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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11030-0.txt b/11030-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9daf02c --- /dev/null +++ b/11030-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7775 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 *** +[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.] + + + INCIDENTS + IN THE + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + + WRITTEN BY HERSELF. + +“Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual +bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of _degradation_ +involved in that word, Slavery; if they had, they would never cease their +efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + + A Woman of North Carolina. + + +“Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! +Give ear unto my speech.” + + Isaiah xxxii. 9. + + + Edited By L. Maria Child. + + Boston: + Published For The Author. + 1861. + + + + + Preface by the Author + + +Reader, be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my +adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. +I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, my +descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of +places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on +my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to +pursue this course. + +I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my +readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was +born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven +years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to work +diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This has +not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities to +improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregular +intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties. + +When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a +sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an +undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I +still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what +might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in +order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been +more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I +care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire to +arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of two +millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I +suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that of +abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery really +is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul is +that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfect +effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + + Linda Brent. + + + + + Introduction by the Editor + + +The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and +her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last +seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a +distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be +highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further +credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be +disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are more +romantic than fiction. + +At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have +made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement. +I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of her +very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and the +language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I had +no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her own +story. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for good +reasons I suppress them. + +It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be +able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first +place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, +with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate +friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in +favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent +intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her +welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + +I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these +pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and +much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, and +others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been kept +veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous +features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with +the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who +are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to +them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women +at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence on +the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hope +that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before God +that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shall +ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and +cruelty. + + L. Maria Child. + + + + + Contents + + + Childhood + + The New Master And Mistress + + The Slaves’ New Year’s Day + + The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man + + The Trials Of Girlhood + + The Jealous Mistress + + The Lover + + What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North + + Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders + + A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life + + The New Tie To Life + + Fear Of Insurrection + + The Church And Slavery + + Another Link To Life + + Continued Persecutions + + Scenes At The Plantation + + The Flight + + Months Of Peril + + The Children Sold + + New Perils + + The Loophole Of Retreat + + Christmas Festivities + + Still In Prison + + The Candidate For Congress + + Competition In Cunning + + Important Era In My Brother’s Life + + New Destination For The Children + + Aunt Nancy + + Preparations For Escape + + Northward Bound + + Incidents In Philadelphia + + The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter + + A Home Found + + The Old Enemy Again + + Prejudice Against Color + + The Hairbreadth Escape + + A Visit To England + + Renewed Invitations To Go South + + The Confession + + The Fugitive Slave Law + + Free At Last + + Appendix + + + + + INCIDENTS + IN THE + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL, + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED. + + + * * * * * + + + + + I. Childhood + + +I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy +childhood had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so +intelligent and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the +common line were to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, +to be head workman. On condition of paying his mistress two hundred +dollars a year, and supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his +trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase +his children; but, though he several times offered his hard earnings +for that purpose, he never succeeded. In complexion my parents were a +light shade of brownish yellow, and were termed mulattoes. They lived +together in a comfortable home; and, though we were all slaves, I was +so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece of merchandise, +trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to be demanded of them at +any moment. I had one brother, William, who was two years younger than +myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had also a great treasure in my +maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in many respects. She +was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at his death, +left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St. +Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary +War; and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold +to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to +tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little +girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. +I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. +But as she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so +faithful, that her master and mistress could not help seeing it was +for their interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property. +She became an indispensable personage in the household, officiating in +all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much +praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in +the neighborhood that many people were desirous of obtaining them. In +consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked permission +of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the household +work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she would +clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, +after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight +bakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved +profitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a +fund to purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was +divided among his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel, which +she continued to keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as +a slave; but her children were divided among her master’s children. As +she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each +heir might have an equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so +little difference in our ages that he seemed more like my brother than +my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited +the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. +Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars were paid +for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother; but she was +naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting +in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up +three hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, +promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or +writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern +laws, a slave, _being_ property, can _hold_ no property. When my +grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely +to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + +To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother +Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and +preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were +indebted to her for many more important services. + +Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. +When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first +time, I learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My +mother’s mistress was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She +was the foster sister of my mother; they were both nourished at my +grandmother’s breast. In fact, my mother had been weaned at three +months old, that the babe of the mistress might obtain sufficient +food. They played together as children; and, when they became women, +my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. On +her death-bed her mistress promised that her children should never +suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she kept her word. They +all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely in +name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my +young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of +me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with +her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable +duties were imposed upon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was +always glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as +my young years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing +diligently, with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born +white child. When she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run +and jump; and away I bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate +her room. Those were happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had +no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely +waits on every human being born to be a chattel. + +When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. +As I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I +prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been +almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, +and they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my +tears fell upon her grave. + +I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to +begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what +they would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress +so kind as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that +her children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered +that, and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not +help having some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were +almost certain it would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, +on account of my mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all +know that the memory of a faithful slave does not avail much to save +her children from the auction block. + +After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and +we learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child +of five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me +the precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” +“Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto +them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as +her neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one +great wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the +happy days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of +this act of injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and +spell; and for this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a +slave, I bless her memory. + +She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all +distributed among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s +children, and had shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s +children. Notwithstanding my grandmother’s long and faithful service to +her owners, not one of her children escaped the auction block. These +God-breathing machines are no more, in the sight of their masters, than +the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend. + + + + + II. The New Master And Mistress. + + +Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of +my mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It +was not without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what +added to my unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was +purchased by the same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by +the habit of transacting business as a skilful mechanic, had more of +the feelings of a freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was +a spirited boy; and being brought up under such influences, he early +detested the name of master and mistress. One day, when his father and +his mistress both happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated +between the two; being perplexed to know which had the strongest claim +upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my +father reproved him for it, he said, “You both called me, and I didn’t +know which I ought to go to first.” + +“You are _my_ child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you +should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + +Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a +master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they +found an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + +When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and +cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I +moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + +I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was +buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her +only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that +I still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, +“Come with me, Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad +had happened. She led me apart from the people, and then said, “My +child, your father is dead.” Dead! How could I believe it? He had died +so suddenly I had not even heard that he was sick. I went home with +my grandmother. My heart rebelled against God, who had taken from me +mother, father, mistress, and friend. The good grandmother tried to +comfort me. “Who knows the ways of God?” said she. “Perhaps they have +been kindly taken from the evil days to come.” Years afterwards I often +thought of this. She promised to be a mother to her grandchildren, so +far as she might be permitted to do so; and strengthened by her love, +I returned to my master’s. I thought I should be allowed to go to my +father’s house the next morning; but I was ordered to go for flowers, +that my mistress’s house might be decorated for an evening party. I +spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, while +the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared +my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, they +thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they +were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach; +presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + +The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my +dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected +his memory. + +My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little +slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about +the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I +tried to comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days +will come by and by.” + +“You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have +to stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + +I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we +might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could +earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to +say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to _buy_ his freedom. We +held daily controversies upon this subject. + +Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. +If they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. +I gave myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I +passed my grandmother’s house, where there was always something to +spare for me. I was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped +there; and my grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the +gate with something for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to +_her_ for all my comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor +that supplied my scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the +linsey-woolsey dress given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated +it! It was one of the badges of slavery. + +While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard +earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were +never repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was +appointed executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he +said the estate was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did +not, however, prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which +had been purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down +in the family, from generation to generation. + +My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, +she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the +promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful +old servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she +should be sold. + +On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, +proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, +&c.” Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to +wound her feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would +prefer to dispose of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through +his hypocrisy; she understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. +She was a very spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, +when her mistress intended she should be free, she was determined the +public should know it. She had for a long time supplied many families +with crackers and preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was +called, was generally known, and every body who knew her respected +her intelligence and good character. Her long and faithful service in +the family was also well known, and the intention of her mistress to +leave her free. When the day of sale came, she took her place among +the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon the auction-block. +Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! Who is going to sell _you_, +aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is no place for _you_.” Without +saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At +last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” It came from a maiden lady, +seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother’s deceased mistress. +She had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she +knew how faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had +been defrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The +auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no +one bid above her. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill +of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence +was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She +gave the old servant her freedom. + +At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years +had passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man +who had defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her +freedom. One of my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a +slave in his family. She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the +place of both housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in +fact, at the beginning and end of every thing. + +Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. +She had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her +nerves were so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a +woman whipped, till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. +She was a member of the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did +not seem to put her in a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not +served at the exact time on that particular Sunday, she would station +herself in the kitchen, and wait till it was dished, and then spit in +all the kettles and pans that had been used for cooking. She did this +to prevent the cook and her children from eking out their meagre fare +with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. The slaves could +get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them. Provisions were +weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a day. I can assure you +she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from her flour barrel. She +knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, and exactly what +size they ought to be. + +Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table +without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to +his liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to +eat every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature +might not have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her +master cram it down her throat till she choked. + +They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was +ordered to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when +his head was held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the +basin. He died a few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said +the mush had not been well cooked, and that was the reason the animal +would not eat it. He sent for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. +He thought that the woman’s stomach was stronger than the dog’s; but +her sufferings afterwards proved that he was mistaken. This poor woman +endured many cruelties from her master and mistress; sometimes she was +locked up, away from her nursing baby, for a whole day and night. + +When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation +slaves was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night +when he arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work +house, and tied up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape +the ground. In that situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken +his tea. I shall never forget that night. Never before, in my life, +had I heard hundreds of blows fall, in succession, on a human being. +His piteous groans, and his “O, pray don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for +months afterwards. There were many conjectures as to the cause of this +terrible punishment. Some said master accused him of stealing corn; +others said the slave had quarrelled with his wife, in presence of the +overseer, and had accused his master of being the father of her child. +They were both black, and the child was very fair. + +I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet +with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, +and continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. +Flint handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their +value into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they +were out of sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the +trader’s hands, she said, “You _promised_ to treat me well.” To which +he replied, “You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had +forgotten that it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of +her child. + +From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I +once saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child +nearly white. In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” +Her mistress stood by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You +suffer, do you?” she exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, +and more too.” + +The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my +poor child will soon be in heaven, too.” + +“Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like +of her and her bastard.” + +The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, +feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, +mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + +Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt +unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was +still on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black +woman had but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while +she thanked God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + + + + + III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + + +Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about +fifty slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + +Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, +the slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they +work until the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. +Some masters give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they +work until Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought +against them, they are given four or five holidays, whichever the +master or overseer may think proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and +they gather together their little alls, or more properly speaking, +their little nothings, and wait anxiously for the dawning of day. +At the appointed hour the grounds are thronged with men, women, and +children, waiting, like criminals, to hear their doom pronounced. The +slave is sure to know who is the most humane, or cruel master, within +forty miles of him. + +It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves +well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me +this year. I will work _very_ hard, massa.” + +If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or +locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run +away during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking +it justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is +caught! The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his +stiffened limbs are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days +and days! + +If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire +him again, without even giving him an opportunity of going to the +hiring-ground. After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are +called up. + +O, you happy free women, contrast _your_ New Year’s day with that of +the poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of +the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are +showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften +at this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you +a happy New Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise +their rosy lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that +of death can take them from you. + +But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar +sorrows. She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children +who may all be torn from her the next morning; and often does she +wish that she and they might die before the day dawns. She may be an +ignorant creature, degraded by the system that has brutalized her from +childhood; but she has a mother’s instincts, and is capable of feeling +a mother’s agonies. + +On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the +auction-block. She knew that _some_ of them would be taken from her; +but they took _all_. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and +their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her +children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where +he intended to take them; this he refused to do. How _could_ he, when +he knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the +highest price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard +face lives to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and +exclaimed, “Gone! All gone! Why _don’t_ God kill me?” I had no words +wherewith to comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of +hourly occurrence. + +Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting +rid of _old_ slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I +knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. +She had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners +moved to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any +body who would give twenty dollars for her. + + + + + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + + +Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those +years had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, +though they had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of +knowledge. + +My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan +grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now +mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of +life. She would have been happy could her children have shared them +with her. There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all +slaves. Most earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the +will of God: that He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; +and though it seemed hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + +It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her +children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned +it. We reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should +be situated as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we +always found sweet balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so +sympathizing! She always met us with a smile, and listened with +patience to all our sorrows. She spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously +the clouds gave place to sunshine. There was a grand big oven there, +too, that baked bread and nice things for the town, and we knew there +was always a choice bit in store for us. + +But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to +our hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and +gracefully made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My +brother William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the +word master that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his +confidant. He came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance +in particular. It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the +sunlight dancing here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. +For my master, whose restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day +and night, seeking whom to devour, had just left me, with stinging, +scorching words; words that scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how +I despised him! I thought how glad I should be, if some day when he +walked the earth, it would open and swallow him up, and disencumber the +world of a plague. + +When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command +in _every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and +should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so +strong. + +So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I +neither saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of +William sounded close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look +so sad? I love you. O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems +so cross and unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did.” + +I told him that every body was _not_ cross, or unhappy; that those who +had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love +them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or +mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that +would bring us contentment. + +“Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all +the time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s +difficulty with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother +of master Nicholas had pleased himself with making up stories about +William. Master Nicholas said he should be flogged, and he would do it. +Whereupon he went to work; but William fought bravely, and the young +master, finding he was getting the better of him, undertook to tie his +hands behind him. He failed in that likewise. By dint of kicking and +fisting, William came out of the skirmish none the worse for a few +scratches. + +He continued to discourse, on his young master’s _meanness_; how he +whipped the _little_ boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle +ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he +always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. +One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off +for quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William +was often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he +ought to do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong +to deceive the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the +impositions practised by his young master. I assured him the old man +would not be slow to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would +end. William thought it might with the old man, but not with _him_. He +said he did not mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the +_idea_ of being whipped. + +While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious +of the beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own +shortcomings that urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of +my brother’s God-given nature. I had not lived fourteen years in +slavery for nothing. I had felt, seen, and heard enough, to read the +characters, and question the motives, of those around me. The war of +my life had begun; and though one of God’s most powerless creatures, I +resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + +If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in +Benjamin’s heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of +a girl’s first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to +render me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to +all the petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + +I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of +February. My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with +a new pair. I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and +it still continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, +their creaking grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to +her, and asked what I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I +told her it was my new shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you +put them on again, I’ll throw them into the fire.” + +I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long +distance, on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet +tingled. That night I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the +next day would find me sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking +to find myself quite well! + +I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my +mistress would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the +little imp,” as she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress +that gave rise to such extravagant imaginings. + +Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always +said, “She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I +have no right to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was +still a child, and I could look for no protection from her. I loved +her, and she returned my affection. I once heard her father allude to +her attachment to me; and his wife promptly replied that it proceeded +from fear. This put unpleasant doubts into my mind. Did the child +feign what she did not feel? or was her mother jealous of the mite of +love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must be the latter. I said to +myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + +One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of +spirits. My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I +assured her I was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous +curl of her lip, that she believed I was telling a lie. + +I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such +thorny paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I +sat musing thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, +brother,” said I, “what is the matter this time?” + +“O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + +My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, +Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + +It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not +immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and +began to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally +the master was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown +to the ground his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously +awaited the result. + +That night I stole to my grandmother’s house, and Benjamin also stole +thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or +two with an old friend living in the country. + +“I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + +I inquired where. + +“To the north,” he replied. + +I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his +firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my +words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke +more galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be +publicly whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and +hardships he must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be +caught and brought back; and that was terrible to think of. + +He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were +not preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we +are dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will +not stay. Let them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + +He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break +your mother’s heart.” + +I repented of my words ere they were out. + +“Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, +“how _could_ you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, +too, cousin Fanny.” + +Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + +Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by +so many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + +It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, +he was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. +The captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed +Benjamin, who was aware that he would be advertised in every port near +his own town. His embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port +they went. There the advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so +exactly answered its description, that the captain laid hold on him, +and bound him in chains. The storm passed, and they proceeded to New +York. Before reaching that port Benjamin managed to get off his chains +and throw them overboard. He escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, +captured, and carried back to his master. + +When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had +fled, great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, +“God’s will be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been +heard from her boy. Yes, news _was_ heard. The master was rejoicing +over a letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + +That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him +led through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, +yet full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to +his mother’s house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of +her distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see +him, and she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might +be as her child had said. + +We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for +years, and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail +door for my grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we +entered the cell not a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” +whispered my grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. +There was a jingle of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an +uncertain light through the bars of the window. We knelt down and took +Benjamin’s cold hands in ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and +Benjamin’s lips were unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. +How vividly does memory bring back that sad night! Mother and son +talked together. He asked her pardon for the suffering he had caused +her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she could not blame his +desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured, he broke +away, and was about casting himself into the river, when thoughts of +_her_ came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did not also +think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the moonlight. He +answered, “No, I did not think of him. When a man is hunted like a wild +beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He forgets every thing in +his struggle to get beyond the reach of the bloodhounds.” + +“Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, +my child, and your master will forgive you.” + +“Forgive me for _what_, mother? For not letting him treat me like a +dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for +nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. +Here I will stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + +The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he +next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t +worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every +thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I +could.” + +She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but +when sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she +learned to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him +to do likewise. + +We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + +Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to +intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin +should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept +in jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for +him. However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were +taken off, and we were allowed to visit him. + +As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as +possible a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the +jailer. + +Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a +purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of +indecorum was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to +re-chain him. He was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, +who were covered with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and +was soon covered with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded +in getting out of them. He passed them through the bars of the window, +with a request that they should be taken to his master, and he should +be informed that he was covered with vermin. + +This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our +visits. + +My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The +old ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother +still begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither +persuasion nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly +answered, “I am waiting his time.” + +Those chains were mournful to hear. + +Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We +that loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave +trader had bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought +when ten years of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and +sold for three hundred dollars. The master had been blind to his own +interest. Long confinement had made his face too pale, his form too +thin; moreover, the trader had heard something of his character, and it +did not strike him as suitable for a slave. He said he would give any +price if the handsome lad was a girl. We thanked God that he was not. + +Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they +fastened the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her +heart-rending groans, and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from +face to face, vainly pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that +scene as I saw it, you would exclaim, _Slavery is damnable_! Benjamin, +her youngest, her pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She +had had an interview with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if +Benjamin could be purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had +given bonds not to sell him till he was out of the state. He promised +that he would not sell him till he reached New Orleans. + +With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work +of love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would +still be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night +she labored. The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was +not discouraged. + +She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New +Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he +willingly favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his +business, he thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before +making the trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price +for him, and had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another +effort for freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was +missing. He was riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + +For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion +that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been +followed out to the letter, and the _thing_ rendered back to slavery. +The brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. +Benjamin was taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three +weeks. His strength was slow in returning; and his desire to continue +his journey seemed to retard his recovery. How could he get strength +without air and exercise? He resolved to venture on a short walk. A +by-street was selected, where he thought himself secure of not being +met by any one that knew him; but a voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my +boy! what are you doing _here_?” + +His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could +not stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood +his old master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with +him now; but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed +a goodly number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic +clock, whose ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + +“Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I +gave you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch +you. You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way +rejoicing for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place +plaguy quick, for there are several gentlemen here from our town.” He +described the nearest and safest route to New York, and added, “I shall +be glad to tell your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + +Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the +town he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + +This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern +lady. On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, +and of the service he had rendered him. + +Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until +he had gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that +my grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on +business for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. +You may be sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, +“I am here at last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost +in sight of free land, and how he prayed that he might live to get +one breath of free air. He said life was worth something now, and it +would be hard to die. In the old jail he had not valued it; once, he +was tempted to destroy it; but something, he did not know what, had +prevented him; perhaps it was fear. He had heard those who profess to +be religious declare there was no heaven for self-murderers; and as +his life had been pretty hot here, he did not desire a continuation of +the same in another world. “If I die now,” he exclaimed, “thank God, I +shall die a freeman!” + +He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with +him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him +it would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had +pledged her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. +Would he be bought? + +“No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far +out of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you +suppose I would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I +would let her pay all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to +see me? For you know she will stay south as long as her other children +are slaves. What a good mother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have +been a comfort to her, and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor +Linda; what’ll become of her? Phil, you don’t know what a life they +lead her. She has told me something about it, and I wish old Flint was +dead, or a better man. When I was in jail, he asked her if she didn’t +want _him_ to ask my master to forgive me, and take me home again. She +told him, No; that I didn’t want to go back. He got mad, and said we +were all alike. I never despised my own master half as much as I do +that man. There is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but for all +that I would not be his slave.” + +While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes +to pay necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I +fastened in his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I +owned, and I thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + +His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + +They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, +“Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard +from him again. + +Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered +the house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She +stood looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe +it?” he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her +hands, and exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped +on her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must +sit down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her +all; only he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. +Why should he distress her when she could do him no good? + +The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her +other children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She +paid eight hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document +that secured his freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the +old hearthstone that night, telling how proud they were of each other, +and how they would prove to the world that they could take care of +themselves, as they had long taken care of others. We all concluded by +saying, “He that is _willing_ to be a slave, let him be a slave.” + + + + + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + + +During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was +accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. +Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and +tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. +But I now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a +slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as +I was, I could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat +them with indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, +and the fear that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, +made him bear this treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, +and resorted to many means to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he +had stormy, terrific ways, that made his victims tremble; sometimes +he assumed a gentleness that he thought must surely subdue. Of the +two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they left me trembling. +He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother had +instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such as only a +vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust and hatred. +But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same roof with +him—where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the most +sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I +must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the +mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether +the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In +either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from +violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who +bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless +victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy and +rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, +are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would willingly +believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are told +you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, +you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would +refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work +which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at +the south. + +Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in +slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even +the little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her +children, will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that +her mistress hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the +child’s own mother is among those hated ones. She listens to violent +outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot help understanding what is +the cause. She will become prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon +she will learn to tremble when she hears her master’s footfall. She +will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. If God has +bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. That which +commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradation of +the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery +to feel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it +most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much +I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained +by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I +belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel +me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after +a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my +mother’s grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart +which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other +slaves in my master’s house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; +but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew +too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that +to speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + +I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to +have laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all +my troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as +silent as the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to +me, I feared her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look +up to her with a respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and +felt shamefaced about telling her such impure things, especially as I +knew her to be very strict on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman +of a high spirit. She was usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if +her indignation was once roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had +been told that she once chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, +because he insulted one of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of +a violent outbreak; and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though +I did not confide in my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant +watchfulness and inquiry, her presence in the neighborhood was some +protection to me. Though she had been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid +of her. He dreaded her scorching rebukes. Moreover, she was known and +patronized by many people; and he did not wish to have his villany +made public. It was lucky for me that I did not live on a distant +plantation, but in a town not so large that the inhabitants were +ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the laws and customs in a +slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, deemed it +prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + +O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! +Reader, it is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you +truthfully what I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of +compassion in your hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, +suffering as I once suffered. + +I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair +white child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw +them embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned +sadly away from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that +would fall on the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter +would be changed to sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer +woman. From childhood to womanhood her pathway was blooming with +flowers, and overarched by a sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life +had been clouded when the sun rose on her happy bridal morning. + +How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate +of her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and +sunshine of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, +and misery, whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + +In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of +the north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? +Would that I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is +so weak! There are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to +help those who cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them +strength and courage to go on! God bless those, every where, who are +laboring to advance the cause of humanity! + + + + + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + + +I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the +half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among +the slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton +plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with +an unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a +penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of +his ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. +She is not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime +in her to wish to be virtuous. + +Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was +born. She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen +the young and the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had +no sympathy. They were the objects of her constant suspicion and +malevolence. She watched her husband with unceasing vigilance; but +he was well practised in means to evade it. What he could not find +opportunity to say in words he manifested in signs. He invented more +than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb asylum. I let them pass, +as if I did not understand what he meant; and many were the curses +and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day he caught me +teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well pleased; +but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an accomplishment +might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, notes were +often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I can’t read +them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to you.” He +always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” Sometimes +he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his supper to +be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself there +with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away the +flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These +intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly +throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally +awaited my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he +had exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his +patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk +to me at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. +When there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he +saw fit to address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt +for him that he would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he +did not strike me. Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was +better policy to be forbearing. But the state of things grew worse and +worse daily. In desperation I told him that I must and would apply to +my grandmother for protection. He threatened me with death, and worse +than death, if I made any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not +despair. I was naturally of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a +hope of somehow getting out of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple +slave before me, I trusted that some threads of joy would yet be woven +into my dark destiny. + +I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent +that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently +passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, +and he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she +was never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile +for her to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had +far more pity for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life +happy. I never wronged her, or wished to wrong her; and one word of +kindness from her would have brought me to her feet. + +After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced +his intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to +sleep in his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in +the same room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for +that office, and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been +made. By managing to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, +during the day time, I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, +though a razor was often held to my throat to force me to change this +line of policy. At night I slept by the side of my great aunt, where +I felt safe. He was too prudent to come into her room. She was an old +woman, and had been in the family many years. Moreover, as a married +man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessary to save appearances +in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstacle in the way of +his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that he should evade +suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge by the side of +my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. The first night +the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next morning, +I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A kind +Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of +this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. + +After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first +question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Who told you?” + +“My master.” + +“Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I +have accused you?” + +“I am.” + +She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss +this holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + +I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + +“You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. +“If you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look +me directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your +master and you.” + +I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed +frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, +that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was +soon convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. +She felt that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; +but she had no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. +She pitied herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for +the condition of shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless +slave was placed. Yet perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; +for when the conference was ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to +protect me. I should have been much comforted by this assurance if I +could have had confidence in it; but my experiences in slavery had +filled me with distrust. She was not a very refined woman, and had not +much control over her passions. I was an object of her jealousy, and, +consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not expect kindness +or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I was placed. +I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women would +under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from small +sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was obliged +to give up his intended arrangement. + +I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it +afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid +she rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in +a room adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, +though not of her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless +night to watch over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending +over me. At other times she whispered in my ear, as though it was +her husband who was speaking to me, and listened to hear what I +would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she would glide +stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had been +talking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began +to be fearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can +imagine, better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it +must produce to wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman +bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it +would give place to one more terrible. + +My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. +She changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master +of crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the +accusation. To my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe +it; but if she did acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing +me.” Tortured into exposing him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in +distinguishing the color of his soul! I understood his object in making +this false representation. It was to show me that I gained nothing by +seeking the protection of my mistress; that the power was still all in +his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was a second wife, many years +the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headed miscreant was enough +to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. She was completely +foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly have had me +flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated, the +doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic. +The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have +exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often +did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew +each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the +multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + +The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. +My master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did +the mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the +other slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? +No, indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + +My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her +suspicions. She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; +but the never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not +belong to _me_. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal +right to sell her.” The conscientious man! He was too scrupulous +to _sell_ me; but he had no scruples whatever about committing a +much greater wrong against the helpless young girl placed under his +guardianship, as his daughter’s property. Sometimes my persecutor would +ask me whether I would like to be sold. I told him I would rather be +sold to any body than to lead such a life as I did. On such occasions +he would assume the air of a very injured individual, and reproach me +for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into the house, and make you +the companion of my own children?” he would say. “Have I ever treated +you like a negro? I have never allowed you to be punished, not even to +please your mistress. And this is the recompense I get, you ungrateful +girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for screening me from +punishment, and that the course he pursued made my mistress hate me and +persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! Don’t cry! don’t +cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only let me arrange +matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know what is for +your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you. Now go, +and think of all I have promised you.” + +I did think of it. + +Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling +you the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from this wild +beast of Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, +and hunt the poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s +bones, and all uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, +but proud, to give their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. +The poor girls have romantic notions of a sunny clime, and of the +flowering vines that all the year round shade a happy home. To what +disappointments are they destined! The young wife soon learns that the +husband in whose hands she has placed her happiness pays no regard to +his marriage vows. Children of every shade of complexion play with her +own fair babies, and too well she knows that they are born unto him of +his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the flowery home, and it +is ravaged of its loveliness. + +Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of +many little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They +regard such children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the +plantation; and it is seldom that they do not make them aware of this +by passing them into the slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and +thus getting them out of their sight. I am glad to say there are some +honorable exceptions. + +I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to +free those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and +their request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior +nobleness of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them +to do that which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, +and rendered their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, +and confidence took the place of distrust. + +Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white +women, to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have +heard southern ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it +no disgrace to be the father of those little niggers, but he is not +ashamed to call himself their master. I declare, such things ought not +to be tolerated in any decent society!” + + + + + VII. The Lover. + + +Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to +twine around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the +hand of violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the +pious soul can bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine +be done, O Lord!” But when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, +regardless of the misery he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did +not reason thus when I was a young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved, +and I indulged the hope that the dark clouds around me would turn out +a bright lining. I forgot that in the land of my birth the shadows are +too dense for light to penetrate. A land + + “Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; + Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind. + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, + And each is tortured in his separate hell.” + +There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born +man. We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met +together afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed +to marry me. I loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first +love. But when I reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave +no sanction to the marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My +lover wanted to buy me; but I knew that Dr. Flint was too wilful and +arbitrary a man to consent to that arrangement. From him, I was sure of +experiencing all sorts of opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my +mistress. She would have been delighted to have got rid of me, but not +in that way. It would have relieved her mind of a burden if she could +have seen me sold to some distant state, but if I was married near home +I should be just as much in her husband’s power as I had previously +been,—for the husband of a slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, +my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaves had no right +to any family ties of their own; that they were created merely to wait +upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave +girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I +will have you peeled and pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear +you mention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you +tending _my_ children with the children of that nigger?” The girl to +whom she said this had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by +its father. The poor black man who loved her would have been proud to +acknowledge his helpless offspring. + +Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a +loss what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover +the insults that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my +grandmother about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to +tell her the worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I +confirmed her suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the +overthrow of all my hopes. + +This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could +not bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was +a lady in the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who +often visited the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had +always manifested a friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she +would have great influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and +told her my story. I told her I was aware that my lover’s being a +free-born man would prove a great objection; but he wanted to buy me; +and if Dr. Flint would consent to that arrangement, I felt sure he +would be willing to pay any reasonable price. She knew that Mrs. Flint +disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest that perhaps my mistress +would approve of my being sold, as that would rid her of me. The lady +listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do her utmost to promote +my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and I believe she +pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose. + +How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned +to his presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. +The next morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in +his study.” I found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the +hateful man who claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, +and tried to appear calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was +bleeding. He looked fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to +say, “I have half a mind to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the +silence, and that was a relief to both of us. + +“So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger +fellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take +up with one of my slaves.” + +What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, +even if my heart had been interested! + +I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some +preference about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to +her?” + +“Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight +pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you +felt above the insults of such puppies.” + +I replied, “If he is a puppy I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro +race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you +call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did +not believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + +He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the +first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control +my anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, +“You have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + +There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should +be my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on +what I had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you +know what you have said?” + +“Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + +“Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I can +kill you, if I please?” + +“You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right +to do as you like with me.” + +“Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you +forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you +to your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have +borne from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the +spot. How would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + +“I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me +to it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace +for me there than there is here.” + +“You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, +that you would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do +you good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I +am not ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude +for all my kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my +life. I have wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with +the basest ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable +of appreciating my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I +will give you one more chance to redeem your character. If you behave +yourself and do as I require, I will forgive you and treat you as I +always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punish you as I would +the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear that fellow’s +name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, I will +cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I will +shoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach +you a lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be +the last time I have occasion to speak to you on this subject.” + +Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I +trust I never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of +hell;” and I believe it is so. + +For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify +me; to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the +honorable addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the +base proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address +me, his eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more +narrowly than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had +failed to make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I +should exchange letters with another man. After a while he became weary +of silence; and I was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through +the hall, to leave the house, he contrived to thrust a note into my +hand. I thought I had better read it, and spare myself the vexation +of having him read it to me. It expressed regret for the blow he had +given me, and reminded me that I myself was wholly to blame for it. +He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I was doing myself by +incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up his mind to go +to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, and intended +I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where she was; +therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If I merited +kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishly bestowed. He +begged me to think over the matter, and answer the following day. + +The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. +I laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it +was my answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my +young mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered +me to stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed +me his letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I +am your daughter’s property, and it is in your power to send me, or +take me, wherever you please.” He said he was very glad to find me so +willing to go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a +large practice in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the +story merely to frighten me. However that might be, I was determined +that I would never go to Louisiana with him. + +Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was +sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. +That news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be +sent with _him_. That I had not been taken to the plantation before +this time, was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous +of his son; and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing +me by sending me into the fields to work. Is it strange that I was not +proud of these protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I +had less respect than I had for a bloodhound. + +Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and +I heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the +corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw +my master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with +fear. I was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a +blow. “When is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. +A shower of oaths and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that +my lover was a free man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for +speaking to me in the street! + +Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There +was no hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He +had an iron will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. +My lover was an intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have +obtained permission to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would +give him no power to protect me from my master. It would have made him +miserable to witness the insults I should have been subjected to. And +then, if we had children, I knew they must “follow the condition of the +mother.” What a terrible blight that would be on the heart of a free, +intelligent father! For _his_ sake, I felt that I ought not to link his +fate with my own unhappy destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about +a little property left him by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my +feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not to come back. I advised +him to go to the Free States, where his tongue would not be tied, and +where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. He left me, still +hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With me the lamp of +hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I felt lonely and +desolate. + +Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, +and my affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and +looked into my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, +I felt that I still had something to love. But even that pleasant +emotion was chilled by the reflection that he might be torn from me +at any moment, by some sudden freak of my master. If he had known +how we loved each other, I think he would have exulted in separating +us. We often planned together how we could get to the north. But, as +William remarked, such things are easier said than done. My movements +were very closely watched, and we had no means of getting any money to +defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she was strongly opposed to +her children’s undertaking any such project. She had not forgotten poor +Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if another child tried +to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To me, nothing +seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, “William +_must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him.” Many +a slave sister has formed the same plans. + + + + + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + + +Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were +to hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small +respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I +cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, +they tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe +them to be in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told +me that he had seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she +besought him to take her back to her master, for she was literally +dying of starvation; that many days she had only one cold potato to +eat, and at other times could get nothing at all. He said he refused to +take her, because he knew her master would not thank him for bringing +such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended by saying to me, “This +is the punishment she brought on herself for running away from a kind +master.” + +This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in +New York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never +thought of such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of +the slaves believe such stories, and think it is not worth while to +exchange slavery for such a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to +persuade such that freedom could make them useful men, and enable them +to protect their wives and children. If those heathen in our Christian +land had as much teaching as some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. +They would know that liberty is more valuable than life. They would +begin to understand their own capabilities, and exert themselves to +become men and women. + +But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back +into slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are +some who strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of +their masters; but those who have such sentiments have had advantages +above the general mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized +and Christianized by favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to +_utter_ such sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of +them! + +Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will +sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives +and daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an +inferior order of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born +and brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I +admit that the black man _is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him +so? It is the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is +the torturing whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce +bloodhounds of the South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds +of the north, who enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work. + +Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about +the Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest +work for them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised +negro-hunters are employed to do at home. When southerners go to the +north, they are proud to do them honor; but the northern man is not +welcome south of Mason and Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every +thought and feeling at variance with their “peculiar institution.” +Nor is it enough to be silent. The masters are not pleased, unless +they obtain a greater degree of subservience than that; and they are +generally accommodated. Do they respect the northerner for this? I trow +not. Even the slaves despise “a northern man with southern principles;” +and that is the class they generally see. When northerners go to the +south to reside, they prove very apt scholars. They soon imbibe the +sentiments and disposition of their neighbors, and generally go beyond +their teachers. Of the two, they are proverbially the hardest masters. + +They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God +created the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly +Father, who “made of one blood all nations of men!” And then who _are_ +Africans? Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in +the veins of American slaves? + +I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad +opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are +aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most +ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could +read; and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers +about white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their +freedom for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made +them free, and that it is established by law, but that their masters +prevent the law from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a +newspaper and read it over. She said her husband told her that the +black people had sent word to the queen of ’Merica that they were all +slaves; that she didn’t believe it, and went to Washington city to see +the president about it. They quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, +and swore that he should help her to make them all free. + +That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a +Queen, to whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was +subordinate to Queen Justice. + + + + + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + + +There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call +Mr. Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He +had six hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His +extensive plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a +jail and a whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were +perpetrated there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually +screened by his great wealth that he was called to no account for his +crimes, not even for murder. + +Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a +rope round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was +kindled over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As +this cooked, the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare +flesh. On his own plantation, he required very strict obedience to the +eighth commandment. But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, +provided the culprit managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a +neighbor brought a charge of theft against any of his slaves, he was +browbeaten by the master, who assured him that his slaves had enough of +every thing at home, and had no inducement to steal. No sooner was the +neighbor’s back turned, than the accused was sought out, and whipped +for his lack of discretion. If a slave stole from him even a pound of +meat or a peck of corn, if detection followed, he was put in chains +and imprisoned, and so kept till his form was attenuated by hunger and +suffering. + +A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the +plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles +of wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their +huts. They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a +club felled them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their +interment was a dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + +Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after +nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + +His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His +bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to +the slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if they tracked him, +they literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder +died, his shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his +own friends. His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money +with me.” + +After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver +dollars were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this +circumstance, a rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with +money. Three times his grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The +last time, his body was found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards +were pecking at it. He was again interred, and a sentinel set over his +grave. The perpetrators were never discovered. + +Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a +neighbor of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial +state of intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He +was divested of his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to +a large tree in front of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. +The wind blew bitterly cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled +under falling sleet. A member of the family, fearing he would freeze +to death, begged that he might be taken down; but the master would +not relent. He remained there three hours; and, when he was cut down, +he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole a pig from this +master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In desperation, he +tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so faint with +loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he longed to +see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long distance +on his hands and knees. When he reached his master’s, it was night. +He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried +to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last +his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the +gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men returned +with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of +his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened +it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left +him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When +his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his +hunger. This was his crime. + +Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there +cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the +dawn, and did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her +particular place of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might +of a man. An old slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s +house. ’Pears I can never get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + +The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her +husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. +A slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, +watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where +lay her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand +and dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is +got you _now_!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just +begun to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy +did strike ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The +master was startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain +access to the room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. +He questioned her. She confessed that what the child had said was true, +and told how she had procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + +In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved +her, as all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to +Louisiana. Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. +He became involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy +slaveholder, noted for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to +manhood, receiving the treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, +to save himself from further infliction of the lash, with which he +was threatened, he took to the woods. He was in a most miserable +condition—cut by the cowskin, half naked, half starved, and without the +means of procuring a crust of bread. + +Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to +his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on +bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the +poor slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should +have whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the +screws of the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. +This wretched creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, +then washed with strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, +and make it heal sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into +the cotton gin, which was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn +on his side when he could not lie on his back. Every morning a slave +was sent with a piece of bread and bowl of water, which were placed +within reach of the poor fellow. The slave was charged, under penalty +of severe punishment, not to speak to him. + +Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and +water. On the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water +untouched. When he had been in the press four days and five nights, +the slave informed his master that the water had not been used for +four mornings, and that a horrible stench came from the gin house. The +overseer was sent to examine into it. When the press was unscrewed, the +dead body was found partly eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats +that devoured his bread had gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor +Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each other how her affectionate +heart would bear the news, if she should ever hear of the murder of +her son. We had known her husband, and knew that James was like him in +manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities that made it so +hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a rough box, +and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested for +an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the +feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his +own property. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had +hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must +hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their +pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went his patrol +rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives had +gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall +asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn +called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, +unless they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on +a par with animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, +who had run away and been brought back to him. No one called him to +account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds +were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The +master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a perfect +gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, though +Satan never had a truer follower. + +I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. +They are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are +no humane slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the +hardening influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few +and far between.” + +I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an +orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their +father was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, +parents and children living together. The mother and eldest daughter +served their mistress during the day, and at night returned to their +dwelling, which was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and +there was some reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead +pure lives, and wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. +_Her_ religion was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till +Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was +promised in marriage to a free man; and the day before the wedding this +good mistress emancipated her, in order that her marriage might have +the sanction of _law_. + +Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for +a man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a +rich uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons +by a colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan +niece. The metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty +purse became his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that +her marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she +wished to insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, +saying that she had always been their best friend, and they could not +be so happy any where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often +seen them in their comfortable home, and thought that the whole town +did not contain a happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, +when it was too late, they were convinced of its reality. + +When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father +became furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do +nothing for you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I +had a week ago. I have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; +but I cannot obtain it for your children.” The unhappy father swore +that nobody should take his children from him. He concealed them in the +woods for some days; but they were discovered and taken. The father was +put in jail, and the two oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, +too young to be of service to her master, was left with the wretched +mother. The other three were carried to their master’s plantation. The +eldest soon became a mother, and, when the slaveholder’s wife looked at +the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her own husband had violated +the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She had a second child by +her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to his brother. She +bore two children to the brother, and was sold again. The next sister +went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. The third +one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the fourth +the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to +the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed +away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made +so wretched by the man she loved. + +This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve +his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of +drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good +master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, +and the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many +others. Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, +and his wife a happier woman. + +No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption +produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of +licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and +his sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, +or his sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe +her with presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is +whipped or starved into submission to their will. She may have had +religious principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or +some good mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace +of mind are dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power +over her may be exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + + “The poor worm + Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day + Shall pass, and she is gone!” + +The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by +the unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s +daughters always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him +for the wrongs he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white +daughters early hear their parents quarrelling about some female slave. +Their curiosity is excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are +attended by the young slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and +they hear such talk as should never meet youthful ears, or any other +ears. They know that the women slaves are subject to their father’s +authority in all things; and in some cases they exercise the same +authority over the men slaves. I have myself seen the master of such a +household whose head was bowed down in shame; for it was known in the +neighborhood that his daughter had selected one of the meanest slaves +on his plantation to be the father of his first grandchild. She did +not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her father’s more +intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over whom her +authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her father, +half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending +black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had +given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + +In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen +by any who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, +instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the +market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be +their inevitable destiny. + +You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was +twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my +own experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites +as well as to the blacks. It makes the white fathers cruel and sensual; +the sons violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and +makes the wives wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an +abler pen than mine to describe the extremity of their sufferings, the +depth of their degradation. + +Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin +occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton +crops—not of the blight on their children’s souls. + +If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go +on a southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there +will be no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem +to you impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + + + + + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + + +After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to +have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. +In the blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small +house for me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I +shuddered; but I was constrained to listen, while he talked of his +intention to give me a home of my own, and to make a lady of me. +Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded fate, by being in the midst of +people. My grandmother had already had high words with my master about +me. She had told him pretty plainly what she thought of his character, +and there was considerable gossip in the neighborhood about our +affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs. Flint contributed +not a little. When my master said he was going to build a house for +me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I was in +hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon heard +that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I would +never enter it. I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till +dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day, +through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I +so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and +made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, +succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any +thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? +I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into +the abyss. + +And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would +gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and +shame. It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell +you the truth, and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it +may. I will not try to screen myself behind the plea of compulsion +from a master; for it was not so. Neither can I plead ignorance or +thoughtlessness. For years, my master had done his utmost to pollute my +mind with foul images, and to destroy the pure principles inculcated by +my grandmother, and the good mistress of my childhood. The influences +of slavery had had the same effect on me that they had on other young +girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, concerning the evil +ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with deliberate +calculation. + +But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, +who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes +are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too +severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married +the man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and +I should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now +about to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I +wanted to keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, +I tried hard to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone +in the powerful grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too +strong for me. I felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my +efforts must be frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + +I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy +had given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it +chanced that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge +of the circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, +and often spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and +asked questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed +a great deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought +opportunities to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave +girl, only fifteen years old. + +So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; +for human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his +sympathy, and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great +thing to have such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept +into my heart. He was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, +alas, for the poor slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw +whither all this was tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; +but to be an object of interest to a man who is not married, and who +is not her master, is agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, +if her miserable situation has left her any pride or sentiment. It +seems less degrading to give one’s self, than to submit to compulsion. +There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control +over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment. A +master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare not speak; +moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried man, as +with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry +in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of +morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible. + +When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely +cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and +calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere +gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much +as to know that I favored another; and it was something to triumph over +my tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by +selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was +a man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my +freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now +came so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the +mother of children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that +as soon as a new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get +rid of them; especially if they had children. I had seen several women +sold, with his babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring +by slaves to remain long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man +who was not my master I could ask to have my children well supported; +and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain the boon. I also +felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all these thoughts +revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping the doom I +so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, +O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be +entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to +the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. +You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding +the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his +footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did +wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful and +humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking +back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman +ought not to be judged by the same standard as others. + +The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned +over the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to +shield me from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old +age, and that it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded +myself, like most of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was +no longer worthy of her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + +As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the +thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended +arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the +cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would +never enter it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You +shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + +I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + +He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without +a word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now +that the truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt +wretched. Humble as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good +character. Now, how could I look them in the face? My self-respect was +gone! I had resolved that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I +had said, “Let the storm beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, +how humiliated I felt! + +I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the +words stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door +and began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter +with me. The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no +security for her children. After they have entered their teens she +lives in daily expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If +the girl is of a sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering +truthfully, and this well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from +maternal counsels. Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, +and accused me concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions +had been previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O +Linda! has it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you +as you now are. You are a disgrace to your dead mother.” She tore from +my fingers my mother’s wedding ring and her silver thimble. “Go away!” +she exclaimed, “and never come to my house, again.” Her reproaches fell +so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, +such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from +my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but +the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me +like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I longed +to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had +ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, +I mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did +I now close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager +hand in my childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard +before. + +Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on +recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When +I had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat +down on the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the +boughs above me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! +The hours passed by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly +sickness came over me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid +thoughts. I prayed to die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, +with great effort I roused myself, and walked some distance further, +to the house of a woman who had been a friend of my mother. When I +told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly to me; but I could +not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I could only be +reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to her. I +thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had +been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My +friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing +suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She +came at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had +poisoned my life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way +of escape; and in an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She +listened in silence. I told her I would bear any thing and do any +thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of +her to pity me, for my dead mother’s sake. And she did pity me. She did +not say, “I forgive you;” but she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes +full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my head, and murmured, +“Poor child! Poor child!” + + + + + XI. The New Tie To Life. + + +I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with +Mr. Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe +lamb,—whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about +character,—he made no answer; but he spoke kind and encouraging words. +He promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what +they might. + +I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since +I made the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought +on myself; how I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old +grandmother. He intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as +a physician, could have saved me from exposure. He even condescended +to pity me. Could he have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose +persecutions had been the cause of my sin! + +“Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for +you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the +fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive +me, you shall feel the fires of hell.” + +I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was +gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his +abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had +always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I +might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. +“I have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against +you.” + +He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, +with ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could +grind your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some +worthless rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded +by those who don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle +accounts between us. You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be +convinced that your master was your best friend. My lenity towards you +is a proof of it. I might have punished you in many ways. I might have +had you whipped till you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to +live; I would have bettered your condition. Others cannot do it. You +are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, forbids you to +return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the present; but I +shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + +He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. +After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, +and who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his +duty; that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to +have explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the +most shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. +“I command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your +child is white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he +exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my +arm as if he would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a +hissing tone. + +“I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + +He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what +arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last +he spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; +but your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my +good intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from +killing you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + +But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and +crime. You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the +father of your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive +any thing from him. I will take care of you and your child. You had +better promise this at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. +This is the last act of mercy I shall show towards you.” + +I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a +man who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had +sunk to my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for +the last time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + +“Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward +course. Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always +be my slave. I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + +Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had +calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I +knew the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + +About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. +The day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young +friend. My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did +not betray it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it +had wrought! My heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in +sunshine, and lives that are born in tears, receive their hue from +circumstances. None of us know what a year may bring forth. + +I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see +me, though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but +at last consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he +always had done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my +burning cheeks! The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps +your mother and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My +disappointed heart could now praise God that it was so. But why, +thought I, did my relatives ever cherish hopes for me? What was there +to save me from the usual fate of slave girls? Many more beautiful and +more intelligent than I had experienced a similar fate, or a far worse +one. How could they hope that I should escape? + +My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill +in mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I +was unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, +and I would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing +illness, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as +he entered the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very +critical. He had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + +When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four +pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive +till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to +die, unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able +to leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there +was scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also +was sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint +continued his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to +remind me that my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + +I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks +in silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could +not remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was +made the medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a +bright lad, and of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up +medicines, to leech, cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read +and spell. I was proud of my brother; and the old doctor suspected as +much. One day, when I had not seen him for several weeks, I heard his +steps approaching the door. I dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He +inquired for me, of course; but I was nowhere to be found. He went to +his office, and despatched William with a note. The color mounted to +my brother’s face when he gave it to me; and he said, “Don’t you hate +me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him I could not blame +him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master’s will. The note +ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to know where I +was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a passion, +and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual themes,—my +crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The laws +were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated +that my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would +be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend +me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. This +manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing +to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so early +as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity +to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent +a trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was +greatly incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put +him there to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not +giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to +find somebody to do his office work; but every thing went wrong without +William. He was released, and ordered to take his old stand, with many +threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior. + +As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year +old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in +my existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love +and pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his +smiles. I loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a +dark cloud over my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. +Sometimes I wished that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My +darling became very ill. The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet +and hands were so icy cold that I thought death had already touched +them. I had prayed for his death, but never so earnestly as I now +prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. Alas, what mockery it is +for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying child to life! Death +is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I had no name to give +my child. His father caressed him and treated him kindly, whenever he +had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he should bear his +name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had bestowed it upon +him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a new piece of +insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the serpent of +Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + + + + + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + + +Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the +news threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be +alarmed, when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + +It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion +every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called +country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their +places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some +without hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the +slaves were told there was to be another muster, they were surprised +and rejoiced. Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a +holiday. I was informed of the true state of affairs, and imparted it +to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to +every slave; but I dared not. All could not be relied on. Mighty is the +power of the torturing lash. + +By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty +miles of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I +expected it would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I +knew nothing annoyed them so much as to see colored people living +in comfort and respectability; so I made arrangements for them with +especial care. I arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as +neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, and decorated +some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at +the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on a motley +crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. The +men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. +Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, +wherever a colored face was to be found. + +It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes +of their own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise +a little brief authority, and show their subserviency to the +slaveholders; not reflecting that the power which trampled on the +colored people also kept themselves in poverty, ignorance, and moral +degradation. Those who never witnessed such scenes can hardly believe +what I know was inflicted at this time on innocent men, women, +and children, against whom there was not the slightest ground for +suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts of +the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchers +scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other +parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were +plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were +whipped till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received +five hundred lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured +with a bucking paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings +of the colored people, unless they happened to be protected by some +influential white person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing +and every thing else the marauders thought worth carrying away. +All day long these unfeeling wretches went round, like a troop of +demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At night, they formed +themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they chose among the +colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women hid themselves +in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of the husbands +or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public +whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. +The consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest +tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking together. + +I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were +in the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to +receive the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we +heard the tramp of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely +pushed open; and in they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They +snatched at every thing within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, +and corner underwent a thorough examination. A box in one of the +drawers containing some silver change was eagerly pounced upon. When I +stepped forward to take it from them, one of the soldiers turned and +said angrily, “What d’ye foller us fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come +to steal?” + +I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, +and I will take it, if you please.” + +At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I +called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay +till the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the +house brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was +to guard the outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates +left it. This officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I +mentioned, in the account of neighboring planters, as being notorious +for his cruelty. He felt above soiling his hands with the search. He +merely gave orders; and, if a bit of writing was discovered, it was +carried to him by his ignorant followers, who were unable to read. + +My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that +was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, +“Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + +My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, +said, “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from _your_ houses.” + +“Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you +seem to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White +folks oughter have ’em all.” + +His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got +’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + +There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon +examination, proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In +packing away my things, I had overlooked them. When their captain +informed them of their contents, they seemed much disappointed. He +inquired of me who wrote them. I told him it was one of my friends. +“Can you read them?” he asked. When I told him I could, he swore, and +raved, and tore the paper into bits. “Bring me all your letters!” said +he, in a commanding tone. I told him I had none. “Don’t be afraid,” he +continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them all to me. Nobody shall +do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey him, his pleasant tone +changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? half free niggers?” +inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are from white +people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I +destroy without reading.” + +An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our +conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned +buffet had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of +preserving fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers +for parties; consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet +that contained these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One +of them, who was helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the +shoulder, and said, “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill +all de white folks, when dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I +stretched out my hand to take the jar, saying, “You were not sent here +to search for sweetmeats.” + +“And what _were_ we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. I +evaded the question. + +The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn +us. They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush +and vine, with no better success. The captain called his men together, +and, after a short consultation, the order to march was given. As they +passed out of the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a +malediction on the house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, +and each of its inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of +this affair very fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing +apparel. + +Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated +by drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts +continually rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under +the window curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored +people, each white man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant +death if they did not stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a +respectable old colored minister. They had found a few parcels of shot +in his house, which his wife had for years used to balance her scales. +For this they were going to shoot him on Court House Green. What a +spectacle was that for a civilized country! A rabble, staggering under +intoxication, assuming to be the administrators of justice! + +The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the +innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, +by keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last +the white citizens found that their own property was not safe from the +lawless rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the +drunken swarm, drove them back into the country, and set a guard over +the town. + +The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored +people that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were +committed with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked +out, I saw horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, +and compelled by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they +arrived at the jail yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully +to walk were washed with brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to +jail. One black man, who had not fortitude to endure scourging, +promised to give information about the conspiracy. But it turned out +that he knew nothing at all. He had not even heard the name of Nat +Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a story, which augmented +his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + +The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night +guard was substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored +people, bond or free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat +appeased by the capture of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. +The slaves were sent to their masters, and the free were permitted +to return to their ravaged homes. Visiting was strictly forbidden on +the plantations. The slaves begged the privilege of again meeting at +their little church in the woods, with their burying ground around it. +It was built by the colored people, and they had no higher happiness +than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour out their hearts +in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the church was +demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a certain +portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, when +every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction +had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored +friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, +in commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your +Father, and all ye are brethren.” + + + + + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + + +After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the +slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the +slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering +their masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate +service on Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very +few, and also very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight +with him. The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them +to worship. The Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the +afternoon; but their carpets and cushions were not so costly as those +at the Episcopal church. It was at last decided that they should meet +at the house of a free colored man, who was a member. + +I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, +and, trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured +out by daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn +to encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to +his office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of +dress. When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons +present. The reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, +and requested all present, who could read, to open their books, while +he gave out the portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + +His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters +according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your +heart, as unto Christ.” + +Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, +solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my +words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all +manner of evil. ’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, +and will surely punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You +that live in town are eye-servants behind your master’s back. Instead +of serving your masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of +your heavenly Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. +You tell lies. God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping +him, you are hidden away somewhere, feasting on your master’s +substance; tossing coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or +cutting cards with another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, +but God sees you, and will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! +When your master’s work is done, are you quietly together, thinking of +the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, +and tying up little bags of roots to bury under the door-steps to +poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away to every grog +shop to sell your master’s corn, that you may buy rum to drink. God +sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, to +pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you out, God sees +you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful ways, and be +faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your old +mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, +you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When +you go from here, don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but +go directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have +come.” + +The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother +Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the +next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last +discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he +found it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should +be glad to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + +I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for +the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found +that the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, +since its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any +thing but pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman +descended from his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to +enjoy a Methodist shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and +singing at religious meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to +the gate of heaven than sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced +Christians, who see wounded Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + +The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do +not trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the +following verses: + + “Old Satan is one busy ole man; + He rolls dem blocks all in my way; + But Jesus is my bosom friend; + He rolls dem blocks away. + + “If I had died when I was young, + Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung; + But I am ole, and now I stand + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land.” + +I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. +I went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, +bereaved mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class +leader was the town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who +whipped his brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping +post, in jail or out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian +office any where for fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted +brother came near us, and said to the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t +you tell us how the Lord deals with your soul? Do you love him as you +did formerly?” + +She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, +help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from +me, and I am left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, +she continued, “I can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all +my children. Last week they took the last one. God only knows where +they’ve sold her. They let me have her sixteen years, and then—— O! O! +Pray for her brothers and sisters! I’ve got nothing to live for now. +God make my time short!” + +She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class +leader become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he +held up his handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor +woman’s calamity might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed +gravity, he said to the bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that +every dispensation of his divine will may be sanctified to the good of +your poor needy soul!” + +The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free +as the birds that warbled round us,— + + “Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; + He missed my soul, and caught my sins. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + “He took my sins upon his back; + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + “Ole Satan’s church is here below. + Up to God’s free church I hope to go. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!” + +Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them +at such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of +singing and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling +without wages, under constant dread of the lash? + +The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had +been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was +large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different +clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored +people, who said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved +him, and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even +the slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five +slaves. His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her +and themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to +the needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty +of having a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon +adapted to their comprehension. After much argument and importunity, +it was finally agreed that they might occupy the gallery of the +church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hitherto unaccustomed +to attend church, now gladly went to hear the gospel preached. The +sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was the +first time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not +long before his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was +accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. +He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons +than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in such ignorance +that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. +Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them +in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of +these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her slaves +gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, “I have tried +to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it has +not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but +prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. +May we meet in a better world.” Her liberated slaves were sent away, +with funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long +bless the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death +her husband preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at +his departure. + +Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his +former congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored +people. “My friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have +an opportunity of speaking to you again. For two years I have been +striving to do something for the colored people of my own parish; but +nothing is yet accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. +Try to live according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is +darker than mine; but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color +of their skins.” This was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It +was very offensive to slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made +fools of their slaves, and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + +I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were +beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist +church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he +should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He +came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, +for he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season +for it came. I asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and +that slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to +read. This brought the tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle +Fred,” said I. “I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only +told you of the law, that you might know the danger, and be on your +guard.” He thought he could plan to come three times a week without +its being suspected. I selected a quiet nook, where no intruder was +likely to penetrate, and there I taught him his A, B, C. Considering +his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as he could spell in two +syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. The happy smile +that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spelling out a +few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it ’pears when I can read dis +good book I shall be nearer to God. White man is got all de sense. He +can larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man like me. I only wants +to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I hab no fear ’bout +dying.” + +I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. +“Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + +I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness I imparted, +were more than a recompense for all my trouble. + +At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and +could find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, +I said, “Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + +“Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat +I don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I +reads. And he _does_ help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + +There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the +water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. +They send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at +home. I am glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the +earth; but I ask them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to +American slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell _them_ it +is wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own +children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that +all men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light +of knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for +sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + +There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as +this; but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, +and would be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as +others have been before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and +awaits the reapers. Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may +have freely imparted to them the divine treasures, which he sought by +stealth, at the risk of the prison and the scourge. + +Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some +are the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest +in the poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be +so _easily_ blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first +time, has usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. +The slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes +himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred +topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table +loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and +sees the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts +of favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with +these slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, “O, +no, massa.” This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish +a “South-Side View of Slavery,” and to complain of the exaggerations +of abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, +and seen slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful “patriarchal +institution;” that the slaves don’t want their freedom; that they have +hallelujah meetings, and other religious privileges. + +What does _he_ know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till +dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn +from their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into +moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds +trained to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? +The slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared +not tell of them if he had asked them. + +There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the +south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the +treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is +called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, +the church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, +it does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + +When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was +much surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the +character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were +after he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day +after he had been confirmed, certainly gave _me_ no indication that he +had “renounced the devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his +usual talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, +Linda,” said he. “It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, +and my position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the +damned slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda.” + +“There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be +allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + +“You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be +as virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + +I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + +His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about +your infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my +negro, to talk to me about what you would like, and what you wouldn’t +like? I am your master, and you shall obey me.” + +No wonder the slaves sing,— + + “Ole Satan’s church is here below; + Up to God’s free church I hope to go.” + + + + + XIV. Another Link To Life. + + +I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. +The old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; +but his wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me +if I came back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay +away for a season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare +discourse about his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, +most unnecessarily, to convince me that I had lowered myself. The +venomous old reprobate had no need of descanting on that theme. I felt +humiliated enough. My unconscious babe was the ever-present witness +of my shame. I listened with silent contempt when he talked about my +having forfeited _his_ good opinion; but I shed bitter tears that I was +no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. Alas! slavery +still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance for me to be +respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a better life. + +Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he +called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps +that will humble you,” said he. + +Humble _me_! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated +my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders +have been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the +condition of the _mother_,” not of the _father_; thus taking care that +licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made +me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid +visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall +into the slave trader’s hands. I wept over him, and said, “O my child! +perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw +you into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + +When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was +exasperated beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with +a pair of shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about +my pride of arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, +storming and swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, +and he struck me. Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in +a fit of passion; and the injury I received was so serious that I was +unable to turn myself in bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I +swear by God I will never raise my hand against you again;” but I knew +that he would forget his promise. + +After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from +the pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as +no pen can describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were +too low, too revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s +knowledge as much as I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, +without having my troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me +with violence, and heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a +man’s tongue, she could not always hold her peace. It was natural and +motherlike that she should try to defend me; but it only made matters +worse. + +When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier +than it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is +far more terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, +_they_ have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their +own. + +Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for +this new crime against _him_, as he called it; and as long as he had me +in his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my +babe, he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring +my baby to him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room +to prepare some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. +I rose, took up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now +stand there,” said he, “till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a +strong resemblance to her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her +grandmother. He noticed this; and while I stood before him, trembling +with weakness, he heaped upon me and my little one every vile epithet +he could think of. Even the grandmother in her grave did not escape +his curses. In the midst of his vituperations I fainted at his feet. +This recalled him to his senses. He took the baby from my arms, laid +it on the bed, dashed cold water in my face, took me up, and shook me +violently, to restore my consciousness before any one entered the room. +Just then my grandmother came in, and he hurried out of the house. I +suffered in consequence of this treatment; but I begged my friends +to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There was nothing I +dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I was glad for +the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to life, I +should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived only +nineteen years. + +Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a +name. Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the +offer, I dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would +not be accepted at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least +entitled to; and we resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, +who had gone far away from us. + +My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of +having the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and +I did not venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called +to visit a patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during +Sunday. “Now is the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the +children to church, and have them christened.” + +When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, +and I felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, +without any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such +legal rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been +sacred to _her_, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was +not alive, to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren +were presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my +mother’s? _Her_ master had died when she was a child; and she remained +with her mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any +master; and thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall +upon slaves. + +When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my +father stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To +this I added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right +to it; for my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. +What tangled skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; +but it mortified me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + +When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home +with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her +for this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to +be fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How +earnestly I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s +chain, whose iron entereth into the soul! + + + + + XV. Continued Persecutions. + + +My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an +exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one +of these days.” + +I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass +into his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than +have them given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself +and my children could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that +circumstance. Dr. Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After +much discussion, my friends resolved on making another trial. There was +a slaveholder about to leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy +me. He was to begin with nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My +master refused his offers. “Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She +is my daughter’s property, and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust +that you come from her paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot +buy her for any money; neither can he buy her children.” + +The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he +entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. +He seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children +had learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes +and hide her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who +was now nearly five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad +man come here so many times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp +the dear boy in my arms, trusting that he would be free before he was +old enough to solve the problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so +grim and silent, the child left his play and came and nestled up by +me. At last my tormentor spoke. “So you are left in disgust, are you?” +said he. “It is no more than I expected. You remember I told you years +ago that you would be treated so. So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! +The virtuous madam don’t like to hear about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” +There was a sting in his calling me virtuous madam. I no longer had +the power of answering him as I had formerly done. He continued: “So +it seems you are trying to get up another intrigue. Your new paramour +came to me, and offered to buy you; but you may be assured you will not +succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine for life. There lives no +human being that can take you out of slavery. I would have done it; but +you rejected my kind offer.” + +I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen +the man who offered to buy me. + +“Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will +you say again that you never saw that man?” + +I answered, “I do say so.” + +He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I +told him to go to his grandmother. + +“Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew +nearer to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. +This was too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled +him across the room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to +take him up. + +“Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + +“Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” +I struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the +door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I +turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, +so pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t +know whether I was very happy. All the doctor’s former persecutions +were renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover +ever watched a rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown +slaveholder, with whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. +When my grandmother was out of the way he searched every room to find +him. + +In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had +sold to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold +her because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had +a bitter life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, +and no near ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. +A few friends had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader +would allow her to spend with them the time that intervened between +her sale and the gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was +rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense of board and jail fees, +and though the amount was small, it was a weighty consideration in a +slave-trader’s mind. + +Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold +them. He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her +master, and she took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was +the conqueror. His gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the +extent of his power. “How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What +right had you to allow it, when you knew I had sold her?” + +I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. +I have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for +honest purposes.” + +He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still +been his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud +voices, and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not +a woman to let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The +doctor undertook to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant +feelings rose higher and higher, and finally boiled over in words. +“Get out of my house!” she exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your +wife and children, and you will have enough to do, without watching my +family.” + +He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of +sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her +by compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the +one to blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew +more and more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” +said she, “you ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be +saying your prayers. It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the +dirt off your soul.” + +“Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + +She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + +He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes +met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful +and weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen +her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always +kind, always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have +been peace and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for +the demon Slavery. + +The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; +and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive +also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was +dreaming of freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I +planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way +of overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + +Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend +had invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my +great consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint +was at my grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell +him where I was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my +friend’s house. They sent me a dark wrapper; I threw it on and hurried +home. My speed did not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. +I dreaded the morning, but I could not delay it; it came, warm and +bright. At an early hour the doctor came and asked me where I had been +last night. I told him. He did not believe me, and sent to my friend’s +house to ascertain the facts. He came in the afternoon to assure me +he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. He seemed to be in a +facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. “I suppose you +need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised at your being +there, among those negroes. It was not the place for _you_. Are you +_allowed_ to visit such people?” + +I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my +friend; but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any +company they keep is good enough for me.” + +He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my +interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy +on you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for +yourself and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If +you agree to what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. +There must be no communication of any kind between you and their +father. I will procure a cottage, where you and the children can live +together. Your labor shall be light, such as sewing for my family. +Think what is offered you, Linda—a home and freedom! Let the past be +forgotten. If I have been harsh with you at times, your wilfulness +drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from my own children, and I +consider you as yet a child.” + +He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. “Why don’t you speak?” +said he. “What more do you wait for?” + +“Nothing, sir.” + +“Then you accept my offer?” + +“No, sir.” + +His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and +replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know +there are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, +you will be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my +offer, or you and your children shall be sent to your young master’s +plantation, there to remain till your young mistress is married; and +your children shall fare like the rest of the negro children. I give +you a week to consider of it.” + +He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was +ready to give my answer now. + +“I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from +impulse. Remember that you and your children can be free a week from +to-day if you choose.” + +On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew +that my master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape +would be impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was +sure if he gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no +legal value. The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the +plantation. But then I thought how completely I should be in his power, +and the prospect was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and +implore him to spare me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would +spurn me with his foot, and my weakness would be his triumph. + +Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be +married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should +occupy in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation +for punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall +me very soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my +master and save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept +my plans to myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from +them, and I would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + +On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a +wise choice. + +“I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + +“Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” +said he. + +I told him I had. + +“Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he +replied. “Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and +your girl shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own +ways!” He left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + +As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, +child, what did you tell him?” + +I answered that I was going to the plantation. + +“_Must_ you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + +I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. +She said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how +faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own +baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had +been out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would +pay them for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more +strength for the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she +persisted in saying, “He will listen to _me_, Linda.” She went, and was +treated as I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied +her request. He told her that what he did was for my good, that my +feelings were entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I +would receive treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + +My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must +fight my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for +my children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a +brighter dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his +side; I had a determined will. There is might in each. + + + + + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + + +Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. +My boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the +old wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little +one was to be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I +thought of the time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I +wondered for what purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved +to obey orders so far as duty required; but within myself, I determined +to make my stay as short as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive +us, and told me to follow him up stairs to receive orders for the day. +My little Ellen was left below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, +who had always been so carefully tended. My young master said she might +amuse herself in the yard. This was kind of him, since the child was +hateful to his sight. My task was to fit up the house for the reception +of the bride. In the midst of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and +carpeting, my head was as busy planning, as were my fingers with the +needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to +sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbor, “I’ve got her down here, +and I’ll soon take the town notions out of her head. My father is +partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her in long +ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have been +quite as manly to have made it to my face. He _had_ said things to my +face which might, or might not, have surprised his neighbor if he had +known of them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + +I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of +a lady, so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with +wretchedness before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how +much easier it would be to see her die than to see her master beat her +about, as I daily saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the +mothers was so crushed by the lash, that they stood by, without courage +to remonstrate. How much more must I suffer, before I should be “broke +in” to that degree? + +I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an +opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections +that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my +lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with +a suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. +Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, +and in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window +where I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart +bleed. I was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it +ceased. I looked out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured +to go down in search of her. The great house was raised two feet above +the ground. I looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. +I crept under and drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought +how well it would be for her if she never waked up; and I uttered my +thought aloud. I was startled to hear some one say, “Did you speak to +me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. Flint standing beside me. He said nothing +further, but turned, frowning, away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit +and a cup of sweetened milk. This generosity surprised me. I learned +afterwards, that in the afternoon he had killed a large snake, which +crept from under the house; and I supposed that incident had prompted +his unusual kindness. + +The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I +put Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I +ought to have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and +required attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he +was aware that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + +I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. +It must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from +town, and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, +I knew, often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all +was quiet, we started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not +long in performing the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her +bed room was on the first floor, and the window was open, the weather +being warm. I spoke to her and she awoke. She let me in and closed the +window, lest some late passer-by should see me. A light was brought, +and the whole household gathered round me, some smiling and some +crying. I went to look at my children, and thanked God for their happy +sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. As I moved to leave, Benny +stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother is here.” After digging +at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and he sat up in bed, +looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that it was I, he +exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dead, are you? They didn’t cut off your +head at the plantation, did they?” + +My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny +back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. +Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we +were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s +hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large +tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a +recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with +them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation +we heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their +corn. We were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to +their labor. I divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing +that he had lost the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day +in the field. + +Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one +was idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because +he knew nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he +contented himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his +father the necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of +his affairs, and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him +too well to consent to that arrangement. + +When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of +Mr. Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid +fifty dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, +when she stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old +lady, whom we all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with +us. On such occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, +and the china cups and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned +buffet. There were hot muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. +My grandmother kept two cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s +delight. She invariably declared that it was the best in town. The +old ladies had cosey times together. They would work and chat, and +sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles would get dim +with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny +bade us good by, her bag was filled with grandmother’s best cakes, and +she was urged to come again soon. + +There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with +us, and when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt +Marthy’s” nice cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy +and spite, she was angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me +and my children. She would not even speak to her in the street. This +wounded my grandmother’s feelings, for she could not retain ill will +against the woman whom she had nourished with her milk when a babe. The +doctor’s wife would gladly have prevented our intercourse with Miss +Fanny if she could have done it, but fortunately she was not dependent +on the bounty of the Flints. She had enough to be independent; and that +is more than can ever be gained from charity, however lavish it may be. + +Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced +to see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made +the house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I +had many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to +see how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She +inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed +not. She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished +that I and all my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for +not until then should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul +did not dream that I was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard +to myself and my children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + +Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from +the town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape +for myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that +ingenuity could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had +proved abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen +his grasp upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more +for my helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. +Though the boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I +would not have taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. +Every trial I endured, every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew +them closer to my heart, and gave me fresh courage to beat back the +dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in a seemingly endless night +of storms. + +The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was +expected to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were +all completed, and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to +leave home on Saturday, and return with his bride the following +Wednesday. After receiving various orders from him, I ventured to ask +permission to spend Sunday in town. It was granted; for which favor I +was thankful. It was the first I had ever asked of him, and I intended +it should be the last. It needed more than one night to accomplish +the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday would give me an +opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A calmer, more +beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a day of +conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever spend +under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last talks +I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! +Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! +Well, better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the +doom that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save +her from it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the +graves of my poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There +the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There +the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; +the servant is free from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my +parents, and thanked God, as I had often done before, that they had not +lived to witness my trials, or to mourn over my sins. I had received +my mother’s blessing when she died; and in many an hour of tribulation +I had seemed to hear her voice, sometimes chiding me, sometimes +whispering loving words into my wounded heart. I have shed many and +bitter tears, to think that when I am gone from my children they cannot +remember me with such entire satisfaction as I remembered my mother. + +The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing +broke the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. +My spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than +ten years I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so +sacred as now. A black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all +that remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked +by a small wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were +nearly obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a +prayer to God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about +to take. As I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before +Nat Turner’s time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I +seemed to hear my father’s voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry +till I reached freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. +My trust in God had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + +My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain +there a few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor +would get discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of +subsequently finding my children among the missing, he would consent +to sell us; and I knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my +power to make my children comfortable during the time I expected to be +separated from them. I was packing my things, when grandmother came +into the room, and asked what I was doing. “I am putting my things +in order,” I replied. I tried to look and speak cheerfully; but her +watchful eye detected something beneath the surface. She drew me +towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked earnestly at me, and +said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old grandmother? Do you mean to +leave your little, helpless children? I am old now, and cannot do for +your babies as I once did for you.” + +I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to +secure their freedom. + +“Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your +own children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother +who forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have +a happy moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I +have to live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings +would be dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to +bear a little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + +My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that +faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and +that I would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + +Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my +lap, she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a +mother? She don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own +bosom, as if to reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all +the while that I loved them better than my life. I slept with her that +night, and it was the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a +year. + +On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with +preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful +day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The +poor creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the +bride, and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no +such hopes for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often +thought their authority and importance would be best established and +maintained by cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave +me no reason to expect that her rule over them would be less severe +than that of the master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the +most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their +masters sleep in safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and +yet they look upon their sufferings with less pity than they would +bestow on those of a horse or a dog. + +I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. +She was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with +emotion at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of +a happy future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how +soon clouds would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of +the house, and told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had +made. I was afraid old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against +me, and I did my best to please her. + +All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not +mind the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time +in my life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his +wife, who would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. +Flint had not made her appearance at the plantation during all the time +I was putting the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for +five years, and I had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, +and, doubtless, considered my present position a special answer to her +prayers. Nothing could please her better than to see me humbled and +trampled upon. I was just where she would have me—in the power of a +hard, unprincipled master. She did not speak to me when she took her +seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her +plate, was more eloquent than words. The old doctor was not so quiet +in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and there, and spoke with +peculiar emphasis when he said “your _mistress_.” I was drilled like a +disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last key turned, I sought +my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season of rest for the +weary. + +The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly +appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. +Monday evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the +slaves received their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, +a peck of corn, and perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. +Women received a pound and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the +same number of herring. Children over twelve years old had half the +allowance of the women. The meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of +the field hands, and piled on planks before the meat house. Then the +second foreman went behind the building, and when the first foreman +called out, “Who takes this piece of meat?” he answered by calling +somebody’s name. This method was resorted to as a means of preventing +partiality in distributing the meat. The young mistress came out to see +how things were done on her plantation, and she soon gave a specimen of +her character. Among those in waiting for their allowance was a very +old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family through three +generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the mistress +said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were too +old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered +much before he found rest in the grave. + +My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, +old Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time +with her daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of +the conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could +leave the plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to +keep me there. If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by +her, she would have had no fears of my accepting that condition. When +she entered her carriage to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, +“Don’t neglect to send for them as quick as possible.” My heart was on +the watch all the time, and I at once concluded that she spoke of my +children. The doctor came the next day, and as I entered the room to +spread the tea table, I heard him say, “Don’t wait any longer. Send for +them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. They thought my children’s +being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it was a good place +to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as slaves. After the +doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always manifested friendly +feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. Flint carried him +over the plantation to show him the results of labor performed by men +and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half famished. The +cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and the +gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered +to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, how do +you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I expected. +He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow they are +going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. +I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable to +thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought +to the plantation to be “broke in.” + +To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely +information. It nerved me to immediate action. + + + + + XVII. The Flight. + + +Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me +he had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of +course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave +them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead +of the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but +said I mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter +feathers on her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never +think of such a thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my +little one. I therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to +use it. I did as I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children +were to be put in their power, in order to give them a stronger hold +on me, I resolved to leave them that night. I remembered the grief +this step would bring upon my dear old grandmother; and nothing less +than the freedom of my children would have induced me to disregard her +advice. I went about my evening work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint +twice called from his chamber door to inquire why the house was not +locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. “You have had time +enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you answer me!” + +I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third +story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how +fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost +need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I +failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be +made to suffer for my fault. + +At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second +floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, +and looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I +could see nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. +Large drops of rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I +dropped on my knees, and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance +and protection. I groped my way to the road, and rushed towards the +town with almost lightning speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house, +but dared not see her. She would say, “Linda, you are killing me;” +and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped softly at the window of a +room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in the house several years. I +knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trusted with my secret. +I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she raised the +window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run away. Let me in, quick.” +She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, “For God’s sake, +don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands +was here last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he +wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would +help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all +bowed down wid trouble now.” + +I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the +plantation to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long +as they have me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + +“No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t +want de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey +knows ebery inch ob dis house.” + +I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her +to know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and +take all my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew +Mr. Flint and the constable would be there early to search my room. I +feared the sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; +but I could not go out into the uncertain future without one last look. +I bent over the bed where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor +little ones! fatherless and motherless! Memories of their father came +over me. He wanted to be kind to them; but they were not all to him, +as they were to my womanly heart. I knelt and prayed for the innocent +little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, and turned away. + +As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my +shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your +uncle.” + +“No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my +account.” + +I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the +house of the friend who was to conceal me. + +Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring +for me. She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the +plantation. He watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any +thing about her running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went +on to say, “Last night she ran off without the least provocation. We +had treated her very kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found +and brought back. Are her children with you?” When told that they were, +he said, “I am very glad to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be +far off. If I find out that any of my niggers have had any thing to do +with this damned business, I’ll give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he +started to go to his father’s, he turned round and added, persuasively, +“Let her be brought back, and she shall have her children to live with +her.” + +The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It +was a busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top +to bottom. As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes +with me. Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly +examined, and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on +board. At night a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed +my grandmother would be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could +not be done. Every one who went in or out of her house was closely +watched. The doctor said he would take my children, unless she became +responsible for them; which of course she willingly did. The next day +was spent in searching. Before night, the following advertisement was +posted at every corner, and in every public place for miles round:— + + “$300 Reward! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, + mulatto girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches + high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be + made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read + and write, and in all probability will try to get to the Free + States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of the law, to + harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes + her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered + to me, or lodged in jail. + + Dr. Flint.” + + + + + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + + +The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had +anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great +anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the +consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even +that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness +to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into +such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my +hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of +bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a +reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which +loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so +dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and +slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was +compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into +the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my +look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and +vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The +application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread +of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend +asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the +bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in +vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed +part.[1] + + [Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is + counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. + The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb + into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky + places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.] + +I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. +They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to +escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, +and let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence +with me. When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved +that, come what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me +liberty, or give me death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to +make known to my relatives the painful situation I had been in for +twenty-four hours, they said no more about my going back to my master. +Something must be done, and that speedily; but where to turn for help, +they knew not. God in his mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + +Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who +had known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. +She had also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for +them. At this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as +she not unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression +of her face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was +safe. My grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt +Martha,” said the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do +something to help you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and +bought and sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she +treated them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She +was unlike the majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked +earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said “Trust +me!” and she did trust her. She listened attentively to the details of +my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha, +I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda’s getting +to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you must +solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a +thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in +my house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I +would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a +great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to +be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send +the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” The place +where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother +was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by her +emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + +I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go +to a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter +of prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing +who I was to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus +blindfolded, but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain +where I was. I disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, +and went to the appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the +last person I expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in +my leg was so intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave +me strength. We reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first +words were: “Honey, now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search +_dis_ house. When I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some +nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s +vocation led her to think eating the most important thing in life. She +did not realize that my heart was too full for me to care much about +supper. + +The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room +over her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said +she; “I keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The +girls are not accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect +any thing unless they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and +Betty shall take care of the key. But you must be very careful, for my +sake as well as your own; and you must never tell my secret; for it +would ruin me and my family. I will keep the girls busy in the morning, +that Betty may have a chance to bring your breakfast; but it will not +do for her to come to you again till night. I will come to see you +sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state of things will not +last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot supper,” and the mistress +hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she returned. How my +heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my throat; but I could +have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed of Christian +womanhood, may God forever bless her! + +I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present +the most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little +cell with light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. +Opposite my window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I +could lie perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through +which Dr. Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam +of satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I +triumphed over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are +constantly compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak +and oppressed against the strength of their tyrants. + +I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I +knew who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more +for revenge than he did for money. My brother William, and the good +aunt who had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, +and Ellen, who was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, +as a means of compelling my relatives to give some information about +me. He swore my grandmother should never see one of them again till +I was brought back. They kept these facts from me for several days. +When I heard that my little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first +impulse was to go to them. I was encountering dangers for the sake of +freeing them, and must I be the cause of their death? The thought was +agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by telling me that my +aunt would take good care of the children while they remained in jail. +But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, who had always +been so kind to her sister’s orphan children, should be shut up in +prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends feared +a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life was +bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It +was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you are, dear sister, I +beg of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. +If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where +you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; +if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of +those you would ruin.” + +Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his +advice and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of +a month, because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was +tired of being her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to +order her dinner and eat it too. My children remained in jail, where +brother William did all he could for their comfort. Betty went to see +them sometimes, and brought me tidings. She was not permitted to enter +the jail; but William would hold them up to the grated window while +she chatted with them. When she repeated their prattle, and told me +how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would flow. Old Betty would +exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill +you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If you does, you vil nebber git +thro’ dis world.” + +Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never +had little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen +their soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called +her mother; she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with +the feeling that even in fetters there was something to live for. How +could she realize my feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, +and wondered why God had denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow +when he came to Betty with the tidings that Ellen had been taken out +of jail and carried to Dr. Flint’s. She had the measles a short time +before they carried her to jail, and the disease had left her eyes +affected. The doctor had taken her home to attend to them. My children +had always been afraid of the doctor and his wife. They had never been +inside of their house. Poor little Ellen cried all day to be carried +back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true. She knew she was +loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs. Flint. Before +night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, Bill, carry +this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she would be +quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handy +waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her +white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the +doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for +their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running +away. She hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its +calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out +of jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing +hussy! When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one +six months, and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her +broke in yet. What do you stand there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off +with the brat? Mind, now, that you don’t let any of the niggers speak +to her in the street!” + +When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying +that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself +there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it +as one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was +carried back to jail. + +That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return +till near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the +house, and thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with +Linda.” He knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so +early?” said he. “I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop +and tell you that I have found out where Linda is. I know where to put +my hands on her, and I shall have her before twelve o’clock.” When +he had turned away, my grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at +each other. They did not know whether or not it was merely one of the +doctor’s tricks to frighten them. In their uncertainty, they thought it +was best to have a message conveyed to my friend Betty. Unwilling to +alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of me herself. She came +to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. We hurried down stairs, +and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked the door, and lifted +up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of carpet were spread +for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. “Stay dar,” said she, +“till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey vil put thar hans on +you afore twelve o’clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, dey won’t +know _now_. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s all I got to say. If +dey comes rummagin ’mong _my_ tings, dey’ll get one bressed sarssin +from dis ’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to +bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty +walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the +fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas +over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a +chuckling laugh, “Dis nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the +housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I +might hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard +about my being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they +would answer, that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; +that I was in Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were +abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said, “Come out, chile; +come out. Dey don’t know nottin ’bout you. ’Twas only white folks’ +lies, to skeer de niggers.” + +Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very +still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my +mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be +willing to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them +the means of my discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly +I heard a voice that chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to +me, it had been too dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old +master. He was in the house, and I at once concluded he had come to +seize me. I looked round in terror. There was no way of escape. The +voice receded. I supposed the constable was with him, and they were +searching the house. In my alarm I did not forget the trouble I was +bringing on my generous benefactress. It seemed as if I were born to +bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and that was the bitterest +drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heard approaching +footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself against the +wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there stood my +kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, and sunk +down upon the floor. + +“I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing +you would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. +You may even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He +is so sure you are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred +dollars to go in pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan +on interest. He has obtained it, and proposes to start for New York +to-night. So, for the present, you see you are safe. The doctor will +merely lighten his pocket hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + + + + + XIX. The Children Sold. + + +The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing +his purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather +disheartened. My brother and the children had now been in jail two +months, and that also was some expense. My friends thought it was a +favorable time to work on his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a +speculator to offer him nine hundred dollars for my brother William, +and eight hundred for the two children. These were high prices, as +slaves were then selling; but the offer was rejected. If it had been +merely a question of money, the doctor would have sold any boy of +Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he could not bear to give +up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed for money, and he +revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen +till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but I +presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At +all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the +slave-trader’s offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when +he would leave town. “To-day, at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do +you go so soon?” said the doctor; “I have been reflecting upon your +proposition, and I have concluded to let you have the three negroes if +you will say nineteen hundred dollars.” After some parley, the trader +agreed to his terms. He wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed +immediately, as he had a great deal to attend to during the short time +he remained in town. The doctor went to the jail and told William he +would take him back into his service if he would promise to behave +himself; but he replied that he would rather be sold. “And you _shall_ +be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed the doctor. In less than an +hour the money was paid, the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered, +and my brother and children were in the hands of the trader. + +It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s +characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and +said, “Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand +dollars not to sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come +too late,” replied the trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in +fact, already sold them to Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The +doctor required him to put irons on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass +through the back streets when he took his gang out of town. The trader +was privately instructed to concede to his wishes. My good old aunt +went to the jail to bid the children good by, supposing them to be +the speculator’s property, and that she should never see them again. +As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want to show +you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row of +marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for +every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; +and the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. +It’s wrong for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my +mother.” + +My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, +but she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. +Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. +When she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the +children in the trader’s cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. +She was afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She +fainted, and was carried home. + +When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and +proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, +without stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying +hour for that drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be +sold they knew not where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from +children, never to look upon each other again this side the grave. +There was wringing of hands and cries of despair. + +Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, +and Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children +were going “as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to +agreement, my uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to +an old farm house. There the trader took the irons from William, and as +he did so, he said, “You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to +own you myself. Them gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a +bright, honest chap, and I must git you a good home. I guess your old +master will swear to-morrow, and call himself an old fool for selling +the children. I reckon he’ll never git their mammy back agin. I expect +she’s made tracks for the north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have +done you a good turn. You must thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals +to go with me next fall. That’s going to be my last trip. This trading +in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that’s got any heart. Move +on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, God alone knows where. + +Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard +as the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say +that he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the +jail, and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, +he was willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even +without charging the customary fee. + +My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to +town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were +closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the +little ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped +their hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her +heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for +a while; and though such a “parental relation” as existed between him +and my children takes slight hold of the hearts or consciences of +slaveholders, it must be that he experienced some moments of pure joy +in witnessing the happiness he had imparted. + +I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the +day had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something +that happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the +superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the +window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without +being seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. +I sat there thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of +music. A band of serenaders were under the window, playing “Home, sweet +home.” I listened till the sounds did not seem like music, but like +the moaning of children. It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose +from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the +floor before me, and in the midst of it appeared the forms of my two +children. They vanished; but I had seen them distinctly. Some will call +it a dream, others a vision. I know not how to account for it, but it +made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt certain something had +happened to my little ones. + +I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning +the key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to +let me know whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; +for I had seen their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had +happened to them. “Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, +“you’s got de high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll +make a noise, and ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. +When you is done cryin, I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and +mighty happy. I seed ’em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be +still! Somebody vill hear you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and +was soon sound asleep; but no sleep would come to my eyelids. + +At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and +the vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After +a while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I +recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda +Brent’s children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole +massa Flint was mighty glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say +they’ve come back agin. I ’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They +say he’s bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa +Flint! I’m going roun’ to aunt Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + +I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my +children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them +off? The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me +the truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I +had overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish +ting!” said she. “I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is +eating thar breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, +poor creeter! t’aint right to keep you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell +you. Brudder, chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan +nuff, tinking ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he _vill_ swar! He’s got +ketched dis time, any how; but I must be getting out o’ dis, or dem +gals vill come and ketch _me_.” + +Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my +children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + +Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had +returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and +many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + +Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of +my children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I +am glad to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall +soon have her. You need never expect to see _her_ free. She shall be +my slave as long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave +of my children. If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to +do with her running off I’ll kill him. And if I meet William in the +street, and he presumes to look at me, I’ll flog him within an inch of +his life. Keep those brats out of my sight!” + +As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of +his own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad +to strike her to the ground. + +I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since +my childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the +old doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble +me. The darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever +slavery might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a +sacrifice, my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple +heart believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is +always better to trust than to doubt. + + + + + XX. New Perils. + + +The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself +on my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having +aided my flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that +he knew nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me +since I left my master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he +should give bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to +do with me. Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. +Sands told him he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he +came out without giving bail. + +The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it +to Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under +the floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of +her culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the +intention that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s +imprisonment would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it +likely Dr. Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was +afraid my uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way +that would be construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware +that in court his word would not be taken against any white man’s. The +search for me was renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I +was in the vicinity. They searched the house I was in. I heard their +steps and their voices. At night, when all were asleep, Betty came to +release me from my place of confinement. The fright I had undergone, +the constrained posture, and the dampness of the ground, made me ill +for several days. My uncle was soon after taken out of prison; but +the movements of all my relatives, and of all our friends, were very +closely watched. + +We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had +already staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must +be a source of perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this +time, my friends had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme +vigilance of my persecutors made it impossible to carry them into +effect. + +One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get +into my room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly +conjectured it was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must +either have heard some noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance +of Betty. When my friend came, at her usual time, I told her what had +happened. “I knows who it was,” said she. “’Pend upon it, ’twas dat +Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de debble in her.” I suggested that she +might have seen or heard something that excited her curiosity. + +“Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn +notin’. She only ’spects someting. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who +hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. +I’ll git missis to fix her.” + +I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + +“Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat +’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + +She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep +Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told +her he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she +hoped I was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to +remain any where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for +one in my situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast +quite clear for me, she went into the country to spend the day with her +brother, and took Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me +good by, but she left a kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage +roll from the door, and I never again saw her who had so generously +befriended the poor, trembling fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, +to this day my heart blesses her! + +I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit +of sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me +a small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery +tones, she exclaimed, “I’se _so_ glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t +forget ole Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + +I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness, but she +interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help +you, and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine +wid you to de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk +ricketty, like de sailors.” + +I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young +colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been +an apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I +was not afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and +we walked off. “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got +a dagger, and no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my +dead body.” + +It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh +air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking +to me above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they +did not recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for +Peter’s sake, as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his +dagger. We walked on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband +was a seafaring man, and it had been deemed necessary to let him into +our secret. He took me into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far +distant, and hoisted me on board. We three were the only occupants of +the vessel. I now ventured to ask what they proposed to do with me. +They said I was to remain on board till near dawn, and then they would +hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle Phillip had prepared a place of +concealment for me. If the vessel had been bound north, it would have +been of no avail to me, for it would certainly have been searched. +About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, and rowed three +miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased by the +venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. +But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the best +that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + +Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos +and briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, +and carried me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached +it, we were covered with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time +they had so poisoned my flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. +As the light increased, I saw snake after snake crawling round us. I +had been accustomed to the sight of snakes all my life, but these were +larger than any I had ever seen. To this day I shudder when I remember +that morning. As evening approached, the number of snakes increased +so much that we were continually obliged to thrash them with sticks +to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos were so high and so +thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very short distance. +Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to the entrance +of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the boat. It +was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low whistle, +which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter the +boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; +for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of +snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when +they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I +could scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous +snakes were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in +that community called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of +tobacco to burn, to keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired +effect on them, but gave me nausea and severe headache. At dark we +returned to the vessel. I had been so sick during the day, that Peter +declared I should go home that night, if the devil himself was on +patrol. They told me a place of concealment had been provided for me +at my grandmother’s. I could not imagine how it was possible to hide +me in her house, every nook and corner of which was known to the Flint +family. They told me to wait and see. We were rowed ashore, and went +boldly through the streets, to my grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s +clothes, and had blackened my face with charcoal. I passed several +people whom I knew. The father of my children came so near that I +brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it was. + +“You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you +may not have another very soon.” + +I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me +what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + + + + + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + + +A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some +boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these +boards and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any +thing but rats and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but +shingles, according to the southern custom for such buildings. The +garret was only nine feet long and seven wide. The highest part was +three feet high, and sloped down abruptly to the loose board floor. +There was no admission for either light or air. My uncle Phillip, who +was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a concealed trap-door, which +communicated with the storeroom. He had been doing this while I was +waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a piazza. To this hole +I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The air was stifling; +the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. I could sleep +quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden that I could +not turn on the other without hitting the roof. The rats and mice ran +over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretched +may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it +only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were +all the same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was +not comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and +there was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to +speak to them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no +hole, no crack, through which I could peep. This continued darkness was +oppressive. It seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day +after day, without one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, +rather than my lot as a slave, though white people considered it an +easy one; and it was so compared with the fate of others. I was never +cruelly over-worked; I was never lacerated with the whip from head to +foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn from +one side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent my +running away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, +while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never +branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had +always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into +the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But +though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God +pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + +My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had +contrived; and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy +would seize such opportunities as they could, to mount up there and +chat with me at the opening. But of course this was not safe in the +daytime. It must all be done in darkness. It was impossible for me to +move in an erect position, but I crawled about my den for exercise. +One day I hit my head against something, and found it was a gimlet. +My uncle had left it sticking there when he made the trap-door. I +was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could have been at finding such a +treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. I said to myself, “Now +I will have some light. Now I will see my children.” I did not dare to +begin my work during the daytime, for fear of attracting attention. +But I groped round; and having found the side next the street, where +I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet in and waited +for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; then I +bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one hole +about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the +night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning +I watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was +Dr. Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad +omen. Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh +of children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at +me, as though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they +imparted. How I longed to _tell_ them I was there! + +My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented +by hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that +pierced through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good +grandmother gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I +got rid of them. The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin +shingles protected me from the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my +consolations. Through my peeping-hole I could watch the children, and +when they were near enough, I could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought +me all the news she could hear at Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that +the doctor had written to New York to a colored woman, who had been +born and raised in our neighborhood, and had breathed his contaminating +atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she could find out any thing +about me. I know not what was the nature of her reply; but he soon +after started for New York in haste, saying to his family that he had +business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as he passed on his +way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles of land and +water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still greater +satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. My +little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did +from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory +information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing +at the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he +called out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see +her.” The doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get +out of the way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off +your head.” + +Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail +again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried +the words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when +we had our next conference at the trap-door; and begged of her not to +allow the children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + +Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become +accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a +certain position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That +was a great relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter +came, the cold penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was +dreadfully chilled. The winters there are not so long, or so severe, +as in northern latitudes; but the houses are not built to shelter +from cold, and my little den was peculiarly comfortless. The kind +grandmother brought me bed-clothes and warm drinks. Often I was obliged +to lie in bed all day to keep comfortable; but with all my precautions, +my shoulders and feet were frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, +with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughts to occupy my +mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future! I was thankful +when there came a day sufficiently mild for me to wrap myself up and +sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. Southerners have the habit +of stopping and talking in the streets, and I heard many conversations +not intended to meet my ears. I heard slave-hunters planning how to +catch some poor fugitive. Several times I heard allusions to Dr. Flint, +myself, and the history of my children, who, perhaps, were playing near +the gate. One would say, “I wouldn’t move my little finger to catch +her, as old Flint’s property.” Another would say, “I’ll catch _any_ +nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what belongs to him, if he +_is_ a damned brute.” The opinion was often expressed that I was in the +Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest that I might be in the +vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my grandmother’s house, it +would have been burned to the ground. But it was the last place they +thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery existed, that could +have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + +Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children +to tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took +them into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces +and gay handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen +shrank away from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and +said, “Dr. Flint, I don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New +York; and when you go there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, +for I want to see her; but if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll +cut her head off, I’ll tell her to go right back.” + + + + + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + + +Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I +busied myself making some new garments and little playthings for +my children. Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many +families are fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation +in a few days, Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. +Even slave mothers try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on +that occasion. Benny and Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. +Their imprisoned mother could not have the privilege of witnessing +their surprise and joy. But I had the pleasure of peeping at them as +they went into the street with their new suits on. I heard Benny ask +a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought him any thing. “Yes,” +replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. It’s the children’s +mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that can’t be,” +replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new clothes, +and my mother has been gone this long time.” + +How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that +many a tear fell on them while she worked! + +Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. +Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They +consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the +lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown +over them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ +tails are fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with +horns. A box, covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen +beat on this, while others strike triangles and jawbones, to which +bands of dancers keep time. For a month previous they are composing +songs, which are sung on this occasion. These companies, of a hundred +each, turn out early in the morning, and are allowed to go round till +twelve o’clock, begging for contributions. Not a door is left unvisited +where there is the least chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of +rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rum home in +jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequently amount +to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man or child +refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears with +the following song:— + + “Poor massa, so dey say; + Down in de heel, so dey say; + Got no money, so dey say; + Not one shillin, so dey say; + God A’mighty bress you, so dey say.” + +Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. +Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to +spend them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, +without saying, “By your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, +cook a ’possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. +My grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale; and it was her +established custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for +Christmas dinner. + +On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two +guests had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was +a free colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who +was always ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor +with white people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She +managed to take them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower +floor were thrown open for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, +they were invited up stairs to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle +had just brought home. There, too, the rooms were all thrown open, +that they might look in. When I heard them talking on the piazza, my +heart almost stood still. I knew this colored man had spent many nights +hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of a slave father +in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off for white, he +was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised him! As for +the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office were +despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did +not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise +money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by +being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise +authority. If he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip +him as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When +the guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some +of her nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole +I saw them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after +them. So passed the first Christmas in my den. + + + + + XXIII. Still In Prison. + + +When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the +aperture commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters +I must be condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful +draught of fresh air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to +stand erect, to feel the earth under my feet again. My relatives were +constantly on the lookout for a chance of escape; but none offered that +seemed practicable, and even tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, +and made the turpentine drop from the thin roof over my head. + +During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no +room to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere +was so stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in +it. With all my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a +worse punishment, either in this world or that which is to come, than +to suffer what I suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed +_him_ to be out in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent +up here, as the only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed +him to inflict upon me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again +and again, I thought I should die before long; but I saw the leaves of +another autumn whirl through the air, and felt the touch of another +winter. In summer the most terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for +the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might +cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, storms sometimes wet +my clothes through and through, and that was not comfortable when the +air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by filling the chinks +with oakum. + +But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of +doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I +saw a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it +if he will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress +had that day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments +of its fair face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the +bondwoman and her child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. +The slave went to her master, and told him what had happened. He +promised to talk with her mistress, and make it all right. The next day +she and her baby were sold to a Georgia trader. + +Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was +a slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling +offence her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape +the degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, +and ended her wrongs in death. + +Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts +as these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. +Yet he stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that +slavery was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing +to the master, and a blessing to the slave!” + +I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the +first. My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them +with cramp. I had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even +my face and tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course +it was impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My +brother William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also +watched tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to +inquire whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored +to consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found +myself leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with +streaming eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had +been in an unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, +and was in great danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent +this, they stupefied me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary +in body and sick at heart. How to get medical advice was the question. +William finally went to a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself +as having all my pains and aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and +ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; +but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal in a furnace +was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly cost me +my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in an iron +pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since I +had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made me +weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very +slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after +day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and +even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of +my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who +would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it +seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I +asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had +been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things took the +shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as I +trust it will be hereafter. + +In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight of +anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best +friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. +O, how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, +that I could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched +over me! + +One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to +my peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, +usually kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, +and I heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were +being sewed up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this +and be unable to go to him! + +But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. +Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction +of the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next +day that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered +from his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + +When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her +customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire +whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked +permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, +“I don’t see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when +she found other ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not +wishing to be outdone in Christian charity, she also sallied forth, +in magnificent condescension, and stood by the bedside of her who had +loved her in her infancy, and who had been repaid by such grievous +wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, and scolded uncle +Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent for him +immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should have +been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my +grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attending +physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him +coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him +a chance to make out a long bill. + +As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, +that a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he +had killed him. It would be good news to send to his mother. _Her_ day +will come. The dogs will grab _her_ yet.” With these Christian words +she and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned +no more. + +I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and +gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I +could now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the +anguish of feeling that I caused her death.” + + + + + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + + +The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New +York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and +he returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig +candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he +exerted all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large +parties of men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them +with plenty of rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in +the bowl, and, in the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that +he did not mean to vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the +street without ceremony. + +The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event +which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my +children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. +Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me +not to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom +secure. Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen +him since the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a +sailor. I supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my +grandmother concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + +The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, +towards evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. +I found myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty +I could hitch from one resting place to another. When I reached the +storeroom my ankles gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the +floor. It seemed as if I could never use my limbs again. But the +purpose I had in view roused all the strength I had. I crawled on my +hands and knees to the window, and, screened behind a barrel, I waited +for his coming. The clock struck nine, and I knew the steamboat would +leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were failing. But presently I +heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me a moment. I wish to +see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the window, I said, +“Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He started, +hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed the +shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had +suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then +felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? +And had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would +not listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were +so busy within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I +heard some one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called +me?” said he, in a low tone. “I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, +“I knew your voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should +hear me. Why do you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this +house? They are mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are +all ruined.” I did not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my +place of concealment; so I merely said, “I thought you would come to +bid grandmother good by, and so I came here to speak a few words to +you about emancipating my children. Many changes may take place during +the six months you are gone to Washington, and it does not seem right +for you to expose them to the risk of such changes. I want nothing for +myself; all I ask is, that you will free my children, or authorize some +friend to do it, before you go.” + +He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness to make any +arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + +I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted +to crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had +done; for I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back +into the house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at +the storeroom window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in +the house over night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be +there; that we should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too +much of a hurry to wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely +have told him all. + +I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up +than I had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little +strength that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless +on the floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into +the storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she +whispered, “where are you?” + +“I am here by the window,” I replied. “I _couldn’t_ have him go away +without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + +“Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here +another minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” +I told her I could not return without assistance, and she must call my +uncle. Uncle Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He +carried me back to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me +some medicine, and asked me if there was any thing more he could do. +Then he went away, and I was left with my own thoughts—starless as the +midnight darkness around me. + +My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so +weary of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of +serving my children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their +sakes, I was willing to bear on. + + + + + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + + +Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my +grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender +myself; and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or +any one who wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not +to perceive that this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends +understood it. I resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. +In order to make him believe that I was in New York, I resolved to +write him a letter dated from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, +and asked him if he knew any trustworthy seafaring person, who would +carry such a letter to New York, and put it in the post office there. +He said he knew one that he would trust with his own life to the ends +of the world. I reminded him that it was a hazardous thing for him to +undertake. He said he knew it, but he was willing to do any thing to +help me. I expressed a wish for a New York paper, to ascertain the +names of some of the streets. He run his hand into his pocket, and +said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought of a pedler +yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next evening. He +bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; brighter days +will come by and by.” + +My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was +over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture +to examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, +for once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, +was made to render them a service. Having obtained what information +I wanted concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one +to my grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a +gray-headed man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in +his power, and what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my +grandmother, I expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the +north, where I could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a +virtuous example; which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the +south. I asked her to direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, +as I did not live in New York, though I went there sometimes. I dated +these letters ahead, to allow for the time it would take to carry them, +and sent a memorandum of the date to the messenger. When my friend came +for the letters, I said, “God bless and reward you, Peter, for this +disinterested kindness. Pray be careful. If you are detected, both you +and I will have to suffer dreadfully. I have not a relative who would +dare to do it for me.” He replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t +forget that your father was my best friend, and I will be a friend to +his children so long as God lets me live.” + +It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that +she might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint +might say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt +sure mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in +order that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I +whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it +will succeed. I shan’t mind being a slave all _my_ life, if I can only +see you and the children free.” + +I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post +office on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt +came to say that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice +about a letter he had received, and that when he went to his office he +promised to bring it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear +my letter read the next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would +be sure to come, and asked her to have him sit near a certain door, +and leave it open, that I might hear what he said. The next morning +I took my station within sound of that door, and remained motionless +as a statue. It was not long before I heard the gate slam, and the +well-known footsteps enter the house. He seated himself in the chair +that was placed for him, and said, “Well, Martha, I’ve brought you a +letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, also. I know exactly where +to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston for her. I had rather +she would come back of her own accord, in a respectable manner. Her +uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. With _him_, she would +feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay his expenses going and +returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her children are free; at +least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her freedom, you’ll make +a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no objection to my reading +to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + +He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had +suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute +of his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + + “Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I ran + away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom at + a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return to + the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, I beg + of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any longer + without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in New York + or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s convenience. + Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda.” + +“It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, +rising to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, +and wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with +Phillip about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and +come back. I should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + +As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, +Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t +see you. How do you do?” + +“Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my +mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + +“Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and +you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + +This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but +grandmother was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my +uncle to go for me. + +The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle +told him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he +should be mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and +nonsense, Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to +kick up a row in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda +writes that she wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would +trust _you_. The case would be different if I went. She might object to +coming with _me_; and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her +master, would not believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. +They would get up a row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged +through the streets like a common negro. She has been very ungrateful +to me for all my kindness; but I forgive her, and want to act the part +of a friend towards her. I have no wish to hold her as my slave. Her +friends can buy her as soon as she arrives here.” + +Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let +the cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of +Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at +the street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted +this date in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I +had dated from New York, the old man would probably have made another +journey to that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge +is so carefully excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about +Massachusetts to come to the conclusion that slaveholders did not +consider it a comfortable place to go to in search of a runaway. That +was before the Fugitive Slave Law was passed; before Massachusetts had +consented to become a “nigger hunter” for the south. + +My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in +danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What +will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t +been there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe +he’ll find out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O +Linda, I wish you had never sent the letters.” + +“Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t +trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good +in the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + +“I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You +have been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, +it will break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every +day to hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God +help you, poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we +shall go ‘where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at +rest.’” My heart responded, Amen. + +The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me +that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no +suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object +to keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less +anxious, and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to +escape. I resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the +north from time to time. + +Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of +Boston, grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to +leave my cell, sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming +a cripple. I was allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early +in the morning, and remain there a little while. The room was all +filled up with barrels, except a small open space under my trap-door. +This faced the door, the upper part of which was of glass, and +purposely left uncurtained, that the curious might look in. The air of +this place was close; but it was so much better than the atmosphere of +my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came down as soon as it was light, +and remained till eight o’clock, when people began to be about, and +there was danger that some one might come on the piazza. I had tried +various applications to bring warmth and feeling into my limbs, but +without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a painful effort +to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first mornings I +tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space of the +storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + + + + + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + +I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who +had gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several +letters from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in +such a manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, +and wrote to him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when +it closed, William wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the +north, to be gone some time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew +that his master had promised to give him his freedom, but no time had +been specified. Would William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered +how we used to talk together, in our young days, about obtaining our +freedom, and I thought it very doubtful whether he would come back to +us. + +Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had +proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; +that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled +through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists +had tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by +saying they should be at home shortly. + +We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his +journey, but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would +return late in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters +from William. I felt almost sure I should never see him again on +southern soil; but had he no word of comfort to send to his friends at +home? to the poor captive in her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through +the dark past, and over the uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where +no eye but God’s could see me, I wept bitter tears. How earnestly I +prayed to him to restore me to my children, and enable me to be a +useful woman and a good mother! + +At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother +had made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old +hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s plate occupied +its old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited +dinner. She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. +In my prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my +dear brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was +sent by Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with +him; that the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not +to feel troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William +in a few days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, +for he could never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been +with him. + +If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought +the messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old +grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I +was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother +had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended +a good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss +he had incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of +my children, who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have +their emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and +father was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know +that promises made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere +at the time, depend upon many contingencies for their fulfilment. + +Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad +and anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful +that it seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother +brought the children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. +She thought it would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They +chatted merrily, as only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you +think uncle Will has gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May +be he’ll find mother. If he does, _won’t_ she be glad to see him! Why +don’t you and uncle Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother +is? I should like it; wouldn’t you, Ellen?” + +“Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do +you know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do +you, Benny?” + +Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by +an old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature +had witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to +parts unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. +She saw that my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a +sympathizing tone, “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?” + +“O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my +children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and +lay my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. +He staid at the north.” + +Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is _dat_ what you’s crying +fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t +know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t +know whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you _do_ know whar her brudder is. +He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s +doings, but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + +My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over +the escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own +sister was only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. +I knelt and prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, +that one of my family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + +It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that +Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do +his duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed +to be free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he +had better not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, +“Don’t worry about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; +and it will spur me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have +earned money enough to give you a home, perhaps you will come to the +north, and we can all live happy together.” + +Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving +him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated +him as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but +I had no idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. +He’s young and inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. +I must confess the scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down +the steps of the Astor House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I +asked him where he was going. He said he was going to change his old +trunk. I told him it was rather shabby, and asked if he didn’t need +some money. He said, No, thanked me, and went off. He did not return +so soon as I expected; but I waited patiently. At last I went to see +if our trunks were packed, ready for our journey. I found them locked, +and a sealed note on the table informed me where I could find the keys. +The fellow even tried to be religious. He wrote that he hoped God +would always bless me, and reward me for my kindness; that he was not +unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a free man; and that if I +thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. I intended to give +him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. He has shown +himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send for him. I feel +confident that he will soon return to me.” + +I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He +had not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they +could give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He +looked at his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What +security had he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind +to him; but he might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to +give him his freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and +his property be seized by creditors; or he might die, without making +any arrangements in his favor. He had too often known such accidents +to happen to slaves who had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to +make sure of the present opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous +about taking any money from his master on false pretences; so he sold +his best clothes to pay for his passage to Boston. The slaveholders +pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thus requiting his +master’s indulgence. What would _they_ have done under similar +circumstances? + +When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, +they chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual +manifestations of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope +he’ll never get him again. I like to see people paid back in their +own coin. I reckon Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should +be glad to see them in the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of +seeing those little niggers march about the streets.” + + + + + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + + +Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the +father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful +devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; +that when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed +him in disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason +to entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time +to time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell +into Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have +come to the conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a +close watch over my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my +detection. + +A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands +and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took +a fancy to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does +he belong to?” + +Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with +the stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days +afterwards, Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted +her to take the children to his house. He said he had informed his wife +of his relation to them, and told her they were motherless; and she +wanted to see them. + +When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The +question seemed a mockery. What _could_ I do? They were Mr. Sands’s +slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be +dead. Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled +to come to any decision; and the children were carried without my +knowledge. Mrs. Sands had a sister from Illinois staying with her. +This lady, who had no children of her own, was so much pleased with +Ellen, that she offered to adopt her, and bring her up as she would +a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to take Benjamin. When grandmother +reported this to me, I was tried almost beyond endurance. Was this +all I was to gain by what I had suffered for the sake of having my +children free? True, the prospect _seemed_ fair; but I knew too well +how lightly slaveholders held such “parental relations.” If pecuniary +troubles should come, or if the new wife required more money than could +conveniently be spared, my children might be thought of as a convenient +means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O Slavery! Never should +I know peace till my children were emancipated with all due formalities +of law. + +I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; +but I could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I +resolved to remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw +myself upon his honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my +grandmother to go to him, and tell him I was not dead, and that I +earnestly entreated him to keep the promise he had made me; that I had +heard of the recent proposals concerning my children, and did not feel +easy to accept them; that he had promised to emancipate them, and it +was time for him to redeem his pledge. I knew there was some risk in +thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; but what will not a mother +do for her children? He received the message with surprise, and said, +“The children are free. I have never intended to claim them as slaves. +Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had better be sent to +the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. Flint boasts +that they are still in his power. He says they were his daughter’s +property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the contract +is not legally binding.” + +So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children +were between two fires; between my old master and their new master! +And I was powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to +invoke. Mr. Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to +some of his relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was +promised that she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. +I consented to it, as the best arrangement I could make for her. My +grandmother, of course, negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no +other person in the transaction. She proposed that they should take +Ellen with them to Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance +of sending her, with friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. +I had had a glimpse of it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It +was not a pleasant thought to me, that the bondwoman’s child should +tend her free-born sister; but there was no alternative. Ellen was made +ready for the journey. O, how it tried my heart to send her away, so +young, alone, among strangers! Without a mother’s love to shelter her +from the storms of life; almost without memory of a mother! I doubted +whether she and Benny would have for me the natural affection that +children feel for a parent. I thought to myself that I might perhaps +never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire that she should +look upon me, before she went, that she might take my image with her in +her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to my dungeon. +It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her mother was a +victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place to which +it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in one +of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to +think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told +them I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray +me; that I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not +facilitate it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated +against the rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not +change my purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into +the storeroom, and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into +the piazza and went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was +more than five years since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded +on me! There I had taken shelter when my mistress drove me from her +house; there came my old tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there +my children were first laid in my arms; there I had watched over them, +each day with a deeper and sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in +anguish of heart, to forgive the wrong I had done. How vividly it all +came back! And after this long, gloomy interval, I stood there such a +wreck! + +In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. +The door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the +hand. I put my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am +your mother.” She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with +sweet confidence, she laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to +the heart that had been so long desolated. She was the first to speak. +Raising her head, she said, inquiringly, “You really _are_ my mother?” +I told her I really was; that during all the long time she had not seen +me, I had loved her most tenderly; and that now she was going away, I +wanted to see her and talk with her, that she might remember me. With +a sob in her voice, she said, “I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why +didn’t you ever come before? Benny and I have wanted so much to see +you! He remembers you, and sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn’t +you come home when Dr. Flint went to bring you?” + +I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, +tell me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. +“Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, +where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her +a letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or +any body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, _do_ go, dear mother!” + +I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and +then she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She +wanted to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going +to the north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come +to see him before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me +stay all night and sleep with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning +to her uncle, she said, pleadingly, “_May_ I stay? Please, uncle! She +is my own mother.” He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, +“Ellen, this is the secret you have promised grandmother never to +tell. If you ever speak of it to any body, they will never let you see +your grandmother again, and your mother can never come to Brooklyn.” +“Uncle,” she replied, “I will never tell.” He told her she might stay +with me; and when he had gone, I took her in my arms and told her I was +a slave, and that was the reason she must never say she had seen me. +I exhorted her to be a good child, to try to please the people where +she was going, and that God would raise her up friends. I told her to +say her prayers, and remember always to pray for her poor mother, and +that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and I did not check +her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to pour her +tears into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, and I +had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose +any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead +softly, and she said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + +Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the +window curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone +on her face, and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that +wretched night when I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing +heart; and tears, too sad for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her +cheeks, as she gave her last kiss, and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I +will never tell.” And she never did. + +When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there +alone in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When +the time for Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and +friends saying to her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will +find you out. _Won’t_ you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, +ma’am;” and they little dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed +down her young heart. She was an affectionate child, but naturally +very reserved, except with those she loved, and I felt secure that my +secret would be safe with her. I heard the gate close after her, with +such feelings as only a slave mother can experience. During the day my +meditations were very sad. Sometimes I feared I had been very selfish +not to give up all claim to her, and let her go to Illinois, to be +adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my experience of slavery that +decided me against it. I feared that circumstances might arise that +would cause her to be sent back. I felt confident that I should go to +New York myself; and then I should be able to watch over her, and in +some degree protect her. + +Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after +Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called +on Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her +opinion very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, +and for his own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” +And as for sending Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much +stealing as it would be for him to come and take a piece of furniture +out of her parlor. She said her daughter was not of age to sign the +bill of sale, and the children were her property; and when she became +of age, or was married, she could take them, wherever she could lay +hands on them. + +Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was +now in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and +honorable for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but +she did not understand how any body could hold up their heads in +respectable society, after they had purchased their own children, as +Mr. Sands had done. Dr. Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that +Benny would be less likely to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my +letters, that fell into his hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom +spoke of me now. This state of things enabled me to slip down into the +storeroom more frequently, where I could stand upright, and move my +limbs more freely. + +Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent +a letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire +whether she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I +wrote to her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was +one person there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety +of the child’s friends at home; but the links of such relations as he +had formed with me, are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet +how protectingly and persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless +slave girl! And how entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened +my mind. Was my child dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + +If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, +curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member +of Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He +wrote to request that she would send her children away from the great +house before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. +The woman could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read +the letter. The existence of the colored children did not trouble this +gentleman, it was only the fear that friends might recognize in their +features a resemblance to him. + +At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from +Brooklyn. It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced +that Ellen had just arrived. It contained the following message from +her: “I do try to do just as you told me to, and I pray for you every +night and morning.” I understood that these words were meant for me; +and they were a balsam to my heart. The writer closed her letter by +saying, “Ellen is a nice little girl, and we shall like to have her +with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has given her to me, to be my little +waiting maid. I shall send her to school, and I hope some day she +will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed and troubled me. +Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she was old enough +to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a piece of +property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return to +the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away +from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been +done to us. I said to myself, “Surely there must be _some_ justice in +man;” then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the +natural feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my +light-hearted boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought +under the yoke of slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I +longed to have him safely out of the reach of its power! + + + + + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + + +I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, +and who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered +from him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, +as far as slaves _can_ marry. She had the consent of her master and +mistress, and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere +form, without any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it +any day they pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, +near Mrs. Flint’s chamber door, that she might be within call. When she +was married, she was told she might have the use of a small room in an +out-house. Her mother and her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring +man, and was allowed to sleep there when he was at home. But on the +wedding evening, the bride was ordered to her old post on the entry +floor. + +Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be +a mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what +could she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to +lie at her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give +premature birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume +her place on the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her +attentions. She kept her station there through summer and winter, until +she had given premature birth to six children; and all the while she +was employed as night-nurse to Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling +all day, and being deprived of rest at night, completely broke down her +constitution, and Dr. Flint declared it was impossible she could ever +become the mother of a living child. The fear of losing so valuable a +servant by death, now induced them to allow her to sleep in her little +room in the out-house, except when there was sickness in the family. +She afterwards had two feeble babes, one of whom died in a few days, +and the other in four weeks. I well remember her patient sorrow as she +held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it could have lived,” she +said; “it is not the will of God that any of my children should live. +But I will try to be fit to meet their little spirits in heaven.” + +Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. +Indeed, she was the _factotum_ of the household. Nothing went on well +without her. She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her +power, she supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her +all the time I lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us +was very strong. When my friends tried to discourage me from running +away, she always encouraged me. When they thought I had better return +and ask my master’s pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, +she sent me word never to yield. She said if I persevered I might, +perhaps, gain the freedom of my children; and even if I perished in +doing it, that was better than to leave them to groan under the same +persecutions that had blighted my own life. After I was shut up in my +dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, to bring me the news and +say something cheering. How often did I kneel down to listen to her +words of consolation, whispered through a crack! “I am old, and have +not long to live,” she used to say; “and I could die happy if I could +only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as I +do for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness.” I would beg +her not to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all +suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in +freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who had been +the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; and not +me only. The whole family relied upon her judgment, and were guided by +her advice. I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother was +summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was +very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. +Flint’s house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she +thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch +by the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each +other; and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, longing to +speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My +aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the +last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, +she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that +she would try to hold up her hand, to let her know that all was well +with her. Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he +saw the dying woman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling +by her side. His eyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always +been a faithful servant, and they should never be able to supply her +place. Mrs. Flint took to her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While +my grandmother sat alone with the dead, the doctor came in, leading his +youngest son, who had always been a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was +much attached to her. “Martha,” said he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, +and when he comes where you are, I hope you will be kind to him, for +her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my foster-child, Dr. Flint, the +foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you little know me if you think I +can feel any thing but good will for her children.” + +“I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of +it,” said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. +She would be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for +her. I wish it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away +from you, she would be a great comfort to your old age.” He knew he +was touching a tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother +replied, “It was not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are +gone; and of my nine children only one is left. God help me!” + +To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I +knew that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had +helped to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened +constantly to hear what news was brought from the great house; and +the thought that I could not go to her made me utterly miserable. +At last, as uncle Phillip came into the house, I heard some one +inquire, “How is she?” and he answered, “She is dead.” My little cell +seemed whirling round, and I knew nothing more till I opened my eyes +and found uncle Phillip bending over me. I had no need to ask any +questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died happy.” I could not weep. +My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look _so_,” he said. “Don’t add to +my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has to bear, and that +we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that blessed old +grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting storms +of a slave-mother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + +Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently +without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her +health by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But +now she became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a +beautiful illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder +and slave, if the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her +feet. She sent for the clergyman and asked if he had any objection +to burying aunt Nancy in the doctor’s family burial-place. No +colored person had ever been allowed interment in the white people’s +burying-ground, and the minister knew that all the deceased of our +family reposed together in the old graveyard of the slaves. He +therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with your wish; +but perhaps aunt Nancy’s _mother_ may have some choice as to where her +remains shall be deposited.” + +It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any +feelings. When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she +wanted Nancy to lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own +old body would be buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, +though she said it was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from +_her_. She might have added with touching pathos, “I was so long _used_ +to sleep with her lying near me, on the entry floor.” + +My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own +expense; and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors +to slaves and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, +but perfectly respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. +Flint’s minister read the funeral service. There was a large concourse +of colored people, bond and free, and a few white persons who had +always been friendly to our family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the +procession; and when the body was deposited in its humble resting +place, the mistress dropped a tear, and returned to her carriage, +probably thinking she had performed her duty nobly. + +It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern +travellers, passing through the place, might have described this +tribute of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the +“patriarchal institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between +slaveholders and their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would +have confirmed this impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ +could have told them a different story. We could have given them a +chapter of wrongs and sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, +if they _had_ any hearts to feel for the colored people. We could +have told them how the poor old slave-mother had toiled, year after +year, to earn eight hundred dollars to buy her son Phillip’s right to +his own earnings; and how that same Phillip paid the expenses of the +funeral, which they regarded as doing so much credit to the master. +We could also have told them of a poor, blighted young creature, shut +up in a living grave for years, to avoid the tortures that would be +inflicted on her, if she ventured to come out and look on the face of +her departed friend. + +All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting +for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes +falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + +It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had +always been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported +her. But her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble +were leaving deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to +knock for me to come to the trap-door, and each place had a different +meaning. She now came oftener than she had done, and talked to me +of her dead daughter, while tears trickled slowly down her furrowed +cheeks. I said all I could to comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, +that instead of being able to help her, I was a constant source of +anxiety and trouble. The poor old back was fitted to its burden. It +bent under it, but did not break. + + + + + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + + +I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I +lived in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and +with no space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a +fact; and to me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the +effects of that long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members +of my family, now living in New York and Boston, can testify to the +truth of what I say. + +Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole +scarcely large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. +There, I heard the patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about +the capture of runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to +catch me. + +Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, +and heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to +say, “Your mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had +rolled away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. +At times, I was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very +impatient to know when these dark years would end, and I should again +be allowed to feel the sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + +After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that +Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with +him; and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, +and protect them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be +drowned out of my den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof +was getting badly out of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove +the shingles, lest some one should get a glimpse of me. When storms +occurred in the night, they spread mats and bits of carpet, which in +the morning appeared to have been laid out to dry; but to cover the +roof in the daytime might have attracted attention. Consequently, my +clothes and bedding were often drenched; a process by which the pains +and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs were greatly increased. I +revolved various plans of escape in my mind, which I sometimes imparted +to my grandmother, when she came to whisper with me at the trap-door. +The kind-hearted old woman had an intense sympathy for runaways. +She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted on those who were +captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the sufferings of her +bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and dearest of her +flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would groan out, “O, +don’t think of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no good old +aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my children +were continually beckoning me to the north. + +And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that +the first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them +out to new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor +slaves might reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous +to the free. On the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my +friends, named Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s +debts. My thoughts were with her during all the day, and at night I +anxiously inquired what had been her fate. I was told that she had been +sold to one master, and her four little girls to another master, far +distant; that she had escaped from her purchaser, and was not to be +found. Her mother was the old Aggie I have spoken of. She lived in a +small tenement belonging to my grandmother, and built on the same lot +with her own house. Her dwelling was searched and watched, and that +brought the patrols so near me that I was obliged to keep very close +in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; and not long afterwards +Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her mother’s hut. He told +his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of it, explaining +to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed the trust. +Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her daughter was +concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was bending +under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous secrets +deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + +My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each +other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share +my den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had +brought so much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask +her to incur greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived +too long in bodily pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread +that by some accident, or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in +snatching my children from me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, +and I determined to steer for the North Star at all hazards. At this +crisis, Providence opened an unexpected way for me to escape. My friend +Peter came one evening, and asked to speak with me. “Your day has come, +Linda,” said he. “I have found a chance for you to go to the Free +States. You have a fortnight to decide.” The news seemed too good to +be true; but Peter explained his arrangements, and told me all that +was necessary was for me to say I would go. I was going to answer him +with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny came to my mind. I told +him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I was terribly afraid of +Dr. Flint’s alleged power over my child, and that I could not go and +leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said such a good +chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could be sent +to me; and that for the sake of my children’s welfare I ought not to +hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My +uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, +if his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me +as soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought +nothing had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time +of departure. But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I +left her so suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said he, “and convince +her how necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You +cannot be blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens.” I +was not blind to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present +source of anxiety, and that the older she grew the more nervously +fearful she was of discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally +succeeded in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary for me to +seize the chance so unexpectedly offered. + +The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for +my weak frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time +bewildered me. I made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son +to follow me. I resolved to have an interview with him before I went, +that I might give him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously +I should be waiting for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me +as often as possible to whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon +my writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as I arrived in the Free States, +and asking him to sell me to her. She said she would sacrifice her +house, and all she had in the world, for the sake of having me safe +with my children in any part of the world. If she could only live to +know _that_ she could die in peace. I promised the dear old faithful +friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put the +letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that +not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapacious +slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I had not +been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, common +humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at +the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she +was trembling on the brink of the grave. + +I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further +particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly +detained several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible +murder committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother +of this unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I +have told the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of +some of the neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously +sensitive about runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that +a similar fate awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She +sobbed, and groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was +somewhat contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme +agony. I was grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my +project. + +When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed +and vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would +be a long time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told +him it need not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, +who would be glad enough to take the place that had been provided for +me. I told him about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, +who never turned his back upon any body in distress, white or black, +expressed his readiness to help her. Aggie was much surprised when +she found that we knew her secret. She was rejoiced to hear of such a +chance for Fanny, and arrangements were made for her to go on board the +vessel the next night. They both supposed that I had long been at the +north, therefore my name was not mentioned in the transaction. Fanny +was carried on board at the appointed time, and stowed away in a very +small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased at a price that +would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes to go to fine +old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford the cost +of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from slavery, the +trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only don’t betray +me!” + +The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark +and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the +vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter +too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the +wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with +fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how +she must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say +how thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for +me to come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking +down under her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found +her in a nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had +forgotten to lock the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly +worried about the detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be +discovered, and then Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to +death, and Phillip would be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn +down. Poor Peter! If he should die such a horrible death as the poor +slave James had lately done, and all for his kindness in trying to help +me, how dreadful it would be for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar +to me, and had sent many a sharp pang through my heart. I tried to +suppress my own anxiety, and speak soothingly to her. She brought in +some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear daughter she had recently buried, +and then she lost all control of herself. As she stood there, trembling +and sobbing, a voice from the piazza called out, “Whar is you, aunt +Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, and in her agitation opened the +door, without thinking of me. In stepped Jenny, the mischievous +housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I was concealed in +the house of my white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery whar for +you, aunt Marthy,” said she. “My missis wants you to send her some +crackers.” I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened +me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my +heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had +done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers, locking +the door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect +picture of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my carelessness has +ruined you. The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with +Fanny. I ain’t got another word to say against it now; for there’s no +telling what may happen this day.” + +Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking +that Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He +advised getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better +keep very still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing +the house down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, +because suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to +communicate with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having +implicated him too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. +Vexed as Peter had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous +nature, and said at once that he would do his best to help me, trusting +I should show myself a stronger woman this time. + +He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had +shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext +of urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch +up with her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, +and when the captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers +were pursuing his vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on +board. They hoisted sails, but the boat gained upon them, and the +indefatigable Peter sprang on board. + +The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to +speak about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the +captain replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where +you or the devil would have a tough job to find her.” + +“But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “_She_ is in +great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if +you’ll stop and take her.” + +“What’s her name?” inquired the captain. “Linda,” he replied. + +“That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By +George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + +“O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. +I am too grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great +danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + +After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was +any where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called +herself Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I +want to bring is Linda Brent.” + +The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being +handsomely paid for his detention. + +Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that +if Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know +of it; and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s +family till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that +household. I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing +ever came of it, and she was one of those base characters that would +have jumped to betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty +pieces of silver. + +I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The +intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to +him for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen +him every day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not +dare to venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and +locked us up together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It +was an agitating interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept +together for a little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going +away. I wish I could go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been +_so_ afraid they would come and catch you!” I was greatly surprised, +and asked him how he had found it out. + +He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went +away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know +what made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the +night before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the +room in the night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see _you_, before +she went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and +remember never to tell.’” + +I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said +he never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing +with other children on that side of the house, he always tried to +coax her round to the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, +too. He said he had kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw +him speak to a constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I +now recollected that I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people +were on that side of the house, and I had at the time been puzzled +to conjecture a motive for his actions. Such prudence may seem +extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, being surrounded by +mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to be suspicious and +watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. He had never asked a +question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had often heard him +chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being at the north. + +I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was +a good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, +the Lord would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would +live together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any +thing all day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she +came in with a small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I +begged her to keep a part of it, at least, to pay for Benny’s being +sent to the north; but she insisted, while her tears were falling fast, +that I should take the whole. “You may be sick among strangers,” she +said, “and they would send you to the poorhouse to die.” Ah, that good +grandmother! + +For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no +longer chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, +even with the blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad +at leaving forever that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so +long by the dear old grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young +dream of love; and where, after that had faded away, my children came +to twine themselves so closely round my desolate heart. As the hour +approached for me to leave, I again descended to the storeroom. My +grandmother and Benny were there. She took me by the hand, and said, +“Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, with my child pressed to +my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, loving old friend I was +about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it ever been my lot +to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and protection. It +thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in God. + +Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint +in body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, +though I felt that I should never see it again. + + + + + XXX. Northward Bound. + + +I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a +whirl, and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my +uncle Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that +he might reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there +was any danger. A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step +in, I felt something pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, +looking pale and anxious. He whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping +into the doctor’s window, and he’s at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; +I’ll come.” He hastened away. I clasped the hand of my good uncle, to +whom I owed so much, and of Peter, the brave, generous friend who had +volunteered to run such terrible risks to secure my safety. To this +day I remember how his bright face beamed with joy, when he told me he +had discovered a safe method for me to escape. Yet that intelligent, +enterprising, noble-hearted man was a chattel! Liable, by the laws of a +country that calls itself civilized, to be sold with horses and pigs! +We parted in silence. Our hearts were all too full for words! + +Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the +sailors said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to +your husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; but +I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something +the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should +have pleasant weather. + +When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was +an elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little +box of a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had +seen a spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, +“Linda, can this be _you_? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked +in each other’s arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be +restrained. My sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very +kindly reminded us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would +be prudent for us not to attract any attention. He said that when there +was a sail in sight he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he +had no objection to our being on deck. He assured us that he would keep +a good lookout, and if we acted prudently, he thought we should be in +no danger. He had represented us as women going to meet our husbands +in ——. We thanked him, and promised to observe carefully all the +directions he gave us. + +Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little +cabin. She told me of the sufferings she had gone through in making +her escape, and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s +house. Above all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her +children on that dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, +when I told her of the place where I had passed nearly seven years. +“We have the same sorrows,” said I. “No,” replied she, “you are going +to see your children soon, and there is no hope that I shall ever even +hear from mine.” + +The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind +was against us. I should not have cared for this, if we had been out +of sight of the town; but until there were miles of water between us +and our enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the +constables would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with +the captain and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of +people, and I had heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. +We were so completely in their power, that if they were bad men, our +situation would be dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our +passage, might he not be tempted to make more money by giving us up +to those who claimed us as property? I was naturally of a confiding +disposition, but slavery had made me suspicious of every body. Fanny +did not share my distrust of the captain or his men. She said she was +afraid at first, but she had been on board three days while the vessel +lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed her, or treated her otherwise +than kindly. + +The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His +friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, +reassured me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable +seat, and occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a +Southerner by birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the +Slave States, and that he had recently lost a brother who traded in +slaves. “But,” said he, “it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I +always felt ashamed to acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” +As we passed Snaky Swamp, he pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave +territory that defies all the laws.” I thought of the terrible days I +had spent there, and though it was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me +feel very dismal as I looked at it. + +I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so +refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly +sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating +breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never +realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been +deprived of them. + +Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The +captain said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had +better wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the +best way to avoid suspicion. + +I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + +He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he +had brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little +confidence in him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have +known how difficult it was to trust a white man. He assured us that +we might sleep through the night without fear; that he would take +care we were not left unprotected. Be it said to the honor of this +captain, Southerner as he was, that if Fanny and I had been white +ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he could not have treated us +more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, had rightly estimated +the character of the man to whose honor he had intrusted us. The next +morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I called Fanny to see +the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free soil; for such +I _then_ believed it to be. We watched the reddening sky, and saw the +great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. Soon the waves +began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful glow. Before us +lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and the eyes of +both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, and we +supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone in +the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered +by the demon Slavery. + + + + + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + + +I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I +trusted we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for +granted that all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I +sought out the kind captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told +him I should never cease to be grateful for the service he had rendered +us. I gave him a message to the friends I had left at home, and he +promised to deliver it. We were placed in a row-boat, and in about +fifteen minutes were landed on a wood wharf in Philadelphia. As I +stood looking round, the friendly captain touched me on the shoulder, +and said, “There is a respectable-looking colored man behind you. I +will speak to him about the New York trains, and tell him you wish to +go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to direct me to some +shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and said he would +talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste I could. +Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with salt +water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the great +city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double veils +and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so many +levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. I +thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. +I gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted +it, and found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the +wharf, where the captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. +Jeremiah Durham, minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, +as if I had been an old friend. He told us we were too late for the +morning cars to New York, and must wait until the evening, or the next +morning. He invited me to go home with him, assuring me that his wife +would give me a cordial welcome; and for my friend he would provide a +home with one of his neighbors. I thanked him for so much kindness to +strangers, and told him if I must be detained, I should like to hunt +up some people who formerly went from our part of the country. Mr. +Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he would assist +me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook +their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, +and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly +conceive of. + +I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many +people in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us +with an expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, +by sitting on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not +easily decide to what nation I belonged. + +Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. +I was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless +her! I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I +received her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, +in a home made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, +and sighed. + +After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had +spoken of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much +pleasure in looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we +retraced our steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. +Durham observed that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to +meet; that he was surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for +a single woman. He was approaching a subject on which I was extremely +sensitive. He would ask about my husband next, I thought, and if I +answered him truly, what would he think of me? I told him I had two +children, one in New York the other at the south. He asked some further +questions, and I frankly told him some of the most important events of +my life. It was painful for me to do it; but I would not deceive him. +If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought he ought to know how +far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have tried your feelings,” +said he. “I did not question you from idle curiosity. I wanted to +understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of any +service to you, or your little girl. Your straight-forward answers do +you credit; but don’t answer every body so openly. It might give some +heartless people a pretext for treating you with contempt.” + +That word _contempt_ burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God +alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I +am permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to +live in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + +“I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be +governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + +When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world +for a while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon +me. They brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst +of my meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham +entered, her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an +anti-slavery friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame +my dread of encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions +were asked concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but +I observed how careful they all were not to say any thing that might +wound my feelings. How gratifying this was, can be fully understood +only by those who have been accustomed to be treated as if they were +not included within the pale of human beings. The anti-slavery friend +had come to inquire into my plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. +Fanny was comfortably established, for the present, with a friend of +Mr. Durham. The Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New +York. The same was offered to me, but I declined to accept it; telling +them that my grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses +to the end of my journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a +few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly +accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, +and some dread also of railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in +my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event. + +That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it +before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for +a long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by +fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, +every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white +people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for +insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored +people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was +but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often +required to drag it to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s +daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept +through all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What’s the +matter?” said she, rubbing her eyes. + +“They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I +replied. + +“What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get +up, without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + +I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help +fill the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how +things went on in great cities. + +At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and +various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an +early hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. +Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast +table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I +joined in the mirth. + +I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new +friends that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with +my kind hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly +my superior. Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little +stock of knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she +deemed prudent. One day she took me to an artist’s room, and showed me +the portraits of some of her children. I had never seen any paintings +of colored people before, and they seemed to me beautiful. + +At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to +accompany us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand +of my good hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her +husband had repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, +but she never made any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate +silence of womanly sympathy. + +When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will +have a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first +class cars.” + +Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” +said he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored +people to go in the first-class cars.” + +This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. +Colored people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white +people, at the south, but there they were not required to pay for the +privilege. It made me sad to find how the north aped the customs of +slavery. + +We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, +too high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with +people, apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and +cradles, containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had +a cigar or pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round +freely. The fumes of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were +sickening to my senses, and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse +jokes and ribald songs around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. +Since that time there has been some improvement in these matters. + + + + + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + + +When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen +calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to +Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and +said, “I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price +was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. +“Troth an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen +smiled at each other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. +“Yes, it’s dacent it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ +ladies in a cab that was not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went +for the baggage, and soon reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, +ladies.” We followed, and found our trunks on a truck, and we were +invited to take our seats on them. We told him that was not what we +bargained for, and he must take the trunks off. He swore they should +not be touched till we had paid him six shillings. In our situation +it was not prudent to attract attention, and I was about to pay him +what he required, when a man near by shook his head for me not to do +it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had our trunks +fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house in +Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The +Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of +her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part +of the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. +He came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and +asked him to aid me in procuring an interview. + +I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just +arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north +seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came +from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have +my daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and +he agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up +Myrtle Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about +to enter, when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. +I turned, and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman +who used to live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years +ago. Surprised and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms +round her, and inquired concerning her mother. + +“You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and +there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away +from me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two +years since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by +eyes less observing than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go +into the house; but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which +she would do as quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs +to let her come and see me. It was agreed that I should send for her +the next day. Her companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my +arrival. When I entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, +and I waited for her return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, +“Where is Linda Brent? I used to know her father and mother.” Soon +Sarah came with her mother. So there was quite a company of us, all +from my grandmother’s neighborhood. These friends gathered round me and +questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they cried, and they shouted. They +thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe on +Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. How different from the +silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + +The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied +with the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen +lived. That I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; +otherwise I should have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not +do to let them know I had just arrived from the south, for that would +involve the suspicion of my having been harbored there, and might bring +trouble, if not ruin, on several people. + +I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to +subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all +upon slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left +me no alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating +that I had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have +my daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. +Hobbs, inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have +any fears. The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind +at ease. When I asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but +there was no heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said +it from an unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before +she left me, she asked very earnestly, “Mother, when will you take me +to live with you?” It made me sad to think that I could not give her a +home till I went to work and earned the means; and that might take me a +long time. When she was placed with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that +she should be sent to school. She had been there two years, and was now +nine years old, and she scarcely knew her letters. There was no excuse +for this, for there were good public schools in Brooklyn, to which she +could have been sent without expense. + +She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received +in a friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen +was a useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and +said, “I suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has _given_ her +to my eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when +she grows up.” I did not answer a word. How _could_ she, who knew by +experience the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware +of the relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how _could_ she look me +in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + +I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of +ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, +and afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. +Perhaps they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s +knowledge was quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient +to go to work and earn money, that I might change the uncertain +position of my children. Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to +emancipate them. I had also been deceived about Ellen. What security +had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt that I had none. + +I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order +to protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I +called myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I +sat down that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him +to state the lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged +by law to his daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + +Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear +brother William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having +heard of him in Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found +he had gone to New Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he +had gone on a whaling voyage, and would not return for some months. +I went back to New York to get employment near Ellen. I received an +answer from Dr. Flint, which gave me no encouragement. He advised me to +return and submit myself to my rightful owners, and then any request I +might make would be granted. I lent this letter to a friend, who lost +it; otherwise I would present a copy to my readers. + + + + + XXXIII. A Home Found. + + +My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly +improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling +whenever I walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that +those who employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my +peculiar position, I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the +families I had so faithfully served. + +One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her +babe, and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me +she preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to +the care of infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She +asked me many questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a +recommendation from my former employers. She told me she was an English +woman, and that was a pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard +they had less prejudice against color than Americans entertained. It +was agreed that we should try each other for a week. The trial proved +satisfactory to both parties, and I was engaged for a month. + +The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this +place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and +sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity +of passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so +painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would +have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to +save me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not +yet told her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often +sad, and kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my +children, and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention +the constant feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed +for some one to confide in; but I had been so deceived by white people, +that I had lost all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, +I thought it was for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family +with the distrustful feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; +but ere six months had passed, I found that the gentle deportment of +Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of her lovely babe were thawing my chilled +heart. My narrow mind also began to expand under the influences of her +intelligent conversation, and the opportunities for reading, which were +gladly allowed me whenever I had leisure from my duties. I gradually +became more energetic and more cheerful. + +The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, +often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me +a home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare +to accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge +of my precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that +it was important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by +dint of labor and economy, I could make a home for my children. I +was far from feeling satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not +well cared for. She sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she +generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a +pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This was accompanied by a +promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became +due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus many dollars +of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed. +That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that their +pecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious young +daughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners, +and had frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr. +Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation +of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her; +and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New York for a +while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It +did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a mother’s +making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused to +let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I +made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s +part towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. +Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her +own physician to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my +request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. +I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my +child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive +was a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did +her injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me +to feel otherwise. + +Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful +that it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. +When it laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender +arms confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when +Benny and Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One +bright morning, as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, +my attention was attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was +closely observing every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. +Could it be my brother William? It _must_ be he—and yet, how changed! +I placed the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, +beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my +brother’s arms. How much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and +how we cried, over each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and +again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended +so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New +York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as +lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are formed +by suffering together. + + + + + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + + +My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my +letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I +received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. +In order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader +must bear in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the +north many years. They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three +excursions to New York in search of me; that I had heard his voice, +when he came to borrow five hundred dollars for that purpose; and that +I had seen him pass on his way to the steamboat. Neither were they +aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy’s death and burial were +conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept the letter, of +which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + + “Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather + from it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, + among your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with + the contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to make + you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return home + as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, it + is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although it + would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be allowed to + purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from her owners, + and return free, it would have an injurious effect. From your + letter, I think your situation must be hard and uncomfortable. Come + home. You have it in your power to be reinstated in our affections. + We would receive you with open arms and tears of joy. You need + not apprehend any unkind treatment, as we have not put ourselves + to any trouble or expense to get you. Had we done so, perhaps we + should feel otherwise. You know my sister was always attached to + you, and that you were never treated as a slave. You were never + put to hard work, nor exposed to field labor. On the contrary, you + were taken into the house, and treated as one of us, and almost + as free; and we, at least, felt that you were above disgracing + yourself by running away. Believing you may be induced to come home + voluntarily has induced me to write for my sister. The family will + be rejoiced to see you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a + great desire to have you come, when she heard your letter read. In + her old age she needs the consolation of having her children round + her. Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. In + her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high the + price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have seen + us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our tears in + one common stream, you would have thought the same heartfelt tie + existed between a master and his servant, as between a mother and + her child. But this subject is too painful to dwell upon. I must + bring my letter to a close. If you are contented to stay away from + your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, + stay where you are. We shall never trouble ourselves to apprehend + you. But should you prefer to come home, we will do all that we + can to make you happy. If you do not wish to remain in the family, + I know that father, by our persuasion, will be induced to let you + be purchased by any person you may choose in our community. You + will please answer this as soon as possible, and let us know your + decision. Sister sends much love to you. In the mean time believe + me your sincere friend and well wisher.” + +This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I +knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and +though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in +former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the +hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough +to go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity +of the African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks +for their cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, +charged with base ingratitude. + +Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at +the south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. +The letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on +the way. Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that +important business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, +and asked permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, +for a fortnight. I started on my journey immediately; and as soon +as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother that if Benny came, he must +be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting for a good chance to +send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal power to do so, +without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and when my +children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of sale +drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, +but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of +colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase +them, with the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be +dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes unpopular. + +There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly +to New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was +requested to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud +rap at my door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” +he exclaimed, “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How +d’you do?” + +O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been +a slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. +“Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see +her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I +wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t +know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I +lost all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose +free boys can get along here at the north as well as white boys.” + +I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much +he was mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of +clothes. The rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering +of questions, with the wish constantly repeated that the good old +grandmother was with us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write +to her immediately, and be sure to tell her every thing about his +voyage, and his journey to Boston. + +Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call +upon me, and invite me to return with him; but not being able to +ascertain where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and +the affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were +doomed to disappointment. + +As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care +of my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained +through the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties +faithfully, and finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions +of baby Mary, the considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and +occasional interviews with my darling daughter. + +But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was +necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh +air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might +recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I +like one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. +What a comfort it is, to be free to _say_ so! + + + + + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + + +It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We +went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded +for tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had +better come to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby +had her supper, but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am +afraid of being insulted.” “O no, not if you are with _me_,” she said. +I saw several white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do +the same. We were at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner +seated, than a gruff voice said, “Get up! You know you are not allowed +to sit here.” I looked up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, +saw that the speaker was a colored man. If his office required him +to enforce the by-laws of the boat, he might, at least, have done it +politely. I replied, “I shall not get up, unless the captain comes and +takes me up.” No cup of tea was offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me +hers and called for another. I looked to see whether the other nurses +were treated in a similar manner. They were all properly waited on. + +Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was +making a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and +we’ll go in together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will +you allow your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew +this was to be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, +and therefore I did not mind it. + +At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce +took one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with +gladness, of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few +people, but here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. +I looked round me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who +would recognize me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a +short time. + +We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the +remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting +the clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to +see Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she +said, were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. +Thorne, has come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” +I accepted the warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the +next day, and would try to see her when I came back. + +Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim +Crow car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride +through the streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where +I found the same manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so +discourages the feelings, and represses the energies of the colored +people. We reached Rockaway before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a +large hotel, beautifully situated by the sea-side—a great resort of +the fashionable world. Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great +variety of nations. Some of the ladies had colored waiting-maids and +coachmen, but I was the only nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. +When the tea bell rang, I took little Mary and followed the other +nurses. Supper was served in a long hall. A young man, who had the +ordering of things, took the circuit of the table two or three times, +and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower end of it. As there was +but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my lap. Whereupon the +young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner possible, “Will +you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand behind it +and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the kitchen, +where you will have a good supper.” + +This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when +I looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one +shade lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my +presence were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly +took the child in my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to +the table again. Mr. Bruce ordered meals to be sent to the room for +little Mary and I. This answered for a few days; but the waiters of the +establishment were white, and they soon began to complain, saying they +were not hired to wait on negroes. The landlord requested Mr. Bruce +to send me down to my meals, because his servants rebelled against +bringing them up, and the colored servants of other boarders were +dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + +My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied +with _themselves_, for not having too much self-respect to submit to +such treatment; that there was no difference in the price of board +for colored and white servants, and there was no justification for +difference of treatment. I staid a month after this, and finding I was +resolved to stand up for my rights, they concluded to treat me well. +Let every colored man and woman do this, and eventually we shall cease +to be trampled under foot by our oppressors. + + + + + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + + +After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go +and see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed +Mrs. Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous +to avoid seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, +and insisted on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said +she, “and he is sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in +New York. He told me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt +Martha for too many little acts of kindness for him to be base enough +to betray her grandchild.” + +This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the +south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old +slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom +they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which +he professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept +at a distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded +there was nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, +it might be the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister +up stairs. He met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my +escape from slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + +I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful +child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant +lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own +inconveniences and troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily +perceived that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits +I found her unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, +she said nothing was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made +her look so very grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled +about the dissipation that was continually going on in the house. She +was sent to the store very often for rum and brandy, and she felt +ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a +great deal, and their hands trembled so that they had to call her to +pour out the liquor for them. “But for all that,” said she, “Mr. Hobbs +is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I feel sorry for him.” +I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up a hundred +dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her and +Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not +to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover +till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only +annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude +to my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile +language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + +I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I +found Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said +she, “I’ve been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne +has written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. +Mrs. Hobbs will tell you all about it!” + +The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the +grape-vine arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter +in his hand, which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping +the yard at the time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, +she picked up the pieces and carried them to the children, saying, “I +wonder who Mr. Thorne has been writing to.” + +“I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the +children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + +“But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been +writing to the south about my mother.” + +They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly +put the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. +They were no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I +declare, Ellen, I believe you are right.” + +The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were +as follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She +can be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of +us here to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a +lover of my country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” +He concluded by informing the doctor of the street and number where I +lived. The children carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately +went to her brother’s room for an explanation. He was not to be found. +The servants said they saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and +they supposed he had gone to the post office. The natural inference +was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint a copy of those fragments. When he +returned, his sister accused him of it, and he did not deny the charge. +He went immediately to his room, and the next morning he was missing. +He had gone over to New York, before any of the family were astir. + +It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the +city with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable +home, and all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be +frustrated by that demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told +Mrs. Bruce my story. I had not concealed it merely on account of being +a fugitive; that would have made her anxious, but it would have excited +sympathy in her kind heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid +of losing it, if I told her all the particulars of my sad story. But +now I felt that it was necessary for her to know how I was situated. I +had once left her abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would +not be proper to do it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the +morning. But the sadness of my face attracted her attention, and, in +answer to her kind inquiries, I poured out my full heart to her, before +bed time. She listened with true womanly sympathy, and told me she +would do all she could to protect me. How my heart blessed her! + +Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were +consulted. They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk +would be great if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a +carriage to the house of one of her friends, where she assured me I +should be safe until my brother could arrive, which would be in a few +days. In the interval my thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She +was mine by birth, and she was also mine by Southern law, since my +grandmother held the bill of sale that made her so. I did not feel +that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly +about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my entreaties, on condition +that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise. +She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a +school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in +October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in +the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and +converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, +and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, the +tears came to her eyes. She said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. +She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of +such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + +My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us +to go to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern +travel in that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all +inquirers that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. +We reached the steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed +colored hands, but I knew that colored passengers were not admitted to +the cabin. I was very desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only +on account of exposure to the night air, but also to avoid observation. +Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, +and asked, as a particular favor, that she would treat us well. He +said to me, “Go and speak to the captain yourself by and by. Take your +little girl with you, and I am sure that he will not let her sleep on +deck.” With these kind words and a shake of the hand he departed. + +The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly +home where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left +me to purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success +than he would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, +and she gave me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most +unsophisticated manner I said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you +for cabin tickets. I cannot possibly consent to sleep on deck with my +little daughter.” She assured me there was no mistake. She said on some +of the routes colored people were allowed to sleep in the cabin, but +not on this route, which was much travelled by the wealthy. I asked her +to show me to the captain’s office, and she said she would after tea. +When the time came, I took Ellen by the hand and went to the captain, +politely requesting him to change our tickets, as we should be very +uncomfortable on deck. He said it was contrary to their custom, but +he would see that we had berths below; he would also try to obtain +comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he was not certain, but +he would speak to the conductor about it, when the boat arrived. I +thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came afterwards +and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that he had +spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very +much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether +the pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the +stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, +and had pleaded with him in my behalf. + +When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, +and showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked +us to take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured +to move on toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered +us, and we reached Boston in safety. + +The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt +as if I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first +time during many years, I had both my children together with me. They +greatly enjoyed their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I +watched them with a swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + +I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a +friend, that we should share expenses and keep house together. I +represented to Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and +must remain with me for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable +to read or spell at her age, so instead of sending her to school +with Benny, I instructed her myself till she was fitted to enter an +intermediate school. The winter passed pleasantly, while I was busy +with my needle, and my children with their books. + + + + + XXXVII. A Visit To England + + +In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, +in this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing +voice. I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a +tender mother. Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s +relatives in England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of +her. The little motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to +me, and I thought she would be happier in my care than in that of a +stranger. I could also earn more in this way than I could by my needle. +So I put Benny to a trade, and left Ellen to remain in the house with +my friend and go to school. + +We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant +voyage of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took +lodgings at the Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious +than those I had seen in American hotels; but my situation was +indescribably more pleasant. For the first time in my life I was in a +place where I was treated according to my deportment, without reference +to my complexion. I felt as if a great millstone had been lifted from +my breast. Ensconced in a pleasant room, with my dear little charge, +I laid my head on my pillow, for the first time, with the delightful +consciousness of pure, unadulterated freedom. + +As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see +the wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that +flowed through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the +stagnation in our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to +spend some days with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was +necessary for me to accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic +method of English education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary +should steer straight in the midst of so much propriety. I closely +observed her little playmates and their nurses, being ready to take any +lessons in the science of good management. The children were more rosy +than American children, but I did not see that they differed materially +in other respects. They were like all children—sometimes docile and +sometimes wayward. + +We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to +be the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six +shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and +sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they +lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where +a woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound +of meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the +cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured +in the United States for the same money. I had heard much about the +oppression of the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, +many of them, among the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their +little thatched cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest +and most ignorant among them was vastly superior to the condition of +the most favored slaves in America. They labored hard; but they were +not ordered out to toil while the stars were in the sky, and driven and +slashed by an overseer, through heat and cold, till the stars shone out +again. Their homes were very humble; but they were protected by law. +No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of night, and flog them at +their pleasure. The father, when he closed his cottage door, felt safe +with his family around him. No master or overseer could come and take +from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate to earn their +living; but the parents knew where their children were going, and could +communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and wife, +parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land +to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor +people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies +were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law +forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each +other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine +lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I +repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants +was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American slave. + +I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed +to paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints +the condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of +_my_ experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed +eyes. If she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting +among the fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on +some plantation in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things +that would make her tell quite a different story. + +My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of +my having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous +manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, +in my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others +like him; and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers +of the gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. +The whole service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in +Steventon was in the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple +of Jesus. The beauty of his daily life inspired me with faith in the +genuineness of Christian professions. Grace entered my heart, and I +knelt at the communion table, I trust, in true humility of soul. + +I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had +anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of +prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time +came for us to return to America. + + + + + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + + +We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed +to rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to +be afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and +I hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, +and improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He +had been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months +every thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite +with his fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered +a fact they had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at +once transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices +were Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to +their dignity to have a “nigger” among them, after they had been told +that he _was_ a “nigger.” They began by treating him with silent +scorn, and finding that he returned the same, they resorted to insults +and abuse. He was too spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. +Being desirous to do something to support himself, and having no one +to advise him, he shipped for a whaling voyage. When I received these +tidings I shed many tears, and bitterly reproached myself for having +left him so long. But I had done it for the best, and now all I could +do was to pray to the heavenly Father to guide and protect him. + +Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss +Emily Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + + “In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could not + then act independently of my father, I knew there could be nothing + done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who were willing + to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this I would not + consent. I have always been attached to you, and would not like + to see you the slave of another, or have unkind treatment. I am + married now, and can protect you. My husband expects to move to + Virginia this spring, where we think of settling. I am very anxious + that you should come and live with me. If you are not willing to + come, you may purchase yourself; but I should prefer having you + live with me. If you come, you may, if you like, spend a month with + your grandmother and friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. + Think this over, and write as soon as possible, and let me know + the conclusion. Hoping that your children are well, I remain your + friend and mistress.” + +Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I +felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such professions. + + “‘Come up into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly; + ‘’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.’” + +It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, +since they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further +trouble from them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be +as successful in future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to +devote to the education of my children, and to secure a home for them. +It seemed not only hard, but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not +possibly regard myself as a piece of property. Moreover, I had worked +many years without wages, and during that time had been obliged to +depend on my grandmother for many comforts in food and clothing. My +children certainly belonged to me; but though Dr. Flint had incurred +no expense for their support, he had received a large sum of money for +them. I knew the law would decide that I was his property, and would +probably still give his daughter a claim to my children; but I regarded +such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had no rights that I was +bound to respect. + +The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts +had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so +called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I +relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now +aware that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + + + + + XXXIX. The Confession. + + +For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably +in Boston. At the end of that time, my brother William offered to +send Ellen to a boarding school. It required a great effort for me +to consent to part with her, for I had few near ties, and it was +her presence that made my two little rooms seem home-like. But my +judgment prevailed over my selfish feelings. I made preparations for +her departure. During the two years we had lived together I had often +resolved to tell her something about her father; but I had never +been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a shrinking dread of +diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have curiosity on the +subject, but she had never asked a question. She was always very +careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now that she +was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, she +might hear my story from some one who did not understand the palliating +circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the subject, +her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + +When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to +leave you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to +improve myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + +I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, +solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; +I have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in +slavery, and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell +her how they had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her +arms, and exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + +I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + +“I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, +and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five +months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me +as he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, +for Fanny’s nurse told me so; but she said I must never tell any body, +and I never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss +me, as he did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did +at her. I thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a +little girl then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any +thing about my father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as +she spoke, and I thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded +to impart had not diminished the affection of my child. I had not the +slightest idea she knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should +have spoken to her long before; for my pent-up feelings had often +longed to pour themselves out to some one I could trust. But I loved +the dear girl better for the delicacy she had manifested towards her +unfortunate mother. + +The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the +village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed +as if all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully +lonely. I was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to +employ me, requesting me to come and sew in her family for several +weeks. On my return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought +of opening an anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining +with it the sale of some books and stationery; and he wanted me to +unite with him. We tried it, but it was not successful. We found warm +anti-slavery friends there, but the feeling was not general enough to +support such an establishment. I passed nearly a year in the family of +Isaac and Amy Post, practical believers in the Christian doctrine of +human brotherhood. They measure a man’s worth by his character, not by +his complexion. The memory of those beloved and honored friends will +remain with me to my latest hour. + + + + + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + + +My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to +California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen +liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her +history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make +capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered +that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase +her advantages and diminish her expenses. + +I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and +I preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return +from Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the +darling little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into +a cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall +girl now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it +was proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one +hesitation, and that was my feeling of insecurity in New York, now +greatly increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I +resolved to try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. +The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic +influences, and still living in the midst of them; but if she had any +prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it; and as for the +system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry +of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a person of +excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to the +present, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with +her and hers! + +About the time that I reëntered the Bruce family, an event occurred of +disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first +fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds +of the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a +reign of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in +its whirl of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals +of the poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling +voice of Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor +hunted colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the +Lord, from Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for +twenty years, fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard +labor, had made herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice +her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune +among strangers in Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had +never known before—that her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her +to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a husband discovered that +his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as “the child follows the +condition of its mother,” the children of his love were liable to be +seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those humble homes, +there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the legislators of +the “dominant race” for the blood they were crushing out of trampled +hearts? + +When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went +to California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought +on our oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and +never had I seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern +hostility to our oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of +the law; for he did not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought +into the Free States by his master. But I was subject to it; and so +were hundreds of intelligent and industrious people all around us. I +seldom ventured into the streets; and when it was necessary to do an +errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the family, I went as much as possible +through back streets and by-ways. What a disgrace to a city calling +itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of offence, and seeking to +perform their duties conscientiously, should be condemned to live in +such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for protection! This +state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu vigilance +committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their persecuted +race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the +newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. +I did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband +might be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, +if necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that +“knowledge should be increased.” + +This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here +briefly relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who +belonged to a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a +son and daughter heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the +slaves, Luke was included in the son’s portion. This young man became +a prey to the vices growing out of the “patriarchal institution,” +and when he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried +his vices with him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his +limbs, by excessive dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his +bed-ridden master, whose despotic habits were greatly increased by +exasperation at his own helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, +and, for the most trivial occurrence, he would order his attendant +to bare his back, and kneel beside the couch, while he whipped him +till his strength was exhausted. Some days he was not allowed to wear +any thing but his shirt, in order to be in readiness to be flogged. +A day seldom passed without his receiving more or less blows. If the +slightest resistance was offered, the town constable was sent for to +execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience how much more +the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than the comparatively +feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, and was +finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in constant +requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s care, +and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring +any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to +increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a +mere degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest +freaks of despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, +the constable was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of +a nature too filthy to be repeated. When I fled from the house of +bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the bedside of this cruel +and disgusting wretch. + +One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, +I was hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young +man approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, +I recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who +had escaped from the black pit; but, remembering this poor fellow’s +extreme hardships, I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, +though I no longer called it _free_ soil. I well remembered what a +desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up to +him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when +I mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the +Fugitive Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was +a city of kidnappers. + +He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I +runned away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem +speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey +ain’t sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk +good car ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis +nigger.” + +He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had +laid. I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon +it, I hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days +fur dem cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought +dis nigger had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. +Massa Henry he lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, +I knowed de debbil would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his +money ’long too. So I tuk some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket +of his ole trousers. An ven he was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole +trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, +“You see I didn’t _steal_ it; dey _gub_ it to me. I tell you, I had +mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findin it; but he didn’t +git it.” + +This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. +When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the +laws sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have +more regard to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become +somewhat enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, +much-abused Luke, in thinking he had a _right_ to that money, as a +portion of his unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have +not since heard from him. + +All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children +out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I +met. I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders +make their appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject +to slave laws as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a +State called free! + +Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint +knew of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have +me caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s +children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, +which slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in +sneers at their cupidity and mean servility. + +I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt +measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied +immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I +should carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child +with me; for the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object +it loves. But how few mothers would have consented to have one of their +own babes become a fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on +whom the legislators of the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When +I spoke of the sacrifice she was making, in depriving herself of her +dear baby, she replied, “It is better for you to have baby with you, +Linda; for if they get on your track, they will be obliged to bring the +child to me; and then, if there is a possibility of saving you, you +shall be saved.” + +This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many +respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her +for harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws +of her country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She +replied, “I am very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one +thousand dollars fine. Shame on my country that it _is_ so! I am ready +to incur the penalty. I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have +any poor victim torn from _my_ house, to be carried back to slavery.” + +The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I +write of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy +with my persecuted people! + +I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of +a senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This +honorable gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, +as did the senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was +strongly opposed to it; but he was enough under its influence to be +afraid of having me remain in his house many hours. So I was sent +into the country, where I remained a month with the baby. When it was +supposed that Dr. Flint’s emissaries had lost track of me, and given up +the pursuit for the present, I returned to New York. + + + + + XLI. Free At Last. + + +Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind +to me. I was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not +always wear a cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the +contrary, I was doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could +never go out to breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. +This seemed hard; and I could not think it was a right state of things +in any civilized country. + +From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. +She could not write; but she employed others to write for her. The +following is an extract from one of her last letters:— + + “Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in the + Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect him. + Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to train them + for God’s children. May he protect and provide for you, is the + prayer of your loving old mother.” + +These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have +tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but +her messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, +and I mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after +I returned from my flight to New England, I received a letter from +her, in which she wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed +family. Poor old man! I hope he made his peace with God.” + +I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings +she had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her +mistress had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and +I thought to myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she +could entirely forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news +of my old master’s death softened my feelings towards him. There are +wrongs which even the grave does not bury. The man was odious to me +while he lived, and his memory is odious now. + +His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had +threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery +after he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of +his survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions +than I supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried +several children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. +The doctor had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to +will to his heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I +was well aware what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my +fears were confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my +guard, because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not +afford to lose so valuable a slave as I was. + +I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday +night, being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as +usual. I went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and +found the boy about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and +examined the list of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, +you cannot imagine the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I +read the names of Mr. and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. +It was a third-rate hotel, and that circumstance convinced me of the +truth of what I had heard, that they were short of funds and had need +of my value, as _they_ valued me; and that was by dollars and cents. I +hastened with the paper to Mrs. Bruce. Her heart and hand were always +open to every one in distress, and she always warmly sympathized with +mine. It was impossible to tell how near the enemy was. He might have +passed and repassed the house while we were sleeping. He might at that +moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I ventured out of doors. I had +never seen the husband of my young mistress, and therefore I could +not distinguish him from any other stranger. A carriage was hastily +ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, taking the baby +again with me into exile. After various turnings and crossings, and +returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of Mrs. Bruce’s +friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned immediately, +to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to inquire for me. + +It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I +had a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after +Mrs. Bruce’s return to her house, before several people came to inquire +for me. One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, +and another said he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was +requested to deliver in person. + +They were told, “She _has_ lived here, but she has left.” + +“How long ago?” + +“I don’t know, sir.” + +“Do you know where she went?” + +“I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + +This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a +Yankee pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a +slaveholder. He managed to get introduced into what was called the +first society, and married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between +him and her brother, and the brother cowhided him. This led to a family +feud, and he proposed to remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no +property, and his own means had become circumscribed, while a wife and +children depended upon him for support. Under these circumstances, +it was very natural that he should make an effort to put me into his +pocket. + +I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had +the most implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. +and Mrs. Dodge had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should +call upon them to make inquiries about his friends at the south, with +whom Dr. Flint’s family were well acquainted. He thought there was no +impropriety in his doing so, and he consented. He went to the hotel, +and knocked at the door of Mr. Dodge’s room, which was opened by the +gentleman himself, who gruffly inquired, “What brought you here? How +came you to know I was in the city?” + +“Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to +ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give +any offence.” + +“Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + +“What girl, sir?” + +“You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s +plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where +she is.” + +“Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your +reach, sir.” + +“Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance +to buy her freedom.” + +“I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she +would go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for +her freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she +couldn’t do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate +her children.” + +This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between +them. My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of +the day I received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from +the south, in the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature +of their business was very plain. + +Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next +morning. She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some +clew to me might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded +with an earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a +bitter, disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. +I had been chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase +was never to end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, +yet not daring to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells +ringing for afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, +“Will the preachers take for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the +captive, and the opening of prison doors to them that are bound’? or +will they preach from the text, ‘Do unto others as ye would they should +do unto you’?” Oppressed Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge +in that city; John Mitchell was free to proclaim in the City Hall his +desire for “a plantation well stocked with slaves;” but there I sat, an +oppressed American, not daring to show my face. God forgive the black +and bitter thoughts I indulged on that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, +“Oppression makes even a wise man mad;” and I was not wise. + +I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her +right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. +This it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in +my soul. Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my +innocent young daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought +of what I had suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a +tiger’s when a hunter tries to seize her young. + +Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as +she turned away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her +expostulations unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten +o’clock in the evening arrived and Ellen had not returned, this +watchful and unwearied friend became anxious. She came to us in a +carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk for my journey—trusting that by +this time I would listen to reason. I yielded to her, as I ought to +have done before. + +The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New +England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed +to me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, +informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that +she intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I +felt grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea +was not so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind +had become enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider +myself an article of property; and to pay money to those who had so +grievously oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory +of triumph. I wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being +sold from one owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such +a great obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred +to go to my brother in California. + +Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York +to enter into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three +hundred dollars down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into +obligations to relinquish all claim to me or my children forever after. +He who called himself my master said he scorned so small an offer for +such a valuable servant. The gentleman replied, “You can do as you +choose, sir. If you reject this offer you will never get any thing; for +the woman has friends who will convey her and her children out of the +country.” + +Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he +agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief +letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for +your freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to +see you and my sweet babe.” + +My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s +true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words +struck me like a blow. So I was _sold_ at last! A human being _sold_ in +the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future +generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in +New York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It +may hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking +to measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well +know the value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do +not like to look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend +who procured it, but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for +what never rightfully belonged to him or his. + +I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that +when it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my +weary shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to +unveil my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been +glad to have met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and +known me, that he might have mourned over the untoward circumstances +which compelled him to sell me for three hundred dollars. + +When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, +and our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, +I’m _so_ glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were +going to be transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy +you for your services. I should have done just the same, if you had +been going to sail for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have +the satisfaction of knowing that you left me a free woman.” + +My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father +had tried to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had +been disappointed. I hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. +I remembered how my good old grandmother had laid up her earnings +to purchase me in later years, and how often her plans had been +frustrated. How that faithful, loving old heart would leap for joy, +if she could look on me and my children now that we were free! My +relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God had raised +me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the precious, +long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. +Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless +handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word is +sacred. + +My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a +letter came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease +from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + +Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an +obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew +of such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one +of his friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid +him low, they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are +eulogies to the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It +does not require man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they +called a colored man a _citizen_! Strange words to be uttered in that +region! + +Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with +marriage. I and my children are now free! We are as free from the +power of slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and +though that, according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it +is a vast improvement in _my_ condition. The dream of my life is not +yet realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own. I +still long for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it +for my children’s sake far more than for my own. But God so orders +circumstances as to keep me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, +gratitude, also bind me to her side. It is a privilege to serve her who +pities my oppressed people, and who has bestowed the inestimable boon +of freedom on me and my children. + +It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years +I passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the +retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy +recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like +light, fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + + + + + APPENDIX. + + +The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of +Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by +friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in +the preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under +her hospitable roof. + + L.M.C. + + “The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by her + affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously related + to us some of the almost incredible events in his sister’s life. I + immediately became much interested in Linda; for her appearance was + prepossessing, and her deportment indicated remarkable delicacy of + feeling and purity of thought. + + “As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden of + these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous and + refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication of + her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a more + earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still remaining in + that soul-crushing condition, which was so unendurable to her. But + her sensitive spirit shrank from publicity. She said, “You know + a woman can whisper her cruel wrongs in the ear of a dear friend + much easier than she can record them for the world to read.” Even + in talking with me, she wept so much, and seemed to suffer such + mental agony, that I felt her story was too sacred to be drawn from + her by inquisitive questions, and I left her free to tell as much, + or as little, as she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of + publishing her experience, for the sake of the good it might do; + and, at last, she undertook the task. + + “Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, and + she has worked untiringly to procure education for her children; + several times she has been obliged to leave her employments, in + order to fly from the man-hunters and woman-hunters of our land; + but she pressed through all these obstacles and overcame them. + After the labors of the day were over, she traced secretly and + wearily, by the midnight lamp, a truthful record of her eventful + life. + + “This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been _bought_ was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: ‘I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me _that_ freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served for + Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was robbed of + my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid myself of a + tyrant.’ + + “Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this country, + which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions laws and + customs which make the experiences of the present more strange than + any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. + “Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859.” + +The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable +colored citizen of Boston. + + L.M.C. + + “This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to + fall, will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to + serve a special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The circumstances + recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to me. I knew of + her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment of her children; + of their sale and redemption; of her seven years’ concealment; + and of her subsequent escape to the North. I am now a resident of + Boston, and am a living witness to the truth of this interesting + narrative. + + George W. Lowther.” + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 *** diff --git a/11030-h/11030-h.htm b/11030-h/11030-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a2cdfd --- /dev/null +++ b/11030-h/11030-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8704 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"> + <style> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .preserve {font-size: 90%; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4, .ph5 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } + .ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } + .ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } + .ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } + .ph4,.ph5 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } + div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} + h2,h3 {page-break-before: avoid;} + .smallcaps {font-variant: small-caps;} + .right {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%; font-size: 90%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} + .poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .stanza {margin: 0.75em auto; text-indent: -3em;} + .stanza div.i0 {padding-left: 3em;} + .stanza div.i1 {padding-left: 3.5em;} + .stanza div.i20 {padding-left: 14em;} + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 ***</div> + +<p>[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.]</p> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h1> + <span class='ph2'>INCIDENTS</span><br> + <span class='ph5'>IN THE</span><br> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + </h1> + <div class='ph4'>WRITTEN BY HERSELF.</div> + <p> + “Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual + bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of <i>degradation</i> + involved in that word, <span class="smallcaps">Slavery</span>; if they had, they would never cease their + efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">A Woman of North Carolina.</span></p> + <p> + “Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! + Give ear unto my speech.” + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">Isaiah</span> xxxii. 9.</p> + <div class="center"><br><br><b>EDITED BY L. MARIA CHILD</b></div> + <div class="center"><br><br><b>BOSTON:<br> PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR<br>1861.</b></div> + <hr> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps">Contents.</h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> I. Childhood </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> II. The New Master And Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> V. The Trials Of Girlhood. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VI. The Jealous Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VII. The Lover. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The + North. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XI. The New Tie To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XII. Fear Of Insurrection. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIII. The Church And Slavery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIV. Another Link To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XV. Continued Persecutions. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVII. The Flight. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XVIII. Months Of Peril. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XIX. The Children Sold. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XX. New Perils. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXII. Christmas Festivities. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIII. Still In Prison. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXV. Competition In Cunning. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVII. New Destination For The Children. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXIX. Preparations For Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXX. Northward Bound. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIII. A Home Found. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVII. A Visit To England </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XXXIX. The Confession. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLI. Free At Last. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps"> + Preface by the Author + </h2> + <p> + Reader, be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my + adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. + I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, + my descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of + places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on + my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to + pursue this course. + </p> + <p> + I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my + readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was + born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven + years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to + work diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This + has not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early + opportunities to improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these + pages at irregular intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from + household duties. + </p> + <p> + When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a + sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an + undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I + still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what + might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in + order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been + more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I + care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire + to arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of + two millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I + suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that + of abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery + really is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and + foul is that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this + imperfect effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + </p> + <div class="smallcaps right">Linda Brent.</div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps"> + Introduction by the Editor + </h2> + <p> + The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and + her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last + seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a + distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be + highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further + credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be + disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are + more romantic than fiction. + </p> + <p> + At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have + made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly + arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the + import of her very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the + ideas and the language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but + otherwise I had no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of + telling her own story. The names of both persons and places are known to + me; but for good reasons I suppress them. + </p> + <p> + It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be + able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first + place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, + with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate + friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in + favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent + intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her + welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + </p> + <p> + I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these + pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and + much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, + and others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been + kept veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous + features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with + the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who + are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to + them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women + at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence + on the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the + hope that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before + God that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery + shall ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and + cruelty. + </p> + <div class="smallcaps right">L. Maria Child.</div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='ph1'>INCIDENTS<br> + <span class='ph2'>IN THE</span><br> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL,<br> + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED.</div> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + I. Childhood + </h2> + <p> + I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood + had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent + and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were + to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On + condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and + supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his + own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though + he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never + succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, + and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, + though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I + was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable + to be demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was + two years younger than myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had + also a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable + woman in many respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South + Carolina, who, at his death, left her mother and his three children free, + with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during + the Revolutionary War; and they were captured on their passage, carried + back, and sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother + used to tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a + little girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. + I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as + she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that + her master and mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to + take care of such a valuable piece of property. She became an + indispensable personage in the household, officiating in all capacities, + from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her + cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that + many people were desirous of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous + requests of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress to bake + crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained + leave to do it, provided she would clothe herself and her children from + the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her + mistress, she began her midnight bakings, assisted by her two oldest + children. The business proved profitable; and each year she laid by a + little, which was saved for a fund to purchase her children. Her master + died, and the property was divided among his heirs. The widow had her + dower in the hotel, which she continued to keep open. My grandmother + remained in her service as a slave; but her children were divided among + her master’s children. As she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was + sold, in order that each heir might have an equal portion of dollars and + cents. There was so little difference in our ages that he seemed more like + my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for + he inherited the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon + ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars + were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother; but she + was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting + in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up three + hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to + pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or writing given + to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern laws, a slave, + <i>being</i> property, can <i>hold</i> no property. When my grandmother + lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to her honor. + The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + </p> + <p> + To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother + Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and + preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were + indebted to her for many more important services. + </p> + <p> + Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. + When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I + learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother’s mistress + was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She was the foster sister of + my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother’s breast. In + fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the + mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; + and, when they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her + whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she + kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a + slave merely in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for + her, and my young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take + care of me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be + with her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable + duties were imposed upon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always + glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young + years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, + with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When + she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I + bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were + happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the + morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human + being born to be a chattel. + </p> + <p> + When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As + I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I + prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been + almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and + they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears + fell upon her grave. + </p> + <p> + I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to + begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they + would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind + as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, + and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having + some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it + would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my + mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory + of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the + auction block. + </p> + <p> + After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we + learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of + five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the + precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” + “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto + them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her + neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great + wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy + days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of + injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for + this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her + memory. + </p> + <p> + She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed + among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had + shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding + my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her + children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no + more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the + horses they tend. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + II. The New Master And Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my + mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not + without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my + unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the + same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of + transacting business as a skilful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a + freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and + being brought up under such influences, he early detested the name of + master and mistress. One day, when his father and his mistress both + happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated between the two; being + perplexed to know which had the strongest claim upon his obedience. He + finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my father reproved him for + it, he said, “You both called me, and I didn’t know which I ought to go to + first.” + </p> + <p> + “You are <i>my</i> child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you + should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a + master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found + an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + </p> + <p> + When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and + cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I + moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + </p> + <p> + I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was + buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her + only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I + still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, “Come + with me, Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. + She led me apart from the people, and then said, “My child, your father is + dead.” Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not + even heard that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart + rebelled against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and + friend. The good grandmother tried to comfort me. “Who knows the ways of + God?” said she. “Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to + come.” Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a + mother to her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; + and strengthened by her love, I returned to my master’s. I thought I + should be allowed to go to my father’s house the next morning; but I was + ordered to go for flowers, that my mistress’s house might be decorated for + an evening party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into + festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. + What cared my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. + Moreover, they thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to + feel that they were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a + slave to teach; presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + </p> + <p> + The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my + dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected + his memory. + </p> + <p> + My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little + slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about + the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried + to comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come + by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have to + stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + </p> + <p> + I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we + might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could + earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to + say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to <i>buy</i> his freedom. We + held daily controversies upon this subject. + </p> + <p> + Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. If + they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave + myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my + grandmother’s house, where there was always something to spare for me. I + was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my + grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something + for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to <i>her</i> for all my + comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was <i>her</i> labor that supplied my + scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress + given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the + badges of slavery. + </p> + <p> + While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard + earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never + repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed + executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate + was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, + prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which had been + purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the + family, from generation to generation. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she + should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the + promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old + servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be + sold. + </p> + <p> + On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, + proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, &c.” + Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her + feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose + of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she + understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very + spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress + intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. + She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and + preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was called, was generally + known, and every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good + character. Her long and faithful service in the family was also well + known, and the intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day + of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call + she sprang upon the auction-block. Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! + Who is going to sell <i>you</i>, aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is + no place for <i>you</i>.” Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her + fate. No one bid for her. At last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” + It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my + grandmother’s deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same + roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her + owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights; and she + resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her + wishes were respected; no one bid above her. She could neither read nor + write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. + But what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with + human kindness? She gave the old servant her freedom. + </p> + <p> + At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had + passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had + defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One + of my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. + She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both + housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the + beginning and end of every thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She + had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were + so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, + till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of + the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did not seem to put her in + a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on + that particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait + till it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had + been used for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children + from eking out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other + scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to + give them. Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times + a day. I can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from + her flour barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, + and exactly what size they ought to be. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table + without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his + liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat + every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not + have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram + it down her throat till she choked. + </p> + <p> + They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered + to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was + held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a + few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been + well cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent + for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman’s + stomach was stronger than the dog’s; but her sufferings afterwards proved + that he was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her + master and mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing + baby, for a whole day and night. + </p> + <p> + When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves + was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he + arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied + up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that + situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never + forget that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows + fall, in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his “O, + pray don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many + conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master + accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with + his wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being + the father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet + with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and + continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint + handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value + into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of + sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader’s hands, + she said, “You <i>promised</i> to treat me well.” To which he replied, + “You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had forgotten that + it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + </p> + <p> + From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once + saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. + In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” Her mistress stood + by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You suffer, do you?” she + exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor + child will soon be in heaven, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like of + her and her bastard.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, + feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, + mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + </p> + <p> + Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt + unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still + on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had + but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked + God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty + slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + </p> + <p> + Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the + slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until + the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters + give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until + Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they + are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may + think proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and they gather together their + little alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait + anxiously for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are + thronged with men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear + their doom pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, + or cruel master, within forty miles of him. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves + well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me + this year. I will work <i>very</i> hard, massa.” + </p> + <p> + If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or + locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away + during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it + justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! + The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs + are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + </p> + <p> + If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, + without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. + After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + </p> + <p> + O, you happy free women, contrast <i>your</i> New Year’s day with that of + the poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of + the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are + showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at + this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you a happy + New Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy + lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can + take them from you. + </p> + <p> + But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. + She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be + torn from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they + might die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded + by the system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a + mother’s instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother’s agonies. + </p> + <p> + On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the + auction-block. She knew that <i>some</i> of them would be taken from her; + but they took <i>all</i>. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and + their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her + children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he + intended to take them; this he refused to do. How <i>could</i> he, when he + knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the highest + price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard face lives + to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, “Gone! + All gone! Why <i>don’t</i> God kill me?” I had no words wherewith to + comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of hourly + occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid + of <i>old</i> slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I + knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She + had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved + to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who + would give twenty dollars for her. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + </h2> + <p> + Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those years + had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they + had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan + grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now + mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. + She would have been happy could her children have shared them with her. + There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most + earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that + He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed + hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her + children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We + reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated + as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet + balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always + met us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She + spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. + There was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things + for the town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our + hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully + made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother + William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master + that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He + came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. + It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing + here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose + restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom + to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that + scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad + I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and + swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + </p> + <p> + When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in + <i>every</i> thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and + should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + </p> + <p> + So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither + saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded + close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look so sad? I love + you. O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and + unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did.” + </p> + <p> + I told him that every body was <i>not</i> cross, or unhappy; that those + who had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love + them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or + mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would + bring us contentment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all the + time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s difficulty + with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas + had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas + said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; + but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting + the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in + that likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the + skirmish none the worse for a few scratches. + </p> + <p> + He continued to discourse, on his young master’s <i>meanness</i>; how he + whipped the <i>little</i> boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle + ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he + always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. + One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for + quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was + often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to + do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong to deceive + the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the impositions + practised by his young master. I assured him the old man would not be slow + to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would end. William thought + it might with the old man, but not with <i>him</i>. He said he did not + mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the <i>idea</i> of being + whipped. + </p> + <p> + While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the + beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that + urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother’s God-given + nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, + seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, + of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God’s + most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + </p> + <p> + If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in + Benjamin’s heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of a + girl’s first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render + me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the + petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + </p> + <p> + I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. + My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. + I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still + continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, their creaking + grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what + I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new + shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you put them on again, I’ll + throw them into the fire.” + </p> + <p> + I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, + on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night + I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me + sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + </p> + <p> + I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress + would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the little imp,” as + she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such + extravagant imaginings. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, + “She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no + right to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, + and I could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned + my affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me; and + his wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant + doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her + mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must + be the latter. I said to myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. + My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I + was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, + that she believed I was telling a lie. + </p> + <p> + I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny + paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing + thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, brother,” said + I, “what is the matter this time?” + </p> + <p> + “O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, + Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not + immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began + to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master + was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground + his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the + result. + </p> + <p> + That night I stole to my grandmother’s house, and Benjamin also stole + thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two + with an old friend living in the country. + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + I inquired where. + </p> + <p> + “To the north,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his + firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my + words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more + galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly + whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he + must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought + back; and that was terrible to think of. + </p> + <p> + He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not + preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we are + dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will not + stay. Let them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + </p> + <p> + He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break + your mother’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + I repented of my words ere they were out. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, “how + <i>could</i> you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, + too, cousin Fanny.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + </p> + <p> + Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so + many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he + was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The + captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who + was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His + embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the + advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its + description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. + The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that + port Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He + escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to + his master. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, + great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, “God’s + will be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from + her boy. Yes, news <i>was</i> heard. The master was rejoicing over a + letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + </p> + <p> + That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led + through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet + full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his + mother’s house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her + distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and + she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her + child had said. + </p> + <p> + We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, + and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my + grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not + a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” whispered my + grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. There was a jingle + of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through + the bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin’s cold hands in + ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin’s lips were + unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory + bring back that sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her + pardon for the suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to + forgive; she could not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when + he was captured, he broke away, and was about casting himself into the + river, when thoughts of <i>her</i> came over him, and he desisted. She + asked if he did not also think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow + fierce in the moonlight. He answered, “No, I did not think of him. When a + man is hunted like a wild beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He + forgets every thing in his struggle to get beyond the reach of the + bloodhounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, my + child, and your master will forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me for <i>what</i>, mother? For not letting him treat me like a + dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for + nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I + will stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he + next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t + worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every + thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I + could.” + </p> + <p> + She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when + sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned + to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do + likewise. + </p> + <p> + We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to + intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin + should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in + jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. + However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, + and we were allowed to visit him. + </p> + <p> + As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible + a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + </p> + <p> + Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a + purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum + was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He + was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered + with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered + with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of + them. He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that + they should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was + covered with vermin. + </p> + <p> + This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our + visits. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old + ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still + begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion + nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, “I am + waiting his time.” + </p> + <p> + Those chains were mournful to hear. + </p> + <p> + Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that + loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave trader had + bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years + of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred + dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement + had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had + heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable + for a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a + girl. We thanked God that he was not. + </p> + <p> + Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened + the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, + and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly + pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you + would exclaim, <i>Slavery is damnable</i>! + </p> + <p> + Benjamin, her youngest, her + pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview + with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be + purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to + sell him till he was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell + him till he reached New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of + love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still + be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she + labored. The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was not + discouraged. + </p> + <p> + She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New + Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly + favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he + thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the + trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and + had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for + freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was + riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + </p> + <p> + For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion + that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed + out to the letter, and the <i>thing</i> rendered back to slavery. The + brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was + taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength + was slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to + retard his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? + He resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he + thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a + voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing <i>here</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not + stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his + old master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; + but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly + number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose + ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave + you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. + You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing + for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, + for there are several gentlemen here from our town.” He described the + nearest and safest route to New York, and added, “I shall be glad to tell + your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + </p> + <p> + Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town + he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. + On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the + service he had rendered him. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had + gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my + grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business + for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. You may be + sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, “I am here at + last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free + land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. + He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the + old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but + something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. + He had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven + for self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not + desire a continuation of the same in another world. “If I die now,” he + exclaimed, “thank God, I shall die a freeman!” + </p> + <p> + He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with + him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it + would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged + her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be + bought? + </p> + <p> + “No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out + of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I + would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay + all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know + she will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good + mother! Tell her to buy <i>you</i>, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, + and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what’ll become of her? + Phil, you don’t know what a life they lead her. She has told me something + about it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in + jail, he asked her if she didn’t want <i>him</i> to ask my master to + forgive me, and take me home again. She told him, No; that I didn’t want + to go back. He got mad, and said we were all alike. I never despised my + own master half as much as I do that man. There is many a worse + slaveholder than my master; but for all that I would not be his slave.” + </p> + <p> + While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay + necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in + his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I + thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + </p> + <p> + His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + </p> + <p> + They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, + “Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard from + him again. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered + the house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She + stood looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe + it?” he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her + hands, and exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped on + her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit + down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only + he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he + distress her when she could do him no good? + </p> + <p> + The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other + children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight + hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his + freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that + night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove + to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long + taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, “He that is <i>willing</i> + to be a slave, let him be a slave.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + </h2> + <p> + During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was + accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. + Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and + tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I + now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave + girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I + could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with + indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, and the fear + that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this + treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means + to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that + made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he + thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, + although they left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure + principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with + unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from + him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live + under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior + daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was + his property; that I must be subject to his will in all things. My soul + revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? + No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her + mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from + insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by + fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the + helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy + and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of + slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would + willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are + told you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, + you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would + refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work + which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at the + south. + </p> + <p> + Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in + slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the + little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, + will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress + hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child’s own mother + is among those hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous + passion, and cannot help understanding what is the cause. She will become + prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when + she hears her master’s footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she + is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove + her greatest curse. That which commands admiration in the white woman only + hastens the degradation of the female slave. I know that some are too much + brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of their position; but many + slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot + tell how much I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am + still pained by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding + me that I belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would + compel me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after + a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my + mother’s grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart + which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other + slaves in my master’s house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; + but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew + too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that to + speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + </p> + <p> + I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have + laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all my + troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as + the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared + her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a + respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about + telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict + on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was + usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once + roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once + chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one of + her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; and both + pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide in my + grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, her + presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she had + been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching + rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he did + not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me that I did + not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that the + inhabitants were ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the laws and + customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, + deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + </p> + <p> + O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it + is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what + I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your + hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once + suffered. + </p> + <p> + I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white + child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them + embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away + from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on + the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to + sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood + to womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a + sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose + on her happy bridal morning. + </p> + <p> + How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of + her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine + of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, + whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + </p> + <p> + In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the + north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that + I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There + are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who + cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage + to go on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the + cause of humanity! