to leave, but Queen knew she was an additional small strain on their meager
resources. Nor did she want to live the rest of her life as part of their
family. She wanted a family of her own.
Joyce found the job for her, through the Preacher, who had contacts with
some of the white missionaries in town. At the appointed hour, Queen,
soberly dressed, went with Joyce to a sprawling, gracious house with a large
and untidy garden. A tall, frail woman of late middle years, her hair pulled
back in a fierce bun, answered the door to them, and introduced herself as
Miss Gippy. She looked at Queen appraisingly and then led them to the
sitting room.
Her sister, Miss Mandy, conducted the interview, for she
QUEEN 627
ran the house, but Miss Gippy frequently chimed in, usually with a
quotation from the Bible that had some relevance to what was being said.
Queen, who was in a happy frame of mind, even though neither she nor Joyce
was invited to sit, almost giggled at one interruption, and thought that
Miss Gippy must know the Good Book backward.
Miss Mandy was rounder and less frail than her sister, of similar years
and sterner stuff. She listened to Queen's qualifications, and explained
their circumstances. Originally from New Hampshire, they had come South
after the war to minister to the souls of the newly freed blacks. They
had lived here for a year, and were in need of a housekeeper. The several
girls they had employed had been either flighty or lazy, and all had
left. Miss Mandy admitted they were strict taskmasters, but were fair,
and Queen would get her pay, her board and her keep, and one afternoon
off a week. In return she was to run the house to the sisters'
instructions.
"If any would not work, neither should he eat," Miss Gippy droned
sanctimoniously.
Queen said the conditions were acceptable, and waited while Miss Mandy
walked around her, inspecting her as if she were a slave on the block.
A tiny smile fought its way to Queen's lips, and she dared not look at
Joyce. But she did look at Miss Gippy, and the smile disappeared to where
it had come from.
Finally, Miss Mandy pronounced herself satisfied. "Excellent. And lovely
teeth," she said. "When can you begin, Queen? Such an odd name."
It was agreed that Queen could begin immediately. She would collect her
few belongings from Joyce, and return to prepare supper. They were about
to depart, when Miss Gippy coughed.
"We should say a little prayer first," Miss Mandy said, and knelt. Miss
Gippy knelt beside her, and Queen and Joyce followed suit.
"Man goeth forth unto his work, unto his labor," Miss Gippy prayed. "0
Lord, how manifold are Thy works. In wisdom hast Thou made them all."
The wretched smile that Queen had fought so hard to subdue struggled to
her lips again.
628 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
It was hard work, for the sisters had not had help for several weeks, and
there was much to catch up on, but slowly Queen brought it all under
control. She was provided with two black dresses, white aprons and caps,
the cost of which was deducted from her wages, and she worked from early
morning till late at night, but usually took some hours off in the
afternoon, or didn't hurry home when she went shopping. Miss Mandy had been
honest with her-both sisters were strict taskmasters, but very fair, and
frequently helped in the kitchen. They seldom went out, and Queen saw
little evidence of their missionary work, other than their mild
discouragement of her continuing friendship with Joyce.
"Obviously," Miss Mandy said to Queen, "you have had a good education.
Women like Joyce have not, and are only a few steps from the jungle. That
is why we have a mission to them. "
Queen bit her lip and didn't answer back, didn't defend Joyce, because she
had come to understand that what the sisters called their mission was an
excuse, a rationale for what otherwise would be an empty existence. They
were deeply religious, and Queen's day was punctuated by calls to pray with
the sisters, or hymns sung to a pounding accompaniment by Miss Gippy on the
pump organ.
"They're a pair of dragons," she told Joyce, as they walked together to
church. "But their fire is pretty old now."
Sunday was not Queen's day off, but she was expected to attend church in
the morning. To the sisters' chagrin, she always went with Joyce to the
black church, because it marked an important turning point in her life, and
she loved the rousing sermons and hearty, heartfelt hymns. Sometimes it all
got so exciting she would get carried away, and chant and shout with the
best of them, and sometimes she was sure the Spirit moved within her, and
she went into a trancelike state of ecstasy-
She was baptized one late fall day, just before the cold weather of winter
set in. The service was held at the riverbank, where the congregation
gathered and sang their joy in Jesus. A number of whites collected nearby,
to watch the niggers have their fun, for it was a colorful occasion.
QUEEN 629
The Preacher stood up to his waist in the chilly water, with some deacons
and Joyce beside him. Three or four celebrants stood in a line before
them, teeth chattering with fervor and cold. The Preacher put his arm
around Queen and roared to heaven.
"0 Lord, we beseech Thee, receive now this child, Queen, that she may be
bom again, into Thy sweet grace. Just as Saint John baptized Thee, we now
wash away her sins in the water of love, and dedicate her to Thy glory
fo'ever."
He held his hand over Queen's mouth and nose, and dunked her in the
river. The choir was at fever pitch. When Queen bobbed up, her eyes
shining, her spirit vibrant, there was clapping and cheering.
