of his own destiny.”
Aunt Abby looked at her fondly. “When you put it that way...” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I guess all of us who have a dream have to go through hard times to reach them.”
Rose nodded. Aunt Abby had told her of the hardships she had faced when she had taken over her husband’s business. “My mama always told me you have to work hard for what you want. Work hard and dream big,” she said softly.
Just then the carriage rolled up to Aunt Abby’s house. Quickly they stepped out and dashed up the stairs. The warmth that enveloped Rose as she entered the house was wonderful. She was still in awe of the coal furnace that kept the house warm at all hours of the day. Cooking on the gas stove was a luxury she had never even imagined on the plantation, where even in the big house cooking was done on a wood stove. And the idea of running water was truly a miracle; she had spent her whole life hauling heavy buckets of water from the well. She realized that not all Philadelphians lived the way Aunt Abby did - wealth was necessary to have these conveniences, but they were becoming more common.
“You have such a serious look on your face, Rose. What are you thinking about?” Aunt Abby asked.
Rose looked at her with a smile. “I’m thinking that someday Moses and I will own a house with all these wonderful things.” Even though she was smiling, her voice was firm.
Aunt Abby nodded. “I believe you will, my dear. I believe you will.”
Just then the clock struck four o’clock. Rose knew Moses would be home soon, starved from his long day of working in the cold. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the coat rack. “I’m going up to put on my other pair of shoes. Then I’ll get started on dinner.” She turned and walked lightly up the stairs to the room she and Moses shared.
Today, as she had every day since she had arrived, she stopped when she entered the room and gazed around. It was still a marvel to her. A large, four-poster feather bed with a canopy occupied the center of the room. Two Chippendale chairs flanked the fireplace, with the Currier and Ives print above it demanding attention as soon as one entered the room. A light blue carpet picked up the same color in the drapes that hung gracefully at the tall set of windows looking out over the busy street. It had taken them a while to get used to the rumble of traffic outside their window, but now it merged with the other background noises, and they hardly noticed it. Under the window sat her desk, where she did homework by her own gas lamp. A door to the side of the room led into their own washroom complete with a bathtub.
Rose shook her head as she took in the scene. She still felt as if she should pinch herself whenever she walked into this room. She had never imagined she would share in such splendor. The other slaves in the quarters had been so jealous of her tiny room in the big house. What would they think if they could see her now? Rose chuckled as she reached for her shoes. Her friends on the plantation would not even be able to imagine such splendor. You had to see it to believe it.
Rose changed her shoes quickly and dashed back downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Abby was already there, reaching into the icebox to pull out a container of clams. “What are you doing, Aunt Abby?” Rose cried. “I told you I would fix dinner. I’m sorry I took so long upstairs.”
Aunt Abby turned and placed the container on the table. “Nonsense! You did nothing of the kind. Believe it or not, I find I miss cooking occasionally. You have so completely taken over the household work, I find myself feeling guilty at times. But I am in here tonight out of nothing but desire. Most nights I’m more than happy to leave the cooking to you since you’re much better than I; you’ve been treating me to foods I’d never dreamed about - but tonight I find I want to help.”
Rose smiled and moved forward. “What are we cooking?”
“Clam chowder seems to hit the spot for me tonight.”
Rose nodded. “That sounds wonderful.” She and Moses had grown to love the seafood chowders so common in the North. “I’ll cut the potatoes while you make the base.”
Silence prevailed in the kitchen as the two women worked side by side. Wonderful aromas soon permeated the air. When Rose had dumped all of the potatoes into the waiting cream base, she quickly cut several thick slabs of bread and pulled the butter out of the icebox. When she turned back, she saw Aunt Abby watching her closely.
“Are you happy here?” Aunt Abby asked suddenly.
Rose stared at her. “How can you not think I’m happy? I have everything I dreamed of. I’m in school. I’m free. What more could I want?”
“You could want to go back home and make a difference for your people,” she said flatly.
Rose flushed and then slowly nodded. “You’re right, Aunt Abby. I truly have everything I want here. But every day I think of the millions of blacks who could never even dream of these things in the South. My mama always told me that God gave me gifts so that I could use them to help his people. I think black people need my gifts more than any other. I miss seeing children’s eyes light up when they finally understand what I’m teaching them. It is a thrill like no other.”
“What if the South wins the war and your people don’t go free?”
Rose shrugged. She had thought about it. “I’ll find some way to help,” she stated firmly. “I have a dream of one day Southern black children all attending school like white children do here in the North.” Then she shook her head. “Not even most white children go to school there now.”
“Why not? Surely people see the benefits of children being educated.”
