Witness My Hand
[From the Routledge Family Papers, Freedom Library, Property of Routledge College, Matthew Thatcher, Box 1, Single Folder]
December 25, 1859
Boston Mass
Dear Matt,
Happy Christmas! Our sisters in Christ are learning their ABC! I am trying to teach Adeline to keep house but I am of the mind she never will cook or be a seamstress. I can rejoice that she is clean as Judith’s side of their room is cluttered. But O the lightness of your Judy’s biscuits! Surely the Lord provides, as Luke counsels, “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” We take daily walks for their constitution. Adeline is hail but your Judy needs fattening and coughs at times. She eats too little. (Do not worry! I am taking great care of her!) Yet how blessed I am in these girls when I despaired of never having children! Like Sarah I have my Isaac and another in my heart. Surely God is merciful and great!
Your loving sister,
Deborah
[Undated journal entry by Judith Hutchinson (?)]
dis evenin debrah brung the ink an papar she say my salvasun lay in the pin she say o judi it is yor duti to yor bredrin to rit it doun cant yu see she say my swet judi doan call me miss call me debrah an yor mat wud wont you to rit it down he love you so veri much shorly you no that an I drop my hed she swet an so kin i no i can rit now an i can so an cook but leena addie be cleenin an debrah say wat on cant do the udder can an god provid i is wel prase jesus but i com down wit the crup an scar me orful i thank on how i wont be seein my matt no more an i love him so much but then i thank on jeesus he be up there waitin an leena addie put her hans on mi hart aftur dockar say no she ant gitin up an leena addie pray an the lord heel me an i fil so bless
January 1, 1866
My Dearest Matthew
I hope this letter reaches you! We have despaired of the mail during the War and now I wish to hear from you every single moment of every hour! Today Addie and I walked having been given an errand to visit some folks and deliver good tidings of the New Year. I baked cakes for two of the elders. I do not tell Deborah that one of our charges is the grandmother of a very-very handsome Negro gentleman of the last name Routledge. The old woman has no teeth and no taste for sweets. Addie brought Mr. Routledge my cakes and told him that she baked them tho you know she cannot even scald milk! As we walked I felt the Spirit come strongly upon me lifting me up—if I did not know myself to be one of God’s lowly servants I would have thought my feet would take me straight to Heaven. I had to cease walking and clutch my basket so happy was I of that memory. I wanted to sanctify His name and began to weep and laid my head on Addie’s shoulder. It was she who’d heard the cry first on the day of Mr. Lincoln’s tidings. The gladness in the notes—the sweetness—caught me that day and then I knew. When I came to the main fare the folks were thick outside. Some were shouting with joy others weeping—it was Freedom! It was Jubilee! That night I could not sleep and when I lay my body down ingratitude visited me that I could not share this preponderance of God’s mercy with the folks back home. It has been so long! How I miss them! I miss the trees! I miss the brightness when I had a small creature’s name! I look for Father every day and ask at the Meeting House but none have seen him. I wish I could write him and tell him the news you wrote us about Granny and Mother passing to Heaven. I keep a stout face to Addie and Deborah for if I begin to weep I shall not stop. I miss them all but more than anyone I miss my sister. There is never joy in a circle only half. I am cut from my sister and it is a terrible feeling. It is near daybreak and I have labors in too few hours.
My Matthew, I miss you terribly. Please come to your darling soon.
My whole heart for you & the Lord,
Judy
Boston
June 23, 1866
Dear Matthew
I take my pen in hand to write that I am now a married lady! Deborah and Judy were in a flurry over my wedding and trying to make me learn to cook in time but all was lost. I have learned to sew a bit but do not favor the work. My husband tells me he did not marry me for food and clothes but for my kind nature and because God wishes it. Judy says she is his sister too and will cook for us all. She has taught my husband to read the Bible and I cannot help but remember how Deborah taught Judy and me ciphering and letters. The constitution of all is fair and there is much happiness.
We miss you. Visit soon.
Affectionately,
Mrs Coffee Routledge (Addie)
Thatcher Farm
Baldwin County Georgia
April 19, 1867
My Darling Judy
Tho I’ve not written please do not be angry with your sweetheart! You are ever in my thoughts. The planting season is done and the men are hardworking. I hope to get a high price in the fall for my crops. I bought two beef cows & put up five hams. Thank you for the blue shirt you made me. Your hand is very fine and when I wear it I always think of you. Well that is all.
Please write soon. I miss you so much. I shall be traveling to Boston soon my love.
Yours only,
Matthew
Thatcher Home
Baldwin County Georgia
July 30, 1868
My Darling Judy
That man is finally dead and in the ground since Sunday past. Please come home my love. There is always a place for you in this house. There is no need for worry. Please come home.
Yours only,
Matthew
Boston
February 9, 1869
Dear Matt:
I know no other way to impart this news. Your Judy is gone to Glory. She came down with a fever and never rose again. Her last words were of love for you and for the Savior but I could not be glad at her passing. If not for Sister Deborah and Brother Winfred I fear I could not last. I have not their cheerfulness in the presence of trials. There have been too many. I cherish my sweet Violet but already miss Judy! My only hope is that I shall know her face in Heaven. I am so angry at what I have endured! What God would take my sister from me so soon after my husband passed away?
