This chapter will show how “Virginia beat-biscuit” procured for a man a home and friends in Paris.

One morning in the spring of 18— a singular looking man presented himself at our house. He was short of stature, and enveloped in furs although the weather was not cold. Everything about him was gold which could be gold, and so we called him “the gold-tipped-man.” He called for my mother, and when she went in the parlor said to her:

“Madam I have been stopping several weeks at the hotel in the town of L——, where I met a boy—Robert—who tells me he belongs to you. As I want such a servant, and he is anxious to travel, I come, at his request, to ask if you will let me buy him and take him to Europe. I will pay any price.”

“I could not think of it,” she replied. “I have determined never to sell one of my servants.”

“But,” continued the man, “he is anxious to go, and has sent me to beg you.”

“It is impossible,” said she, “for he is a great favorite with us, and the only child his mother has.”

Finding her determined, the man took his leave, and went back to the town, twenty-five miles off; but returned next day accompanied by Robert, who entreated his mother and mistress to let him go.

Said my mother to him: “Would you leave your mother and go with a stranger to a foreign land?”

“Yes, madam. I love my mother, and you and all your family—you have always been so good to me—but I want to travel, and this gentleman says he will give me plenty of money and be very kind to me.”

Still she refused. But the boy’s mother, finally yielding to his entreaty, consented, and persuaded her mistress, saying, “if he is willing to leave me, and so anxious to go I will give him up.”

Knowing how distressed we all would be at parting with him, he went off without coming to say “good bye,” and wrote his mother from New York what day he would sail with his new master for Europe.

At first his mother received from him presents and letters, telling her he was very much delighted, and “had as much money as he knew what to do with.” But after a few months he ceased to write, and we could hear nothing from him.

At length, when eighteen months had elapsed, one day we were astonished to see him return home, dressed in the best Parisian style. We were rejoiced to see him again, and his own joy at getting back cannot be described. He ran over the yard and house examining everything, and said: “Mistress, I have seen many fine places in Europe, but none to me as pretty as this, and I have seen no lady equal to you. And I have had no water to drink as good as this—and I have dreamed about every chair and table in this house, and wondered if I would ever get back here again.”

He then gave us a sketch of his life since the “gold-tipped” man had become his master. Arrived in Paris, his master and himself took lodgings at the Hotel de Ville. A teacher was employed to come every day and instruct Robert in French. His master kept him well supplied with money, never giving him less than fifty dollars at a time. His duties were light, and he had ample time to study and amuse himself.

After enjoying such elegant ease for eight or nine months, he waked one morning and found himself deserted and penniless! His master had absconded in the night, leaving no vestige of himself except a gold dressing case and a few toilette articles of gold, which were seized by the proprietor of the hotel in payment of his bill.

Poor Robert, without money and without a friend in this great city, knew not where to turn. In vain he wished himself back in his old home.

“If I could only find some Virginian to whom I could appeal,” said he to himself. And suddenly it occurred to him that the American Minister, Mr. Mason, was a Virginian. When he remembered this his heart was cheered, and he lost no time in finding Mr. Mason’s house.

Presenting himself before the American Minister, he related his story, which was not at first believed. “For,” said Mr. Mason, “there are so many impostors in Paris, it is impossible to believe you.”

Robert protested he had been a slave in Virginia—had been deserted by his owner in Paris, and begged Mr. Mason to keep him at his house, and take care of him.

Then Mr. M. asked many questions about people and places in Virginia, all which were accurately answered. Finally, he said: “I knew well the Virginia gentleman who was, you say, your master. What was the color of his hair?” This was also satisfactorily answered, and Robert began to hope he was believed, when Mr. Mason continued:

“Now there is one thing, which if you can do, will convince me you came from Virginia. Go in my kitchen and make me some old Virginia beat-biscuit, and I will believe everything you have said!”

“I think I can do that, sir,” said Robert, and going in the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

This was a desperate moment, for he had never made a biscuit in his life, although he had often watched the proceeding as “Black Mammy,” the cook at home, used to beat, roll and manipulate the dough on her biscuit box.

“If I only could make them look like her’s!” thought he, as he beat, and rolled, and worked and finally stuck the dough all over with a fork. Then cutting them out, and putting them to bake, he watched them with nervous anxiety until they resembled those he had often placed on the table at home.

Astonished and delighted with his success, he carried them to the American Minister, who exclaimed: “Now I know you came from old Virginia!”

Robert was immediately installed in Mr. M.’s house, where he remained a faithful attendant until Mr. Mason’s death, when he returned with the family to America.

Arriving at New York he thought it impossible to get along by himself, and determined to find his master. For this purpose he employed a policeman, and together they succeeded in recovering “the lost master”—this being a singular instance of a “slave in pursuit of his fugitive master.”

The “gold-tipped” man expressed much pleasure at his servant’s fidelity, and handing him a large sum of money desired him to return to Paris, pay his bill, bring back his gold dressing box and toilette articles, and, as a reward for his fidelity, take as much money as he wished and travel over the continent.

Robert obeyed these commands, returned to Paris, paid the bills, traveled over the chief places in Europe and then came again to New York. Here he was appalled to learn that his master had been arrested for forgery, and imprisoned in Philadelphia. It was ascertained that the forger was an Englishman and connected with an underground forging establishment in Paris. Finding himself about to be detected in Paris he fled to New York, and other forgeries having been discovered in Philadelphia, he had been arrested.

Robert lost no time in reporting himself at the prison, and was grieved to find his master in such a place.

Determining to do what he could to relieve the man who had been a good friend to him, he went to a Philadelphia lawyer, and said to him: “Sir, the man who is in prison, bought me in Virginia, and has been a kind master to me; I have no money, but if you will do your best to have him acquitted, I will return to the South, sell myself and send you the money.”

“It is a bargain,” replied the lawyer. “Send me the money, and I will save your master from the penitentiary.”

Robert returned to Baltimore, sold himself to a Jew in that city, and sent the money to the lawyer in Philadelphia. After this he was bought by a distinguished Southern Senator—afterwards a General in the Southern army—with whom he remained, and to whom he rendered valuable services during the war.

Other instances were known of negroes who preferred being sold into slavery rather than take care of themselves. There were some in our immediate neighborhood, who finding themselves emancipated by their master’s will, begged the owners of neighboring plantations to buy them, saying they preferred having “white people to take care of them.” On the “Wheatly” plantation—not far from us—there is still living an old negro who sold himself in this way, and cannot be persuaded now to accept his freedom. After the war, when all the negroes were freed by the Federal Government, and our people too much impoverished longer to clothe and feed them, this old man refused to leave the plantation, but clung to his cabin, although his wife and family moved off and begged him to accompany them.

“No,” said he, “I nuver will leave this plantation, and go off to starve with free niggers.”

Not even when his wife was very sick and dying could he be persuaded to go off and stay one night with her. He had long been too old to work, but his former owners indulged him by giving him his cabin, and taking care of him through all the poverty which has fallen upon our land since the war.