“I’m afraid they don’t,” Rose responded. “I used to hear Marse Cromwell talking about it with visitors at the dinner table. The high society of Virginia tolerates the idea of some education for poor white children, but state-enforced public education is a whole different matter. The planters believe that government has no right to intervene in the education of children. They see it as also trying to interfere in the larger social arrangement. They talk about how much money is being spent on the public school effort, but it seems only a drop in the bucket of what is needed.”
Aunt Abby looked up from stirring the chowder. “Whatever makes them feel that way?”
“They believe public education will violate the natural evolution of society,” she said, remembering the many discussions around the table late at night. “They think it will threaten the family’s authority over their children. They are also afraid it will damage the relations between business owners and laborers if workers are all educated. They also believe it will usurp the function of the church.”
Aunt Abby turned and stared at her. “How in the world could learning usurp the function of the church?”
Rose shook her head. “I think it’s crazy, too. And I can’t really say I understand it. Just seems to me like people call in the power of the church to stop things they don’t want to happen.”
“It’s fear,” Aunt Abby said firmly. “Everything you have just told me is nothing but fear - fear that the life they have built for themselves, and have always known, will disappear if other people are given the same opportunities as themselves.”
“I guess all of us are motivated by fear in some way,” Rose acknowledged. “I don’t think most of the Southern planters have any idea that what they are doing is wrong. It’s simply the only way they have ever known.”
“You are defending them?” Aunt Abby asked in astonishment.
Rose shook her head. “Not defending them. Just trying to understand a little bit. It helps me not to feel so bitter about all the wasted years when I can grasp some kind of understanding.” She paused and continued. “The South may win this war, but I don’t believe, even if they do, that they will be able to return to the life they once knew. Too many soldiers will have risked their lives, standing in equality beside rich planters and their sons. They will not so easily go back to their place in society. And if what I am hearing is correct, thousands of slaves are fleeing from their owners already.”
“Yes. I understand the number in the contraband camps is growing.”
Rose nodded. “And they’re going to school! Missionaries from the North are going down and setting up schools in the camps. I learned today about a free black woman by the name of Mary Peake who just organized one of the first public schools for blacks. It’s down in Fort Monroe in Hampton.” Her eyes glistened with excitement. “That’s not all that far from where I came from, you know.”
“How many students does she have?” Aunt Abby asked with interest while she raised the spoon to her lips to taste the chowder. “Needs to cook a while longer,” she interjected cheerfully. Then she waved Rose over to sit down at the table.
Rose followed her then answered her question. “Within two weeks she had forty-five students! There is no telling how many she has now. She opened the school in September. Her students are learning spelling, reading, writing, and arithmetic. Why, they’re even singing in school!”
Aunt Abby regarded her closely. “And you want to go down to help.”
Rose hesitated then answered honestly. “Slavery has robbed my people of the right to education for too long. Yes, I want to help. But not yet. I still have so much I want to learn myself before I can be the teacher I want to be. I keep telling myself to be patient - to make the most of where I am now.” Then she leaned forward and took Aunt Abby’s hand. “And I can’t even imagine leaving you right now. This may sound presumptuous coming from a black woman, but I love you very much. Being here with you has taken away some of the pain of not having my mama.”
Aunt Abby smiled and squeezed her hand. “And having you here has taken away my awful loneliness. I love you and Moses, too,” she said sincerely. “My house needs to have young people in it. I need someone to care for other than myself. Thank you for letting me do that.”
Just then they heard the front door open, and a small blast of cold air circulated its way back to the kitchen.
“Moses!” Rose jumped up and hurried to meet him. She stopped when she saw him and then chuckled. “It’s snowing again?”
Moses grinned and then began to peel off his coat. “I tried to get most of it off on the doorstep, but it’s coming down mighty hard.”
Rose laughed. “You look like a snowman.” Just then the chimes on the clock burst forth with their pronouncement of the time. Startled, Rose looked at it and then peered out the window. “It’s dark. I must have lost track of the time when I was talking to Aunt Abby. Why are you so late?” Moses was usually home before it was dark. The wagons that hauled the trash from the city didn’t operate that late.
Moses smiled then turned to hang his coat up on the rack.
“You look like the cat that just got the canary,” came Aunt Abby’s voice from behind them.
Rose nodded. “She’s right. What are you looking so pleased about?” The quiet look of satisfaction on Moses’ face, along with an excited glow in his eyes, intrigued her, yet somehow discomfited her at the same time.
Moses smiled again but merely moved in the direction of a kitchen. “Can’t a guy eat around here?”
Rose stamped her foot in frustration and glared at him.
Moses laughed then. “You know good and well I’m going to tell you what’s going on. But how do you expect a man to tell important news when he’s starving?”