"I know it! I know the Lord now!" Queen shouted to the world. "I feel his
great love!"
Truly, she felt wonderful, and even if it was only by contrast to her
earlier misery, that was enough, for she genuinely believed that God was
directing her life.
The sisters strongly disapproved of the way blacks worshiped the Lord,
and every Sunday they told her she should come with them to their own
church, and contemplate the wonder of His works in calm and quiet.
"Those rowdy sermons, 'The earth am flat, the sun do move,' " Miss Gippy
sniffed. "Dangerous stuff, Queen."
"Clapping and dancing and singing, and dunking people at baptism," Miss
Mandy agreed. "This is heathen behavior, idolatry! "
"Voodoo and African ritual," Miss Gippy went further. "You are not in the
jungle now. You have to be civilized, even in worship. Especially in
worship."
Queen nodded her head seriously, for she had become quite fond of the old
biddies.
"Maybe the Lord moves in mysterious ways, m'm," she said. They sighed,
and nodded sadly, and agreed with her, and sen
t her off to prepare their
dinner. Just as Queen had become fond of them, they felt surprisingly
affectionate to her, both for herself and for what she represented to
them.
Miss Gippy had been christened Gypsophilia, a tiny flower, by sober
Lutheran parents, merchants in New Hampshire, who
630 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
had hoped that the good Lord would send them a son. It was not to be. They
named their second daughter Amanda, and even though they prayed with all
their hearts and worked strenuously at their physical union, they were not
blessed with any more children. They raised their daughters with
discipline tempered by as much love as their austere religion allowed them
to show, and prayed for good husbands for both of them. Again, their
prayers were not answered, and the parents began to believe they had
offended the Lord in some way. Materially they prospered, and could
provide a good dowry if any young man had the sense to take either
daughter in wedlock, but no one took the opportunity.
Both girls were plain, each loved the other, and both were devoted to
their church. Occasionally, men crossed their paths, and both had mild
and inconclusive flirtations, but by the time she was twenty-five, Gippy
understood that she had been left on the shelf, and ceased to be anxious
about men, because she had Jesus. Mandy, who had a more rebellious
spirit, was not so accepting of potential spinsterhood. As Gippy's
interest in men declined, Mandy's became avid, and she sought out the
company of any eligible bachelor with increasing desperation. As a child
she adored her dolls, and as she grew up she transferred that affection
to other people's children. It wasn't so much that she wanted to be
married; it was that she wanted children of her own, to love, and to
mother and protect, and she could not bear the prospect of being barren.
She became something of a joke, and then an embarrassment, among the
young men of the town, for she sought them out and threw herself at them,
but when they asked for more than she was prepared to give outside of
marriage, they rejected her, and she became hysterical.
She met a young man, a shady salesman from Boston, who learned of her
financial security, but not her reputation, and, to secure his own
prospects, asked for her hand in marriage. Mandy overwhelmed him with her
gratitude, and he began to have doubts about his neurotic fianc6e. Her
parents had larger doubts about the union, for he was not religious, and
inquiries in Boston told them that the salesman was not to be trusted
with money, and was out for what he could get. Mandy would hear nothing
against her love, and so her parents offered the
QUEEN 631
salesman a sum of money to remove himself from the district. He left for
California the next day, to make his fortune in gold.
It broke Mandy's heart. She took to her room, and when she came down a
few days later, she had donned a chaste composure, and settled to a life
of loneliness with her sister, Gippy, and devotion to charity. They
became pillars of the local church and espoused all the liberal causes,
especially abolition, although neither had ever met a black person. Their
parents died and left them well provided, and they continued to live
together, for they could not imagine a life apart from each other.
Humorless, austere, and devout, they were their only friends. As they
grew older, the northern winters became harder for them, and they talked
of moving to a more temperate climate, but would not live in a slave
state. During the war, they dedicated themselves to the cause of the
Union. They attended recruitment meetings and handed out flags and
patriotic pamphlets to those who enlisted, wrote countless letters to the
newspapers protesting the latest Southern outrages, and made a few, very
small donations to those missionaries who were helping runaway slaves.
They heard lectures from those same missionaries about the appalling
plight of the blacks, slave and free, their passionate faith in a form
of God, and their curious style of worship.
It gave them the cause that they needed. Their hearts were appalled,
although their actions were limited to supplying their church with fresh
flowers. At the end of the war, they would move South, and by example and
patient instruction, by simply living as good Christians, they would
bring the newly freed slaves to their unforgiving God. They sought a
quiet city for their gentle lives, and settled on Huntsville, where they
bought a splendid house at a bargain price with their good Yankee
dollars. They found a quiet church that suited them, with a minister of
ascetic authority, and looked forward to their new lives with some
anticipation.
