Ellen Claibourn
From:
Georgia
[HW: Dist. 2
Ex-Slave #17]
ELLEN CLAIBOURN
808 Campbell Street
(Richmond County)
Augusta, Georgia
By:
(Mrs.) Margaret Johnson--Editor
Federal Writers' Project
Dist. 2
Augusta, Ga.
Ellen was born August 19, 1852, on the plantation of Mr. Hezie Boyd in
Columbia County, her father being owned by Mr. Hamilton on an adjoining
plantation. She remembers being given, at the age of seven, to her young
mistress, Elizabeth, who afterward was married to Mr. Gabe Hendricks. At
her new home she served as maid, and later as nurse. The dignity of her
position as house servant has clung to her through the years, forming
her speech in a precision unusual in her race.
"I 'member all our young marsters was drillin' way back in 1860, an' the
Confed'rate War did not break out till in April 1861. My mistis' young
husband went to the war, an' all the other young marsters 'round us.
Young marster's bes' friend came to tell us all goodby, an' he was
killed in the first battle he fought in.
"Befo' the war, when we was little, we mostly played dolls, and had doll
houses, but sometime young marster would come out on the back porch and
play the fiddle for us. When he played 'Ole Dan Tucker' all the peoples
uster skip and dance 'bout and have a good time. My young mistis played
on the piano.
"My granpa was so trusty and hon'able his old marster give him and
granma they freedom when he died. He give him a little piece of land and
a mule, and some money, and tole him he didn't b'long to nobody, and
couldn't work for nobody 'cept for pay. He couldn't free granpa's
chilrun, 'cause they already b'longed to their young marsters and
mistises. He worked for Mr. Hezie Boyd one year as overseer, but he say
he didn't wanter lose his religion trying to make slaves work, so he
took to preaching. He rode 'bout on his mule and preach at all the
plantations. I never 'member seein' granma, but granpa came to see us
of'en. He wore a long tail coat and a big beaver hat. In that hat
granma had always pack a pile of ginger cakes for us chilrun. They was
big an' thick, an' longish, an' we all stood 'round to watch him take
off his hat. Every time he came to see us, granma sent us clothes and
granpa carried 'em in his saddle bags. You ever see any saddle bags,
ma'am? Well they could sho' hold a heap of stuff!
"My pa uster come two or three times a week to our plantashun, an' just
so he was back by sun-up for work, nobody didn't say nothin' to him. He
just lived 'bout three or four miles way from us.
"Yes ma'am we went to church, and the white preachers preached for us.
We sat in the back of the church just like we sits in the back of the
street cars now-days. Some of the house servants would go one time and
some another. All the hands could go but ev'rybody had to has a pass, to
sho' who they b'long to.
"Yes ma'am, the slaves was whipped if they didn't do they taskwork, or
if they steal off without a pass, but if our marster found a overseer
whipped the slaves overmuch he would git rid of him. We was always
treated good and kind and well cared for, and we was happy.
"No ma'am, no overseer ever went to marster's table, or in the house
'cept to speak to marster. Marster had his overseers' house and give 'em
slaves to cook for 'em and wait on 'em, but they never go anywhere with
the fam'ly.
"The house servants' houses was better than the fiel'-hands'--and
Marster uster buy us cloth from the 'Gusta Fact'ry in checks and plaids
for our dresses, but all the fiel'-hands clothes was made out of cloth
what was wove on mistis' own loom. Sometime the po' white folks in the
neighborhood would come an' ask to make they cloth on mistis' loom, and
she always let 'em.
"Yes, ma'am, we had seamsters to make all the clothes for everybody, and
mistis had a press-room, where all the clothes was put away when they
was finished. When any body needed clothes mistis would go to the
press-room an' get 'em.
"During the war mistis had one room all fixed up to take care of sick
soldiers. They would come stragglin' in, all sick or shot, an' sometimes
we had a room full of 'em. Mistis had one young boy to do nothin' but
look after 'em and many's the night I got up and helt the candle for 'em
to see the way to the room.
"Oh my Gawd, I saw plenty wounded soldiers. We was right on the road to
Brightsboro, and plenty of 'em pass by. That Confed'rate war was the
terriblest, awfullest thing.
"Nobody but me knowed where mistis buried her gold money and finger
rings and ear-rings and breat-pins. [TR: breast-pins?] I helt the candle
then, too. Mistis and marster, (he was home then) an' me went down back
of the grape arbor to the garden-house. Marster took up some planks, an'
dug a hole like a grabe and buried a big iron box with all them things
in it; then he put back the planks. Nobody ever found 'em, and after the
war was over we went and got 'em.
"Yes, ma'am, everybody did they own work. De cook cooked, and the
washer, she didn't iron no clothes. De ironer did that. De housemaid
cleaned up, and nurse tended the chilrun. Then they was butlers and
coachmen. Oh, they was a plenty of us to do eve'ything.
"We didn't have a stove, just a big fire place, and big oven on both
sides, and long-handle spiders. When we was fixin' up to go to Camp
Meeting to the White Oak Camp meeting grounds, they cooked chickens and
roasted pigs, and put apples in they mouth and a lot of other food--good
food too. De food peoples eat these days, you couldn't have got nobody
to eat. Camp Meetin' was always in August and September. It was a good
Methodis' meetin', and eve'ybody got religion. Sometimes a preacher
would come to visit at the house, an' all the slaves was called an' he
prayed for 'em. Sometimes the young ones would laugh, an' then marster
would have 'em whipped.
"My young mistis had a sister older than her. She married Mr. Artie
Boyd, an' they had a big weddin' but she loved her home and her mother
and father so much she wouldn't leave home. She just stayed on living
there. When her baby come she died, and I tell you, ma'am, her fun'al
was most like a weddin', with so many people an' so many flowers. All
the people from the plantashun came to the house, an' the wimmen had
they babies in they arms. One the ladies say, "How come they let all
these niggers and babies come in the house?" But marster knowed all us
loved mistis, and he call us in. Marse Artie he wrote a long letter an'
all the things he got from mistis he give back to her fam'ly an' all his
own things he give to his brother, an' then he died. Some say his heart
strings just broke 'cause mistis died, and some say he took something.
"No, ma'am, I wasn't married till after freedom. I was married right
here in 'Gusta by Mr. Wharton, the First Baptist Church preacher, an' I
lived and worked here ever since."
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Berry Clay
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