The position of “Overseer” was still a thing at the Borough, although the job description was markedly different. My late husband, an archaeologist and historian, worked in that capacity and his duties not only included cataloging anything of historical significance found on the 5,000 acre historic site/tree farm/hunt club, but taking care of the grounds, planting gardens for the deer, serving as hunt master, scheduling tree harvests and controlled burns, ensuring the main house, 23 outbuildings, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and additional homes on the property were maintained and weatherized according to seasonal needs, giving tours, and hiring and managing the various craftspeople and laborers to help with necessary work.
Descendants of enslaved persons were employed there and held in high regard by everyone; whenever they spoke, everyone stopped to listen to what they had to say. Stories and fond memories of Aunt Renda, who was a cook in the early to mid-twentieth century and who lived with her family, including her sister, in the beautiful two-story, four bedroom home known as “Aunt Renda’s” that lies directly adjacent to the main house were often related by the descendants and members of the Anderson family who still lived there and in the neighborhood. Sometimes there were no words - only silent looks, the puff of an indrawn breath, the tight fingers that you would grasp with both hands to try and communicate empathy and some form of apology. As one of the family says, “History is messy. It twists and turns. There are so many questions with no easy answers.”
The Borough is at least as much a monument to the enslaved as it is the home of the family who has lived there since the late 18th century. The Anderson women are consummate curators and record keepers, and many original furnishings and ancient belongings as well as ledgers, trunks, filing cabinets, and letter boxes fill the rooms of several of the buildings: the Library, the doctor’s office (where the first successful surgery to treat cancer of the jaw was performed on an enslaved man); the main home, the “Chicken Coop” which is actually the office but housed poultry in the 19th to early 20th century, the wash-house, the detached kitchen. There are photographs, paintings, journals, memories carefully written down, unfortunately sometimes years after the fact.
Some of these records include documents relating to William Ellison, their former neighbor. He is remembered as “good at the cotton gin but not too nice of a man,” one of those semi-polite euphemisms common in southern speech. His name is spoken in hushed tones. The descendants of enslaved folk do not mention him at all: even though the cemetery where the man and his family are buried lies beside his house at the corner of the entrance to Garners Ferry Road and is a well-known landmark, many people will simply point out the road itself and pretend not to notice the cemetery. They still call his home “Governor Miller’s Home,” or simply “Grainger’s Place,” as the artist Grainger McCoy and his wife live there now and have for many years.
And about that cemetery: its very existence is odd. Members of the Church of Holy Cross, where Ellison attended and is located directly across the road from the Borough’s southern entrance, are both black and white to this day and many, many of them are buried in the church cemetery, which wraps the building on both sides.
But not Ellison, or his family. They had their own burial grounds, down the hill and in the woods. It’s an anomaly, without a reason - questions with no easy answers, indeed.
The life stories upon which this book is based upon likewise highlight many, many questions, but the author’s words are a remarkable effort to answer a lot of them. Mr Cane dives deep into the records of history and brings up songs, breath, love, light, and laughter - along with the terror, the heartbreak, the suffering, and resilience of those who were the property of other human beings. He uses the word “souls” to refer to them, which breathes life into their portrayals. You cannot read the stories in these pages and not hear and see and feel some of the things that they experienced. There is raw emotion, cruel pain, gripping hunger, bleak exhaustion, triumphant joy.
The stories such as are in this book are some of the most important we need to read today in this sad, broken America. Burn Down Master’s House is a terrifying read, but so necessary to be told. It is vital that the truth not be forgotten or brushed aside, and these truths are told in the only way possible: by a descendant. The descendants own the stories. We need to listen. And learn. And validate by recognizing their importance.
My family tree is more of a vine; every branch goes back to colonial Virginia and England, cousins marrying cousins. Today if you’re a white American with nothing else in the DNA you’re by definition inbred. White supremacy is therefore pretty incestuous. Even so, I am the descendant of over 25 people who owned other human beings, and also the descendant of people who fought against the very idea of that ownership. But those stories have all been told, many, many times over. The world doesn’t need more of those stories. We need to know the stories of the souls who resisted, who fled, who died fighting in whatever way they knew. These people deserve restitution and recognition. They, and their descendants, deserve justice.
Their stories matter. Their lives mattered.
The writing in this book is clear, very descriptive, and powerful. Clay Cane is an excellent writer, and the ancestors’ stories are well told. Their experiences are safe in his hands: authentically related, skillfully crafted, meticulously woven into a narrative that does not let the reader go, does not allow the reader to look away or ignore what is being stated. Their voices whisper in your ears, their feet pound a ready earth, their tools - poison, hammer, bellows, fire - blaze forth out of history to surround you in the heat of tragedy, where you must look them in the eye, and recognize their presence.
Thanks to NetGalley, the publisher, and the author for the chance to read this important book in exchange for an honest review. A grateful, thoughtful five stars, humbly written. Thank you.