Almost immediately, they realized that persuading blacks from their wild
forms of worship was an impossible task, and as immediately, they became
intolerant of most black people, whom they thought primitive,
irresponsible, and immoral. And, in the case of their maids, lazy. They
despaired of their
632 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
rambling house, and closed off most of the rooms. Miss Mandy struggled
with the garden, but the verdant, unpredictable Southern horticulture
defeated her, and no gardener would tolerate her imperious directions. The
only reason they didn't sell up and go back home was because the weather
suited them both beautifully, and they could not face the prospect of a
long, dark winter again.
Then a young woman came to work for them who suited their purposes
exactly. She was nigra but pale, and obviously her white blood had calmed
her pagan genes. She was the product of a fall from grace by her father
and her mother, and so was ripe to be saved. She was an excellent worker,
who seldom complained. And she was young, and brought some sunshine into
their crimped lives, just as the lovely Southern weather eased their
rheumatic bones. That she gently resisted their attempts to bring her to
their purifying, Protestant angst did not concern them. She was
malleable, and they had nothing else to do. For the rest of their lives.
It was a healing time for Queen. Her new church gave her friends and
unbounded joy, the sisters gave her companionship and something to
complain about, and the community who had so lovingly adopted her gave her
a sense of place. That Christmas was the happiest she could remember. She
made presents, silly, sweet things, for all her friends, and gave Miss
Mandy and Miss Gippy little lavender bags that she had stitched and filled
herself. They, in turn, gave her prayer books and a new Bible. She spent
a cheery Christmas morning at her church, singing the joy of Christ reborn
as lustily as anyone present. She served an excellent dinner of ham,
gravy, and creamed potatoes to the sisters, and ate her own food alone in
the kitchen, where she took all her meals. A few days later, in that same
/>
kitchen, she wished herself a very happy New Year, and had every reason
to believe it might be true.
Thursday afternoons were her own. With the nudging of spring, she would
stroll in the park, or shop with Joyce, and they would go to a little
caf6 and have big slices of fich peach pie, covered in cream. It pleased
Joyce to see Queen so happy, and she told her so.
Queen laughed. "I love being me," she said. "I tried being
QUEEN 633
on the other side, and now I love being black."
"But you white as snow," Joyce laughed.
Queen shook her head. "This black blood must be a powerful thing. One
little drop of it, and you can't be white. It's all or nothing for them."
She looked down and fiddled with her pie, remembering the bad times, the
white times. Joyce took her hand.
"Seems to me there's only one thing you need to make yo' life complete,"
she said, her meaning perfectly clear, for she said this to Queen every
time they met. Part of Queen agreed with her. She wanted very much to
have a man in her life, but the awful memory of Digby still lingered, and
she was too suspicious of men to feel comfortable with them if they
showed any romantic interest in her. Her caution was easing with time,
and she was trying to convince herself that Digby was exceptional, but
she was not ready to test the theory.
Men who made her laugh, and who represented no serious threat to her
heart or her body, were different, like the smart young man loping toward
them, his eyes glinting with delight at Queen.
"Charles real sweet on you," Joyce hinted.
"He isn't for me," Queen said.
"Yo' need a man in yo' life," Joyce insisted.
Charles joined them, dapper, dandy, and colorfully clad. He doffed his
hat.
"Miss Queen, Miss Joyce," he greeted them, but hardly looking at Joyce.
He was real sweet on Queen. "What a very sublime pleasure."
Joyce got to her feet. "Sit here and talk to Queen," she told Charles.
"I see a friend over there."
Queen laughed out loud at the unsubtlety of it, and Charles slid into
Joyce's seat.
"Yo're looking radiant, Miss Queen," he beamed, on his very best
behavior. "An' what a fine big dish o' pie. But then you just a little
ol' itty-bitty thing, and yo' need feedin' up."
Queen laughed again, and hid her face in her hands. If nothing else,
Charles was funny.
Charles knew people laughed at him, and used that to his advantage. Tall,
thin and scrawny, and a bom survivor, he had
634 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
an unthreatening impudence and a cheeky personality and a silver tongue.
He made the most of every opportunity, and created opportunity where none
existed. No one was exactly sure how he made his living, because he made
his living at so many things, but he was obviously doing well for himself.
A house nigger before the war, freedom saw him flower. In the ill-supplied
South, Charles could usually supply anything anyone wanted, given enough
notice and if the price was right. His customers ranged from a Union
general who was collecting fine antiques from impoverished mansions, to
a Confederate colonel who liked to drink imported brandy at domestic
prices, and scores of simple people, black and white, who knew that
Charles could provide a few simple luxuries and more necessities, at
unmatched prices. If an ex-slave needed a cheap plow for his few
sharecropping acres, Charles could find it. If a Federal soldier wanted
souvenirs of the war, Charles would talk a veteran Rebel into parting with
his promotion orders signed by Robert E. Lee. If a Southern woman wished
to sell, discreetly, a piece of jewelry to pay her bills, Charles was her
man. The only thing Charles would not do was trade in human flesh. Asked
by drunken youths if he could find them female companionship for a few
hours, Charles would smile, shake his head, and extricate himself from
their company. The concept of a human being selling her body to another,