I am so very sorry to give you this news.
Affectionately,
Addie
Thatcher Home
Baldwin County Georgia
March 5, 1869
Addie
My heart is breaking to pieces.
If God wills I will see my darling Judy again in Heaven.
I cannot say more. These words are not enough.
Matthew
Thatcher Home
Baldwin County Georgia
August 20, 1871
Dearest Addie
Please come home. Please Addie.
I am very lonely. This house needs laughter. Please.
My Judy would want you and Violet to come home. Please.
Matthew
Boston
October 23, 1871
Dear Matt,
My child and I shall be coming by train to Macon in a week’s time. Please wait for us at the station. I fear my heart will shatter when I step foot upon that earth again, but I shall withstand, as there is much work to be done for my people.
Affectionately,
Addie
This is the last will and testament of Matthew John Thatcher of Baldwin County, Georgia, a servant of Christ in whole mind and body. All other wills composed heretofore are null.
I appoint Winfred Hutchinson of Boston, Massachusetts, as my sole executrix and any thereafter as seen fit by him.
I bequeath the following to my servants and fellow travelers in Christ:
To Mungo Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Quaco Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Juno Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Caesar Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Athena Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in
Baldwin County.
To Obour Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Matilde Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Orpah Thatcher, cash in the amount of $50 and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Simon Thatcher, two suits of clothes, my leather shoes, my shotgun, cash in the amount of $100, and my dog (and any litters), and two acres in Baldwin County.
To Dori Thatcher, all my kitchen utensils, my butter churn, three bolts of calico cloth, one lace wedding veil, ten mother of pearl buttons, cash in the amount of $100, and two acres in Baldwin County.
The remainder of my estate is bequeathed to my family members:
To my sister, Deborah Thatcher Hutchinson, I bequeath my Bible and my gold watch and chain.
To my niece, Violet Elizabeth Routledge, I bequeath my gelding, one gold ring with lapis stone, and cash in the amount of $750.
To my sister, Adeline Ruth Hutchinson Routledge, I bequeath all my remaining cash in the present amount of $5887, one hundred and sixty acres (and any harvests planted) in Baldwin County, Georgia, my remaining books, my house, all outbuildings, all furniture, all farm tools including my plow, one wagon, one mare, four milk cows, one bull, two calves, fourteen (and counting) chickens, one rooster, three pigs, one mule, and one goat. Further, any of my possessions not mentioned herein shall be the sole property of Adeline Ruth Hutchinson Routledge.
Witness my hand and seal at Thatcher Home, Baldwin County, Georgia, this third day of October in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and eighty.
May God have mercy upon my soul.
My Black Female Time
In early December, Scooter called me. It wasn’t a shock: he’d been calling every day, leaving messages on my machine. He’d stopped coming by without calling, though, and knocking for long minutes. The second time it had happened, Mike had told him, show up again making a fuss, and Scooter would get his ass beat. Won’t nobody playing with him.
I’d stopped going out to Shug’s for our standing coffee date. I’d gone to the grocery store to buy ground coffee. My brew was strong, though not as smooth as Miss Velma’s. But it powered me through my long nights of studying. I wasn’t as lonely as I expected to be, either. I was working so hard in my classes, I had very little time to feel sorry for myself.
On the phone, Scooter asked, could he watch the basketball game at my house? I waited for his reminder that he paid the cable bill, but it didn’t come.
“Sure, youngblood. Come on over.”
Within minutes of his arrival, he asked, could I get him a beer? I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a six-pack that had been there since October. I put the pack down on the floor, hoping he would take the hint to drink a beer and leave, but after he drank one, he still sat there.
“Can you make some wings, Ailey? I’m a little hungry.”
“No,” I said. “I’m too busy for that.”
I waited for him to broach what had happened. But he only settled on the couch and clicked the remote. He let out a small cheer when his team made a free throw or a grunt of disappointment when the ball turned over. He finished one bottle and wordlessly held out his empty bottle to me. Shaking it, but I didn’t take the bottle. I watched his face for something. A change, yet there was nothing.
I stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the television.
“Scooter, are you only my friend because of my fried chicken wings and innate sense of rhythm?”
“What?” He looked away from the screen. “Is this some sort of riddle?”
I walked to the dresser and turned the television off.
“Scooter, I didn’t appreciate what went down the last time I saw you.”
“So you really want to talk about this? I would think you would be embarrassed. You walked out on me at Shug’s—”
“After you invited me to your house, when we’ve been sleeping together—”
“Okay, here we go—”
“Here we go? You actually expected your Black mistress to eat dinner with your white, racist wife—”
“Oh man! Really, Ailey? This is you apologizing?”
“Wait. Is that what you expect? An apology?”
“Yes, I do!”
“Well, youngblood, if wishes were horses, assholes would ride.”
