Daughter of Tom and Daphne. Sister of Madison and Monroe. Born 1830. Died date unknown.
She was named for the goddess of wisdom, and her brothers for two of the most prominent men in Virginia at the time of their birth. Their names portend auspicious things for them all. Yet, almost all the knowledge I have of Minerva is included in that bold listing above. I’m not even sure about her date of birth but have extrapolated it here from an inventory taken on June 1, 1840, where she is listed as under 10 years of age, and an 1846 Tithes List, where she is said to be between 12 and 16.
I know that her family lived in the stables at Upper Bremo. I know she and her brother Monroe were in school on the plantation. I know her brother Madison was the oldest because he appears alone on an inventory from 1827. It’s not much, but it does tell me that Minerva lived, which is more than most people know about her.
I am fortunate. For many, many people who do this kind of research, there is nothing to go on but a first name or maybe just a gender and an age (for example, “Male, 32”). Occasionally, there’s only a gender and a price (“Female, $400”), and sadly, historians of slavery have had to learn to pull a great deal of information from these scant facts. A young man (in his late teens or 20s) was the most valuable slave a person could own because they were the most capable of physical work. Next in line was a young female slave because she could produce male offspring. Of least value were the old people because they could neither reproduce nor work well. So when a researcher knows that the master bought a 22-year-old man, he knows he paid premium price for him. Or if by chance the price is listed and is low, the researcher can determine that perhaps the enslaved man is injured or maimed in some way, less able to work and, thus, worth less.
It’s sad when we take the parameters of a system and use them to tell the story of individual people, but sometimes, that’s the best we can do.
As I always do when I’m researching these people, I built a family tree for Minerva in Ancestry.com. I entered the few things I know—“Minerva. Born about 1830 in Fork Union, Fluvanna, Virginia, USA. Father—Tom. Mother—Daphne. Brothers—Madison and Monroe.” Nothing. The search pulled no listings for a Minerva in this area.
I tried again, this time searching “Minnie.” Often people used nicknames on legal documents at the time, perhaps because that was how the person recording put it down—in the diminutive—perhaps because that was the only name they knew for themselves. Minnie . . .
Minnie Edwards. Barbour, Orange, Virginia. She shows up on the 1880 census with approximately the right birth date and a birthplace of Virginia. She is black. She is a widow. She has eight children—five girls and three boys. Clara, Jarrett, Robert, William, Louisa, Phillip, Alvina, Caroline.
I think this may be “my” Minerva for a few reasons. First, people who used the surname Edwards lived here—Ned, Felicia, Lucy, and Berthier. Secondly, the names of her children speak of this Bremo—Jarrett Spring, where the Temperance Temple originally stood and where a slave quarter was located; Phillip, The General’s middle son; and Clara, Phillip’s wife. Too many intersections for me to ignore the possibility. So I connect the census record to Minerva’s entry and hope something comes of it.
Perhaps I will find that Minerva’s last name is not Edwards. Perhaps I will have to remove this connection and move forward in a different direction. But for now, this feels like progress, and it gives me a place to move past the wall a bit.
Because all the documents and research tools I have available have run dry, I turn to the only other source I have—people. I write on Facebook: “Central Virginia Folks, does anyone know members of the Edwards family in Fluvanna or Orange? Specifically, I’m looking for descendants of Minerva (Minnie) Edwards and Berthier Edwards.” Within minutes, my friend Bonnie says that a man with the last name Edmonds should be able to help, and she tags him in her comment. I haven’t heard from him yet, but I know the Edmonds family; I went to school with Anthony. They’re a black family that has been in the county for a long time. In this small place, it’s possible that they will know how to help.
We will see. Until then, I’ll just revel in the little girl Minerva, 10 years old but carrying the name of a goddess when her brothers were named for mere mortals. I’ll imagine her reading her books at school and knowing, when the Cocke children play school with her, not to correct them when they are wrong. I will see her as wise, wiser than the nickname Minnie would suggest. Not a mouse, but a goddess for sure.