“See this? This is precisely why I’m not with a Black female! All you sisters want to do is yell and scream and roll your necks. You love all this unnecessary”—he waved his hands—“all this drama.”
My voice rose to a shout.
“Oh, it’s like that? I’m so damned repulsive, and yet, you fucked me for almost a year! You couldn’t get enough of this! And apparently, you still can’t, because here you are at my Black female house, taking up my Black female time, and hoping for some more of this Black female pussy!”
He put the beer bottle on the table. “Look, Ailey. I’ll see you next week for coffee. Okay? Try to calm your nerves between now and then. Maybe eat something for a change.”
I took several deep breaths. Lowered my voice, channeling the serenity of my dead father.
“Scooter, listen very carefully—”
“Ailey, I don’t want to keep fighting—”
“—wait a minute. Let me finish. I was very lonely when I came to North Carolina, and I will always thank you for being there for me. But whatever this is?” I drew a large circle with my index fingers. “This is over. I did not leave kith and kin to come to Acorn, North Carolina, to do whatever this is with you. I came here to be the first African American at this university to get a doctorate in history, and nobody is getting in the way of that. Now, you need to go, because I’ve got two essays due in seven days. And I’m not messing up my perfect grade point average.”
When I walked to the door and opened it, he began pleading. What happened the last time we saw each other was a misunderstanding. Couldn’t we both forgive and forget? Please? I could tell he was hurt: there was water standing in his eyes, and I closed the door. I didn’t want a big scene playing out while cars passed on the street, or, God forbid, while Mike and Eddie watched from across the street. For a few moments, I let him beg. Let him ask, let’s sit down and talk this out. He had all night. He didn’t have to rush home because Rebecca had flown to Atlanta for the weekend, to see her parents, who still hated Scooter. They kept trying to make her divorce him.
When he tried to kiss me, I turned away. A feeling came over me. Not desire anymore, but comprehension. He had counted on my rancor, that I wouldn’t feel guilty about sleeping with him, because of the beautiful racist he was married to. And I hadn’t felt guilty, either: I’d put the blame squarely on her. It had been so easy to make her the monster of my nighttime tale, and yes, Rebecca was a complete bitch. But I wasn’t in high school or college anymore: I couldn’t blame my bad behavior on somebody else. I was a grown woman. I opened the door and told Scooter to leave.
He called the next morning. I picked up the phone in the middle of the message he was leaving on my answering machine. His husky whispering: God, he missed me so much. Please let him come over. Whatever I wanted to make things right, he’d do it.
“Hey, Scooter.”
“Ailey, hey! I’m so glad—”
“Don’t call me anymore, youngblood. Okay? Don’t call me again. And God bless you.”
I couldn’t afford cable, but I wasn’t going to offer to give back the big-screen television he’d bought me, either. It was too late for Scooter to get a store refund, and I was too spoiled to watch thirteen-inch people.
* * *
I returned to Shug’s, too. I wasn’t going to lose my Black oasis, and when I came through the door, Miss Velma rushed from behind the counter, arms outreached. After we hugged, I confided that she hadn’t seen me these past weeks because I’d been avoiding Scooter. I talked around what had been going on, but I knew she was wise.
“He’s a married man, Miss Velma.”
&
nbsp; “I know, baby. I know.”
“And so I decided it wasn’t right for me to spend time with him. I hope you don’t think less of me.”
“Aw, baby! I ain’t here to judge you.”
“I appreciate you saying that, Miss Velma. I really do.”
She told me that, while I’d been gone, Scooter had come looking for me. He’d tried to pay for my future coffee refills, in case I returned, but Miss Velma wouldn’t take his money. Instead, she offered him some free counsel, based on thirty-nine years of marriage: he should go home to his wife and try to work things on out.
And he needed to leave me alone, too. Miss Velma told him, I was a pretty girl, but it wasn’t fair for Scooter to keep wasting my time. So he should let me walk on. That’s what he needed to do, because it looked like I didn’t want to drink his free coffee no more.
Song
The Terrible Decision
Yes.
We know you are impatient to hear what happened the night that Nick ran away. We know, and we have waited to tell you.
We have waited, sipping our own grief, before recounting the rest.
That Aggie didn’t want another child hurt by anyone, and especially by Samuel Pinchard. And her hopelessness tightened, until a message from above arrived. She heard the voice of Nick’s birth mother, as clear as if Mamie was standing next to her. This was no time to turn back.
And Aggie prayed, after Nick left the cabin. He went to seek his freedom, after he had cried over who he was leaving behind. And Aggie had turned to Eliza Two, a mere child, and told her what would be required. And Eliza Two squared her thin shoulders, as her grandmother wiped oil of cloves on Eliza Two’s cheeks. Aggie’s own cheeks were wet as she took a clean, sharpened knife and cut three lines on each side of her granddaughter’s face. Marks made near the bones. Signage of unknown tribes across the water, a place of which Aggie only had dreamed. After the marks were made, Aggie used the same knife to cut her granddaughter’s hair to the scalp. Then she sent Eliza Two back to the big house, under cover of darkness.
The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois Page 68