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the + half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the + slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton + plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an + unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a + penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his + ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is + not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to + wish to be virtuous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was born. + She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and + the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were + the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her + husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to + evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested + in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb + asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and + many were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day + he caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well + pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an + accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, + notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I + can’t read them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to + you.” He always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” + Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his + supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself + there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away + the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These + intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly + throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited + my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had + exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his + patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me + at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When + there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to + address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he + would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. + Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be + forbearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In + desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for + protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made + any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally + of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out + of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that + some threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + </p> + <p> + I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent + that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently + passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and + he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was + never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her + to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity + for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never + wronged her, or wished to wrong her; and one word of kindness from her + would have brought me to her feet. + </p> + <p> + After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his + intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in + his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same + room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, + and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing + to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, + I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often + held to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I + slept by the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent + to come into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family + many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed + it necessary to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove + the obstacle in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so + that he should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my + refuge by the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of + it. The first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The + next morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following + night. A kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint + heard of this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it + rage. + </p> + <p> + After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first + question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “My master.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I + have accused you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this + holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. “If + you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me + directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master + and you.” + </p> + <p> + I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed + frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, + that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon + convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt + that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had + no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. She pitied + herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of + shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. + </p> + <p> + Yet perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was + ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been + much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but + my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very + refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object + of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not + expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I + was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women + would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from + small sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was + obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + </p> + <p> + I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it + afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she + rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room + adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not + of her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch + over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending over me. At other + times she whispered in my ear, as though it was her husband who was + speaking to me, and listened to hear what I would answer. If she startled + me, on such occasions, she would glide stealthily away; and the next + morning she would tell me I had been talking in my sleep, and ask who I + was talking to. At last, I began to be fearful for my life. It had been + often threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an + unpleasant sensation it must produce to wake up in the dead of night and + find a jealous woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I + had fears that it would give place to one more terrible. + </p> + <p> + My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She + changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of + crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. + To my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe it; but if she did + acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me.” Tortured into exposing + him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his + soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was + to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; + that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She + was a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the + hoary-headed miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and + better woman. She was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She + would gladly have had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I + have already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old + sinner was politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks + that would have exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. + How often did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants + knew each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the + multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + </p> + <p> + The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My + master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the + mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other + slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, + indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. + She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the + never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not belong to <i>me</i>. + She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal right to sell her.” The + conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to <i>sell</i> me; but he had no + scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the + helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter’s + property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be + sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a + life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured + individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into + the house, and make you the companion of my own children?” he would say. + “Have I ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to + be punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense + I get, you ungrateful girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for + screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my + mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! + Don’t cry! don’t cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only + let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know + what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of + you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you.” + </p> + <p> + I did think of it. + </p> + <p> + Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you + the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from this wild beast of + Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the + poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s bones, and all + uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give + their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic + notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year + round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The + young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her + happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of + complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they + are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the + flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + </p> + <p> + Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many + little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such + children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it + is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into + the slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of + their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + </p> + <p> + I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free + those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and their + request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness + of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that + which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered + their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence + took the place of distrust. + </p> + <p> + Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, + to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern + ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the + father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself + their master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any + decent society!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VII. The Lover. + </h2> + <p> + Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine + around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of + violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can + bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!” But + when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery + he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a + young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved, and I indulged the hope that the + dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the + land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind;</div> + <div class="i1">Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind.</div> + <div class="i1">Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows,</div> + <div class="i1">And each is tortured in his separate hell.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born man. + We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together + afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I + loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first love. But when I + reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the + marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but + I knew that Dr. Flint was too wilful and arbitrary a man to consent to + that arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sorts of + opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have + been delighted to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have + relieved her mind of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some + distant state, but if I was married near home I should be just as much in + her husband’s power as I had previously been,—for the husband of a + slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, my mistress, like many + others, seemed to think that slaves had no right to any family ties of + their own; that they were created merely to wait upon the family of the + mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave girl, who told her that a + colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I will have you peeled and + pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear you mention that subject + again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending <i>my</i> children with + the children of that nigger?” The girl to whom she said this had a mulatto + child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The poor black man who + loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his helpless offspring. + </p> + <p> + Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss + what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults + that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother + about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the + worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her + suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all + my hopes. + </p> + <p> + This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not + bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in + the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who often visited + the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a + friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great + influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I + told her I was aware that my lover’s being a free-born man would prove a + great objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent + to that arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable + price. She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to + suggest that perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that + would rid her of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised + to do her utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the + doctor, and I believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no + purpose. + </p> + <p> + How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his + presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next + morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in his study.” I + found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who + claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear + calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked + fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, “I have half a mind + to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the silence, and that was a + relief to both of us. + </p> + <p> + “So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger + fellow you honor so highly. If you <i>must</i> have a husband, you may + take up with one of my slaves.” + </p> + <p> + What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of <i>his</i> slaves, + even if my heart had been interested! + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference + about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight + pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt + above the insults of such puppies.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “If he is a puppy I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro + race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you + call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did + not believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the + first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my + anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, “You + have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be + my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I + had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you know what + you have said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I + can kill you, if I please?” + </p> + <p> + “You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to + do as you like with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you + forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to + your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne + from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How + would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me to + it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me + there than there is here.” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, that + you would forget the meaning of the word <i>peace</i>. It would do you + good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not + ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my + kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have + wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with the basest + ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable of appreciating + my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one + more chance to redeem your character. If you behave yourself and do as I + require, I will forgive you and treat you as I always have done; but if + you disobey me, I will punish you as I would the meanest slave on my + plantation. Never let me hear that fellow’s name mentioned again. If I + ever know of your speaking to him, I will cowhide you both; and if I catch + him lurking about my premises, I will shoot him as soon as I would a dog. + Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach you a lesson about marriage and free + niggers! Now go, and let this be the last time I have occasion to speak to + you on this subject.” + </p> + <p> + Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I + never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of hell;” and I + believe it is so. + </p> + <p> + For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; + to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable + addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base + proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his + eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly + than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to + make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange + letters with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I + was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the + house, he contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better + read it, and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It + expressed regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I + myself was wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the + injury I was doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he + had made up his mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several + slaves with him, and intended I should be one of the number. My mistress + would remain where she was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from + that quarter. If I merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would + be lavishly bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer + the following day. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I + laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my + answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young + mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to + stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his + letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I am your + daughter’s property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, + wherever you please.” He said he was very glad to find me so willing to + go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice + in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the story merely to + frighten me. However that might be, I was determined that I would never go + to Louisiana with him. + </p> + <p> + Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was + sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That + news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with + <i>him</i>. That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, + was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; + and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me + into the fields to work. Is it strange that I was not proud of these + protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect + than I had for a bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I + heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the + corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my + master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I + was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. “When + is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths + and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free + man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the + street! + </p> + <p> + Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no + hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron + will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an + intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission + to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to + protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the + insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I + knew they must “follow the condition of the mother.” What a terrible + blight that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For <i>his</i> + sake, I felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy + destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about a little property left him + by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly + entreated him not to come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, + where his tongue would not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of + more avail to him. He left me, still hoping the day would come when I + could be bought. With me the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my + girlhood was over. I felt lonely and desolate. + </p> + <p> + Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my + affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into + my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I + still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by + the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden + freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he + would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we + could get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier + said than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no + means of getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she + was strongly opposed to her children’s undertaking any such project. She + had not forgotten poor Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if + another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To + me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, + “William <i>must</i> be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow + him.” Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + </h2> + <p> + Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to + hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small + respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I + cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they + tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be + in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had + seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to + take her back to her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; + that many days she had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times + could get nothing at all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew + her master would not thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his + house. He ended by saying to me, “This is the punishment she brought on + herself for running away from a kind master.” + </p> + <p> + This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New + York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of + such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe + such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such + a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom + could make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and + children. If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as + some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is + more valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own + capabilities, and exert themselves to become men and women. + </p> + <p> + But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into + slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who + strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; + but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general + mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by + favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to <i>utter</i> such + sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of them! + </p> + <p> + Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will + sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and + daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior + order of beings? What would <i>you</i> be, if you had been born and + brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that + the black man <i>is</i> inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is + the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing + whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the + South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who + enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. <i>They</i> do the work. + </p> + <p> + Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the + Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for + them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are + employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud + to do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and + Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance + with their “peculiar institution.” Nor is it enough to be silent. The + masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of + subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they + respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise “a + northern man with southern principles;” and that is the class they + generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very + apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their + neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are + proverbially the hardest masters. + </p> + <p> + They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created + the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who + “made of one blood all nations of men!” And then who <i>are</i> Africans? + Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of + American slaves? + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad + opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are + aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most + ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; + and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about + white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom + for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, + and that it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law + from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it + over. She said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to + the queen of ’Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn’t believe + it, and went to Washington city to see the president about it. They + quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her + to make them all free. + </p> + <p> + That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to + whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate + to Queen Justice. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + </h2> + <p> + There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. + Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six + hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive + plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a + whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated + there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his + great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for + murder. + </p> + <p> + Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope + round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled + over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, + the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own + plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. + But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit + managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of + theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who + assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no + inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor’s back turned, than the + accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave + stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection + followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form + was attenuated by hunger and suffering. + </p> + <p> + A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the + plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of + wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. + They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled + them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was + a dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + </p> + <p> + Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after + nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + </p> + <p> + His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His + bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the + slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if they tracked him, they + literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his + shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. + His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money with me.” + </p> + <p> + After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars + were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a + rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his + grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was + found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was + again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were + never discovered. + </p> + <p> + Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor + of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of + intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of + his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front + of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly + cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A + member of the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he + might be taken down; but the master would not relent. He remained there + three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. + Another slave, who stole a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, + was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end + of two miles, he was so faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. + He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he + crept back that long distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his + master’s, it was night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He + moaned, and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same + family. At last his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate + man at the gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men + returned with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The + back of his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend + loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and + left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When + his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his + hunger. This was his crime. + </p> + <p> + Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there + cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and + did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place + of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old + slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s house. ’Pears I can + never get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + </p> + <p> + The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her + husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A + slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, + watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay + her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and + dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is got you + <i>now</i>!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun + to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy did strike + ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The master was + startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the + room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. + She confessed that what the child had said was true, and told how she had + procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + </p> + <p> + In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as + all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. + Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became + involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted + for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the + treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further + infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the + woods. He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half + naked, half starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to + his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on + bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor + slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have + whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of + the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched + creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with + strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal + sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which + was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could + not lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread + and bowl of water, which were placed within reach of the poor fellow. The + slave was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to + him. + </p> + <p> + Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On + the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When + he had been in the press four days and five nights, the slave informed his + master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that + a horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine + into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly + eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had + gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often + asked each other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she + should ever hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and + knew that James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the + qualities that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put + him into a rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have + been manifested for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a + slave; and the feeling was that the master had a right to do what he + pleased with his own property. And what did <i>he</i> care for the value + of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily + toil, they must hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to + extinguish their pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went + his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives + had gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall + asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn + called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, unless + they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on a par with + animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, who had run away + and been brought back to him. No one called him to account for it. If a + slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon + him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was + highly educated, and styled a perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name + and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower. + </p> + <p> + I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They + are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane + slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening + influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few and + far between.” + </p> + <p> + I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an + orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father + was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and + children living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their + mistress during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which + was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some + reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and + wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. <i>Her</i> religion + was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned + again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was promised in marriage to + a free man; and the day before the wedding this good mistress emancipated + her, in order that her marriage might have the sanction of <i>law</i>. + </p> + <p> + Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a + man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich + uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a + colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The + metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became + his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her + marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to + insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that + she had always been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any + where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their + comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a + happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, + they were convinced of its reality. + </p> + <p> + When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became + furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for + you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I + have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain + it for your children.” The unhappy father swore that nobody should take + his children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but + they were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two + oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service + to her master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were + carried to their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother, and, + when the slaveholder’s wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She + knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully + inculcated. She had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and + his offspring to his brother. She bore two children to the brother, and was + sold again. The next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead + drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before + the birth of the fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered + every kindness to the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. + She passed away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had + been made so wretched by the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve + his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of + drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good + master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and + the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. + Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife + a happier woman. + </p> + <p> + No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption + produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of + licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his + sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his + sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with + presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or + starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious + principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good + mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are + dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be + exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i20">“The poor worm</div> + <div class="i1">Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day</div> + <div class="i1">Shall pass, and she is gone!”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the + unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s daughters + always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs + he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear + their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is + excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young + slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as + should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the + women slaves are subject to their father’s authority in all things; and in + some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have + myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in + shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected + one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first + grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her + father’s more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over + whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her + father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending + black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had + given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + </p> + <p> + In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by + any who know its history. But if the white parent is the <i>father</i>, + instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the + market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be + their inevitable destiny. + </p> + <p> + You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was + twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own + experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well + as to the blacks. It makes the white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons + violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives + wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to + describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their + degradation. + </p> + <p> + Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin + occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton crops—not + of the blight on their children’s souls. + </p> + <p> + If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a + southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be + no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you + impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to + have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the + blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for + me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I + was constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a + home of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my + dreaded fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already + had high words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly + what she thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in + the neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of + Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to + build a house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and + expense, I was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; + but I soon heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my + Maker that I would never enter it. I had rather toil on the plantation + from dawn till dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from + day to day, through such a living death. I was determined that the master, + whom I so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, + and made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, + succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any + thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What <i>could</i> I do? + I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the + abyss. + </p> + <p> + And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would + gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. + It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, + and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to + screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not + so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master + had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy + the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of + my childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that + they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, + concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it + with deliberate calculation. + </p> + <p> + But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, + who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes + are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too + severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the + man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I + should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about + to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to + keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard + to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful + grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I + felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be + frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + </p> + <p> + I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy had + given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced + that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the + circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often + spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked + questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great + deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities + to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only + fifteen years old. + </p> + <p> + So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for + human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, + and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have + such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He + was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor + slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was + tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of + interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is + agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation + has left her any pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one’s + self, than to submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in + having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by + kindness and attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, + and you dare not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an + unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be + sophistry in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all + principles of morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them + impossible. + </p> + <p> + When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely + cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and + calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere + gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as + to know that I favored another; and it was something to triumph over my + tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by + selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a + man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my + freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came + so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of + children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a + new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them; + especially if they had children. I had seen several women sold, with + his babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain + long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I + could ask to have my children well supported; and in this case, I felt + confident I should obtain the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would + be made free. With all these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no + other way of escaping the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong + plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it + is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the + laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the + will of another. You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the + snares, and eluding the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at + the sound of his footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I + know I did wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful + and humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking + back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman ought + not to be judged by the same standard as others. + </p> + <p> + The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over + the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me + from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that + it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most + of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of + her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + </p> + <p> + As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the + thought of telling <i>him</i>. From time to time he told me of his + intended arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the + cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would + never enter it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You + shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + </p> + <p> + He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a + word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the + truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble + as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how + could I look them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved + that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, “Let the storm + beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, how humiliated I felt! + </p> + <p> + I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words + stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and + began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. + The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for + her children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily + expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a + sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this + well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. + Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me + concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been + previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O Linda! has + it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. + You are a disgrace to your dead mother.” She tore from my fingers my + mother’s wedding ring and her silver thimble. “Go away!” she exclaimed, + “and never come to my house, again.” Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, + that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes + never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from my seat, but fell + back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but the tears were running + down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me like fire. She had always + been so kind to me! <i>So</i> kind! How I longed to throw myself at her + feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had ordered me to go, and never + to come there again. After a few minutes, I mustered strength, and started + to obey her. With what feelings did I now close that little gate, which I + used to open with such an eager hand in my childhood! It closed upon me + with a sound I never heard before. + </p> + <p> + Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on + recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I + had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on + the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above + me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed + by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over + me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to + die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused + myself, and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had + been a friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke + soothingly to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my + shame if I could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my + heart to her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and + all I had been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. + My friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing + suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came + at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my + life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in + an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I + told her I would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes + of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead + mother’s sake. And she did pity me. She did not say, “I forgive you;” but + she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old + hand gently on my head, and murmured, “Poor child! Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XI. The New Tie To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with Mr. + Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe lamb,—whether + there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about character,—he + made no answer; but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to + care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made + the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how + I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He + intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could + have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he + have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the + cause of my sin! + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for + you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the + fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, + you shall feel the fires of hell.” + </p> + <p> + I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was + gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his + abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had + always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for <i>him</i> I + might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. “I + have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against you.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, with + ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could grind + your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless + rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who + don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. + You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master + was your best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have + punished you in many ways. I might have had you whipped till you fell dead under + the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. + Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your + conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here + for the present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. + After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and + who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; + that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have + explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most + shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. “I + command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your child is + white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I + did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he + would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a hissing tone. + </p> + <p> + “I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what + arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he + spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; but + your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good + intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from killing + you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + </p> + <p> + But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. + You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of + your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from + him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this + at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act + of mercy I shall show towards you.” + </p> + <p> + I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man + who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to + my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last + time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward course. + Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. + I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + </p> + <p> + Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had + calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew + the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + </p> + <p> + About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The + day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. + My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray + it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My + heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives + that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us + know what a year may bring forth. + </p> + <p> + I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, + though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last + consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had + done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! + The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps your mother + and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart + could now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives + ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate + of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had + experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I + should escape? + </p> + <p> + My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in + mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was + unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I + would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, + they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered + the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He + had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four + pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive + till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, + unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to + leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was + scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was + sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued + his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that + my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + </p> + <p> + I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in + silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not + remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was made the + medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and + of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, + cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my + brother; and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not + seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I + dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but + I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William + with a note. The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; + and he said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I + told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his + master’s will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He + demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He + flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon + his usual themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his + forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I + felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such + language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless + to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. + This manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do + nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so + early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity + to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a + trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly + incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there to + reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence + of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his + office work; but every thing went wrong without William. He was released, + and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not + careful about his future behavior. + </p> + <p> + As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year + old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my + existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and + pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I + loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over + my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished + that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. + The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold + that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, + but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was + heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her + dying child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought + that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated + him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that + he should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had + bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a + new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the + serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + </h2> + <p> + Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the news + threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, + when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + </p> + <p> + It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion + every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called + country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their + places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without + hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were + told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. + Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed + of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. + Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. + All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + </p> + <p> + By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles + of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it + would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing + annoyed them so much as to see colored people living in comfort and + respectability; so I made arrangements for them with especial care. I + arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as neatly as possible. I + put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with + flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at the window to watch. Far as + my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and + fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies + of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild + scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found. + </p> + <p> + It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their + own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief + authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting + that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves + in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed + such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on + innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the + slightest ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in + remote parts of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the + searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent + other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were + plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped + till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred + lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking + paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored + people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white + person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else + the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling + wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the + helpless. At night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went + wherever they chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal + will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their + way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were + tied up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies + about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had + the slightest tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking + together. + </p> + <p> + I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in + the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive + the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp + of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in + they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing + within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a + thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver + change was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from + them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, “What d’ye foller us + fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come to steal?” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I + will take it, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I + called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till + the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house + brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the + outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This + officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the + account of neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He + felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, + if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant + followers, who were unable to read. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that + was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, + “Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, said, + “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from <i>your</i> houses.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you seem + to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White folks + oughter have ’em all.” + </p> + <p> + His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got + ’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + </p> + <p> + There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, + proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my + things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their + contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. + I told him it was one of my friends. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I + told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. + “Bring me all your letters!” said he, in a commanding tone. I told him I had + none. “Don’t be afraid,” he continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them + all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey + him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? + half free niggers?” inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are + from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and + some I destroy without reading.” + </p> + <p> + An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our + conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet + had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving + fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; + consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained + these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was + helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, + “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when + dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take + the jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats.” + </p> + <p> + “And what <i>were</i> we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. + I evaded the question. + </p> + <p> + The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. + They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, + with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a + short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of + the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the + house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its + inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very + fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by + drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually + rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window + curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white + man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not + stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored + minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his + wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to + shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized + country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the + administrators of justice! + </p> + <p> + The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the + innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by + keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white + citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless + rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, + drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + </p> + <p> + The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people + that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed + with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw + horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled + by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail + yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with + brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not + fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the + conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even + heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a + story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + </p> + <p> + The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was + substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or + free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture + of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their + masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. + Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the + privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their + burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had + no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour + out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the + church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a + certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, + when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction + had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored + friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in + commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, + and all ye are brethren.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + </h2> + <p> + After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the + slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the + slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their + masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on + Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also + very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight with him. + The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The + Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their + carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. + It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free + colored man, who was a member. + </p> + <p> + I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, + trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by + daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to + encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his + office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. + When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The + reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all + present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the + portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + </p> + <p> + His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters + according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your + heart, as unto Christ.” + </p> + <p> + Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, + solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my + words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner + of evil. ’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will + surely punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You that live in + town are eye-servants behind your master’s back. Instead of serving your + masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly + Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. + God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden + away somewhere, feasting on your master’s substance; tossing + coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with + another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, but God sees you, and + will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! When your master’s work + is done, are you quietly together, thinking of the goodness of God to such + sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of + roots to bury under the door-steps to poison each other with. God sees you. + You men steal away to every grog shop to sell your master’s corn, that you + may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or + among the bushes, to pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you + out, God sees you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful + ways, and be faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your + old mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, + you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When + you go from here, don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go + directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have come.” + </p> + <p> + The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother + Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the + next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last + discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found + it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should be glad + to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for + the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that + the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since + its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but + pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from + his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist + shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious + meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than + sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded + Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + </p> + <p> + The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not + trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following + verses: + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Old Satan is one busy ole man;</div> + <div class="i1">He rolls dem blocks all in my way;</div> + <div class="i1">But Jesus is my bosom friend;</div> + <div class="i1">He rolls dem blocks away.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“If I had died when I was young,</div> + <div class="i1">Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung;</div> + <div class="i1">But I am ole, and now I stand</div> + <div class="i1">A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I + went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved + mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the + town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his + brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or + out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for + fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and + said to the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t you tell us how the Lord deals + with your soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, + help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and + I am left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, she + continued, “I can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all my children. + Last week they took the last one. God only knows where they’ve sold her. + They let me have her sixteen years, and then— O! O! Pray for her + brothers and sisters! I’ve got nothing to live for now. God make my time + short!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader + become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his + handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman’s calamity + might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the + bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his + divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!” + </p> + <p> + The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as + the birds that warbled round us,— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim;</div> + <div class="i1">He missed my soul, and caught my sins.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“He took my sins upon his back;</div> + <div class="i1">Went muttering and grumbling down to hell.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan’s church is here below.</div> + <div class="i1">Up to God’s free church I hope to go.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at + such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing + and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, + under constant dread of the lash? + </p> + <p> + The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had + been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was + large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different + clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored + people, who said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved him, + and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the + slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. + His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her and + themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to the + needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty of having + a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their + comprehension. After much argument and importunity, it was finally agreed + that they might occupy the gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many + colored people, hitherto unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to + hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood + them. Moreover, it was the first time they had ever been addressed as + human beings. It was not long before his white parishioners began to be + dissatisfied. He was accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes + than he did to them. He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains + upon those sermons than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in + such ignorance that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their + comprehension. Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should + preach to them in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the + midst of these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her + slaves gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, “I have + tried to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it + has not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but + prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. May + we meet in a better world.” Her liberated slaves were sent away, with + funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless + the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death her husband + preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at his departure. + </p> + <p> + Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former + congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. “My + friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity + of speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do + something for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet + accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live + according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; + but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color of their skins.” This + was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to + slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made fools of their slaves, + and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + </p> + <p> + I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were + beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist + church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he + should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He + came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for + he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it + came. I asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and that + slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This + brought the tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle Fred,” said I. + “I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, + that you might know the danger, and be on your guard.” He thought he could + plan to come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a + quiet nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught + him his A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As + soon as he could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in + the Bible. The happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my + heart. After spelling out a few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it + ’pears when I can read dis good book I shall be nearer to God. White man + is got all de sense. He can larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man + like me. I only wants to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I + hab no fear ’bout dying.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. + “Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + </p> + <p> + I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness I imparted, were + more than a recompense for all my trouble. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could + find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, + “Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I + don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I reads. + And he <i>does</i> help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + </p> + <p> + There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the + water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They + send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am + glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask + them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American + slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell <i>them</i> it is + wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own + children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that all + men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light of + knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for + sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + </p> + <p> + There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; + but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would + be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been + before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. + Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to + them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the + prison and the scourge. + </p> + <p> + Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are + the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the + poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so <i>easily</i> + blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has + usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The + slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes + himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred + topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table + loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees + the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of + favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with these + slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, “O, no, + massa.” This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a + “South-Side View of Slavery,” and to complain of the exaggerations of + abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, and seen + slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful “patriarchal institution;” + that the slaves don’t want their freedom; that they have hallelujah + meetings, and other religious privileges. + </p> + <p> + What does <i>he</i> know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn + till dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, + torn from their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into + moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained + to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The + slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell + of them if he had asked them. + </p> + <p> + There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the + south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the + treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is + called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the + church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it + does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much + surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the + character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after + he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had + been confirmed, certainly gave <i>me</i> no indication that he had + “renounced the devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his usual + talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, Linda,” + said he. “It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my + position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned + slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda.” + </p> + <p> + “There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be + allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as + virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + </p> + <p> + His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about your + infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my negro, to + talk to me about what you would like, and what you wouldn’t like? I am your + master, and you shall obey me.” + </p> + <p> + No wonder the slaves sing,— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan’s church is here below;</div> + <div class="i1">Up to God’s free church I hope to go.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIV. Another Link To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. The + old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his + wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came + back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a + season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about + his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to + convince me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no + need of descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious + babe was the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent + contempt when he talked about my having forfeited <i>his</i> good opinion; + but I shed bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by + the good and pure. Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. + There was no chance for me to be respectable. There was no prospect of + being able to lead a better life. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he + called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps that + will humble you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Humble <i>me</i>! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated + my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders + have been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the + condition of the <i>mother</i>,” not of the <i>father</i>; thus taking + care that licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection + made me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid + visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall + into the slave trader’s hands. I wept over him, and said, “O my child! + perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw you + into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated + beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of + shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of + arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and + swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. + Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and + the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in + bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I swear by God I will never raise + my hand against you again;” but I knew that he would forget his promise. + </p> + <p> + After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the + pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can + describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too + revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s knowledge as much as + I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my + troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and + heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man’s tongue, she could + not always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should + try to defend me; but it only made matters worse. + </p> + <p> + When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than + it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more + terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, <i>they</i> + have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this + new crime against <i>him</i>, as he called it; and as long as he had me in + his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, + he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to + him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare + some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took + up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now stand there,” said + he, “till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a strong resemblance to + her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed + this; and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped + upon me and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the + grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his + vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He + took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my + face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness + before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he + hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but + I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There + was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I + was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to + life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived + only nineteen years. + </p> + <p> + Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. + Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I + dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted + at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we + resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away + from us. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having + the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not + venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a + patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. “Now is + the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the children to church, and + have them christened.” + </p> + <p> + When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I + felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without + any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal + rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to + <i>her</i>, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, + to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren were + presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother’s? + <i>Her</i> master had died when she was a child; and she remained with her + mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master; and + thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + </p> + <p> + When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father + stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I + added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for + my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled + skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified + me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + </p> + <p> + When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home + with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her for + this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be + fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly + I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s chain, whose + iron entereth into the soul! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XV. Continued Persecutions. + </h2> + <p> + My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an + exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of + these days.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into + his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them + given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children + could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. + Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my + friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to + leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with + nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. + “Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, + and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her + paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; + neither can he buy her children.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he + entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He + seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had + learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide + her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now + nearly five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad man come here + so many times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp the dear boy in my + arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the + problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child + left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. + “So you are left in disgust, are you?” said he. “It is no more than I + expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. + So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don’t like to hear + about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” There was a sting in his calling me + virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had + formerly done. He continued: “So it seems you are trying to get up another + intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you + may be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine + for life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I + would have done it; but you rejected my kind offer.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen + the man who offered to buy me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will you + say again that you never saw that man?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I do say so.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told + him to go to his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew nearer + to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was + too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the + room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” I + struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the + door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I + turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so + pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t know + whether I was very happy. + </p> + <p> + All the doctor’s former persecutions were + renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a + rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with + whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother + was out of the way he searched every room to find him. + </p> + <p> + In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold + to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her + because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter + life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near + ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. A few friends + had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to + spend with them the time that intervened between her sale and the + gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved + the trader the expense of board and jail fees, and though the amount was + small, it was a weighty consideration in a slave-trader’s mind. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. + He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she + took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His + gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. + “How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What right had you to allow it, + when you knew I had sold her?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. I + have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest + purposes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been + his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud voices, + and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to + let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook + to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher + and higher, and finally boiled over in words. “Get out of my house!” she + exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will + have enough to do, without watching my family.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of + sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by + compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the one to + blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and + more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” said she, “you + ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be saying your + prayers. It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your + soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + </p> + <p> + He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes + met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and + weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen + her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, + always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace + and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon + Slavery. + </p> + <p> + The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; + and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive + also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was + dreaming of freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I + planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of + overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + </p> + <p> + Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had + invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great + consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my + grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I + was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend’s house. + They sent me a dark wrapper; I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did + not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but + I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the + doctor came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did + not believe me, and sent to my friend’s house to ascertain the facts. He + came in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the + truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were + coming. “I suppose you need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised + at your being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for <i>you</i>. + Are you <i>allowed</i> to visit such people?” + </p> + <p> + I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; + but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any company they + keep is good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my + interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on + you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself + and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to + what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no + communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a + cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be + light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda—a + home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you + at times, your wilfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from + my own children, and I consider you as yet a child.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you speak?” + said he. “What more do you wait for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you accept my offer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and + replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there + are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will + be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you + and your children shall be sent to your young master’s plantation, there + to remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall + fare like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider + of it.” + </p> + <p> + He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready + to give my answer now. + </p> + <p> + “I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from impulse. + Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you + choose.” + </p> + <p> + On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my + master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be + impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he + gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. + The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But + then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect + was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare + me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, + and my weakness would be his triumph. + </p> + <p> + Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be + married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy + in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for + punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very + soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and + save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to + myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I + would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + </p> + <p> + On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise + choice. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” said + he. + </p> + <p> + I told him I had. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he replied. + “Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl + shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!” He + left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, + child, what did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was going to the plantation. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Must</i> you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + </p> + <p> + I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She + said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how + faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own + baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been + out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them + for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more strength for + the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in + saying, “He will listen to <i>me</i>, Linda.” She went, and was treated as + I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied her request. + He told her that what he did was for my good, that my feelings were + entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I would receive + treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight + my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for my + children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter + dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had + a determined will. There is might in each. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. My + boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old + wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to + be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the + time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what + purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far + as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short + as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow + him up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left + below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so + carefully tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the + yard. This was kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My + task was to fit up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst + of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as + busy planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed + to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to + a neighbor, “I’ve got her down here, and I’ll soon take the town notions + out of her head. My father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought + to have broke her in long ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and + it would have been quite as manly to have made it to my face. He <i>had</i> + said things to my face which might, or might not, have surprised his + neighbor if he had known of them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + </p> + <p> + I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, + so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness + before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it + would be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily + saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed + by the lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much + more must I suffer, before I should be “broke in” to that degree? + </p> + <p> + I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an + opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections + that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my + lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a + suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. + Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and + in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where + I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart bleed. I + was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked + out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in + search of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I + looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and + drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for + her if she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled + to hear some one say, “Did you speak to me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. + Flint standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, + away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This + generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he + had killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed + that incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put + Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to + have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required + attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware + that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + </p> + <p> + I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It + must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, + and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, + often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we + started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing + the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her bed room was on the first + floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and + she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by + should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round + me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and + thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. + As I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother + is here.” After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and + he sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that + it was I, he exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dead, are you? They didn’t cut + off your head at the plantation, did they?” + </p> + <p> + My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny + back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. + Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we + were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s + hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large + tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a + recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with + them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we + heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We + were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to their labor. I + divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing that he had lost + the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day in the field. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was + idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew + nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented + himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the + necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, + and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to + consent to that arrangement. + </p> + <p> + When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. + Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty + dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she + stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we + all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such + occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups + and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot + muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two + cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s delight. She invariably + declared that it was the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times + together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old + times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be + taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled + with grandmother’s best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with us, and + when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt Marthy’s” nice + cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was + angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She + would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother’s + feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had + nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor’s wife would gladly have + prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but + fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had + enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from + charity, however lavish it may be. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to + see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the + house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had + many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see + how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She + inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. + She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and + all my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for not until then + should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I + was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my + children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the + town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for + myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity + could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved + abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp + upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my + helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the + boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have + taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, + every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and + gave me fresh courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled + over me in a seemingly endless night of storms. + </p> + <p> + The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was expected + to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, + and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, + and return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various + orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It + was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever + asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. It needed more than one + night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday + would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A + calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a + day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever + spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last + talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! + Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, + better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom + that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from + it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my + poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There the wicked cease + from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest + together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free + from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as + I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or + to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother’s blessing when she died; + and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, + sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded + heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone + from my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as + I remembered my mother. + </p> + <p> + The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke + the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My + spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years + I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as + now. A black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all that + remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small + wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly + obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to + God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about to take. As + I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner’s + time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my + father’s voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached + freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. My trust in God + had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + </p> + <p> + My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a + few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get + discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently + finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I + knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children + comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was + packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I + was doing. “I am putting my things in order,” I replied. I tried to look + and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the + surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked + earnestly at me, and said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old + grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old + now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to + secure their freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your own + children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who + forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy + moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to + live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be + dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a + little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + </p> + <p> + My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that + faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I + would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, + she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She + don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to + reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I + loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was + the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + </p> + <p> + On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with + preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful + day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor + creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, + and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no such hopes + for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their + authority and importance would be best established and maintained by + cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to + expect that her rule over them would be less severe than that of the + master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the most cheerful and + forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their masters sleep in + safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon + their sufferings with less pity than they would bestow on those of a horse + or a dog. + </p> + <p> + I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She + was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion + at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy + future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds + would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and + told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid + old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to + please her. + </p> + <p> + All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind + the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my + life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who + would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not + made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting + the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I + had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, + considered my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing + could please her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was + just where she would have me—in the power of a hard, unprincipled + master. She did not speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her + satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent + than words. The old doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He + ordered me here and there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said + “your <i>mistress</i>.” I was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all + was over, and the last key turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God + had appointed a season of rest for the weary. + </p> + <p> + The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly + appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday + evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received + their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and + perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound + and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. + Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The + meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on + planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the + building, and when the first foreman called out, “Who takes this piece of + meat?” he answered by calling somebody’s name. This method was resorted to + as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young + mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she + soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their + allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family + through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the + mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were + too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered + much before he found rest in the grave. + </p> + <p> + My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old + Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her + daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the + conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could leave the + plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. + If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have + had no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage + to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, “Don’t neglect to send for + them as quick as possible.” My heart was on the watch all the time, and I + at once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next + day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, + “Don’t wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. + They thought my children’s being there would fetter me to the spot, and + that it was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our + lot as slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always + manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. + Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor + performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half + famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, + and the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was + ordered to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, + how do you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I + expected. He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow + they are going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, + Linda. I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable + to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought + to the plantation to be “broke in.” + </p> + <p> + To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely + information. It nerved me to immediate action. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVII. The Flight. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he + had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of + course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave + them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of + the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I + mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on + her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a + thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little one. I + therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as + I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in + their power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to + leave them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon + my dear old grandmother; and nothing less than the freedom of my children + would have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening + work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to + inquire why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my + work. “You have had time enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you + answer me!” + </p> + <p> + I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third + story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how + fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost + need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I + failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made + to suffer for my fault. + </p> + <p> + At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second + floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and + looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see + nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of + rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, + and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped + my way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning + speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house, but dared not see her. She + would say, “Linda, you are killing me;” and I knew that would unnerve me. + I tapped softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had + lived in the house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and + could be trusted with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard + me. At last she raised the window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run + away. Let me in, quick.” She opened the door softly, and said in low + tones, “For God’s sake, don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and + de chillern. Mr. Sands was here last week. He tole her he was going away + on business, but he wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de + chillern, and he would help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your + grandmother is all bowed down wid trouble now.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation + to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have + me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t want + de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery + inch ob dis house.” + </p> + <p> + I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to + know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all + my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint + and the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the + sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not + go out into the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed + where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and + motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to + them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I + knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, + and turned away. + </p> + <p> + As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my + shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my + account.” + </p> + <p> + I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house + of the friend who was to conceal me. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring for me. + She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He + watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any thing about her + running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, “Last + night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very + kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are + her children with you?” When told that they were, he said, “I am very glad + to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that + any of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I’ll + give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he started to go to his father’s, he + turned round and added, persuasively, “Let her be brought back, and she + shall have her children to live with her.” + </p> + <p> + The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a + busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top to bottom. + As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. + Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, + and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night + a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would + be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one + who went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he + would take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of + course she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before + night, the following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in + every public place for miles round:— + </p> + <p class="preserve"> + “<span class="smallcaps">$300 Reward!</span> Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto + girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, + and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a + decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all + probability will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, + under penalty of the law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given + to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and + delivered to me, or lodged in jail. + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">Dr. Flint</span>.”</p> + + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + </h2> + <p> + The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had + anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great + anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the + consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even + that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness + to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into + such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my + hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket + of bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a + reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which + loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so + dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and + slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was + compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into + the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my + look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and + vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The + application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread + of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend + asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the + bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in + vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part.<a + href="#linknote-1" id="linknoteref-1"><sup>1</sup></a> + </p> + <hr> + <div class="foot"> + <a id="linknote-1">1</a> The poison of a snake is a + powerful acid, and is counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, + ammonia, &c. The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge + the limb into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in + snaky places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—<span class="smallcaps">Editor</span>. + </div> + <p> + I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. + They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to + escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and + let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. + When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come + what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me liberty, or give me + death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my + relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they + said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and + that speedily; but where to turn for help, they knew not. God in his + mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + </p> + <p> + Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had + known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had + also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At + this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not + unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her + face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My + grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt Martha,” said + the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something to help + you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and sold + slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated them + kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was unlike the + majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked earnestly at her. + Something in the expression of her face said “Trust me!” and she did trust + her. She listened attentively to the details of my story, and sat thinking + for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think + there is any chance of Linda’s getting to the Free States, I will conceal + her for a time. But first you must solemnly promise that my name shall + never be mentioned. If such a thing should become known, it would ruin me + and my family. No one in my house must know of it, except the cook. She is + so faithful that I would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes + Linda. It is a great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word + to Linda to be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I + will send the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” + The place where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My + grandmother was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by + her emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + </p> + <p> + I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go to + a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of + prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was + to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, + but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I + disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the + appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I + expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so + intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave me strength. We + reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first words were: “Honey, + now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search <i>dis</i> house. When + I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I + specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s vocation led her to + think eating the most important thing in life. She did not realize that my + heart was too full for me to care much about supper. + </p> + <p> + The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over + her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said she; “I + keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not + accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless + they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care + of the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; + and you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I + will keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to + bring your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till + night. I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this + state of things will not last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot + supper,” and the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight + till she returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in + my throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that + deed of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + </p> + <p> + I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the + most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with + light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my + window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie + perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. + Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of + satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed + over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly + compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed + against the strength of their tyrants. + </p> + <p> + I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew + who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for + revenge than he did for money. My brother William, and the good aunt who + had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who + was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of + compelling my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my + grandmother should never see one of them again till I was brought back. + They kept these facts from me for several days. When I heard that my + little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. + I was encountering dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the + cause of their death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to + soothe me by telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children + while they remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the + good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister’s orphan + children, should be shut up in prison for no other crime than loving them. + I suppose my friends feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as + they did, that my life was bound up in my children. I received a note from + my brother William. It was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you + are, dear sister, I beg of you not to come here. We are all much better + off than you are. If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you + to tell where you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of + your friends; if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for + the sake of those you would ruin.” + </p> + <p> + Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice + and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, + because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being + her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and + eat it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he + could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me + tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold + them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she + repeated their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my + tears would flow. Old Betty would exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying + ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If + you does, you vil nebber git thro’ dis world.” + </p> + <p> + Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had + little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their + soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; + she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that + even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my + feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had + denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with + the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. + Flint’s. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, + and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home + to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and + his wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen + cried all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are + true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed + Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, + Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she + would be quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a + handy waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with + her white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope + the doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for + their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running + away. She hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its + calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of + jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! + When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, + and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What + do you stand there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off with the brat? Mind, + now, that you don’t let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!” + </p> + <p> + When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying + that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself + there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as + one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried + back to jail. + </p> + <p> + That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till + near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the house, and + thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with Linda.” He + knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so early?” said he. + “I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I + have found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I + shall have her before twelve o’clock.” When he had turned away, my + grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know + whether or not it was merely one of the doctor’s tricks to frighten them. + In their uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed + to my friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to + dispose of me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress + quickly. We hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. + She locked the door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin + and a bit of carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over + me. “Stay dar,” said she, “till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey + vil put thar hans on you afore twelve o’clock. If dey <i>did</i> know whar + you are, dey won’t know <i>now</i>. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s + all I got to say. If dey comes rummagin ’mong <i>my</i> tings, dey’ll get + one bressed sarssin from dis ’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but + just room enough to bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my + eyes; for Betty walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the + dresser to the fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing + anathemas over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, + with a chuckling laugh, “Dis nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the + housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might + hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my + being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they would answer, + that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; that I was in + Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were abed and asleep, + Betty raised the plank, and said, “Come out, chile; come out. Dey don’t + know nottin ’bout you. ’Twas only white folks’ lies, to skeer de niggers.” + </p> + <p> + Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very + still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my + mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing + to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my + discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that + chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too + dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the + house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in + terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the + constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I + did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It + seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and + that was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I + heard approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced + myself against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and + there stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, + and sunk down upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing you + would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may + even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He is so sure you + are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in + pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has + obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the + present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket + hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIX. The Children Sold. + </h2> + <p> + The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his + purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. + My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also + was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on + his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine + hundred dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two + children. These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the + offer was rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor + would have sold any boy of Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he + could not bear to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed + for money, and he revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he + could keep Ellen till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; + but I presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At + all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the + slave-trader’s offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would + leave town. “To-day, at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do you go so soon?” + said the doctor; “I have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have + concluded to let you have the three negroes if you will say nineteen + hundred dollars.” After some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He + wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great + deal to attend to during the short time he remained in town. The doctor + went to the jail and told William he would take him back into his service + if he would promise to behave himself; but he replied that he would rather + be sold. “And you <i>shall</i> be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed + the doctor. In less than an hour the money was paid, the papers were + signed, sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children were in the + hands of the trader. + </p> + <p> + It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s + characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, + “Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not + to sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come too late,” replied + the trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in fact, already sold them to + Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons + on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass through the back streets when he took + his gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to + his wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, + supposing them to be the speculator’s property, and that she should never + see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want + to show you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row + of marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for + every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and + the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. It’s + wrong for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my mother.” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but + she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. + Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When + she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children + in the trader’s cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was + afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and + was carried home. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and + proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without + stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that + drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not + where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look + upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and + cries of despair. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and + Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going + “as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to agreement, my + uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. + There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, + “You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them + gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I + must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, + and call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he’ll + never git their mammy back agin. I expect she’s made tracks for the + north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must + thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That’s + going to be my last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a + fellow that’s got any heart. Move on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, + God alone knows where. + </p> + <p> + Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as + the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that + he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, + and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was + willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even without + charging the customary fee. + </p> + <p> + My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to + town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were + closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little + ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their + hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt + prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and + though such a “parental relation” as existed between him and my children + takes slight hold of the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be + that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness + he had imparted. + </p> + <p> + I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day + had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that + happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the + superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the + window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without being + seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there + thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of + serenaders were under the window, playing “Home, sweet home.” I listened + till the sounds did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. + It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and + knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst + of it appeared the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen + them distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not + how to account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I + felt certain something had happened to my little ones. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the + key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know + whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen + their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. + “Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, “you’s got de + high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll make a noise, and + ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done + cryin, I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed + ’em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear + you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no + sleep would come to my eyelids. + </p> + <p> + At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the + vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a + while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I + recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda + Brent’s children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa + Flint was mighty glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say they’ve + come back agin. I ’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They say he’s + bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I’m + going roun’ to aunt Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + </p> + <p> + I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my + children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? + The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty <i>never</i> come, and tell me the + truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had + overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish ting!” + said she. “I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is eating thar + breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! + t’aint right to keep you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell you. Brudder, + chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan nuff, tinking + ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he <i>vill</i> swar! He’s got ketched dis + time, any how; but I must be getting out o’ dis, or dem gals vill come and + ketch <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my + children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had + returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and + many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of my + children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I am glad + to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. + You need never expect to see <i>her</i> free. She shall be my slave as + long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. + If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running + off I’ll kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to + look at me, I’ll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out + of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his + own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to + strike her to the ground. + </p> + <p> + I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my + childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old + doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The + darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery + might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, + my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart + believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better + to trust than to doubt. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XX. New Perils. + </h2> + <p> + The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on + my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my + flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew + nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I + left my master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give + bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. + Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him + he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without + giving bail. + </p> + <p> + The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to + Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the + floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her + culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention + that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s imprisonment + would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. + Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my + uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way that would be + construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court + his word would not be taken against any white man’s. The search for me was + renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They + searched the house I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At + night, when all were asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of + confinement. The fright I had undergone, the constrained posture, and the + dampness of the ground, made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon + after taken out of prison; but the movements of all my relatives, and of + all our friends, were very closely watched. + </p> + <p> + We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already + staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of + perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends + had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my + persecutors made it impossible to carry them into effect. + </p> + <p> + One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my + room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it + was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some + noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend + came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. “I knows who it + was,” said she. “’Pend upon it, ’twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de + debble in her.” I suggested that she might have seen or heard something + that excited her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn + notin’. She only ’spects someting. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who + hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. I’ll + git missis to fix her.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat + ’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + </p> + <p> + She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep + Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her + he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I + was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any + where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my + situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for + me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took + Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a + kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I + never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling + fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of + sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a + small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, + she exclaimed, “I’se <i>so</i> glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t + forget ole Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness, but she + interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help you, + and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine wid you to + de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de + sailors.” + </p> + <p> + I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young + colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an + apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not + afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked + off. “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got a dagger, and + no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body.” + </p> + <p> + It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh + air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me + above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not + recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter’s sake, + as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked + on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband was a seafaring man, + and it had been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me + into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on + board. We three were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to + ask what they proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board + till near dawn, and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle + Phillip had prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been + bound north, it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly + have been searched. About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, + and rowed three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased + by the venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the + best that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + </p> + <p> + Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and + briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried + me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered + with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time they had so poisoned my + flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw + snake after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of + snakes all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To + this day I shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, + the number of snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to + thrash them with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos + were so high and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very + short distance. Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to + the entrance of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the + boat. It was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low + whistle, which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter + the boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; + for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of + snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when + they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I could + scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous snakes + were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in that community + called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of tobacco to burn, to + keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired effect on them, but gave + me nausea and severe headache. At dark we returned to the vessel. I had + been so sick during the day, that Peter declared I should go home that + night, if the devil himself was on patrol. They told me a place of + concealment had been provided for me at my grandmother’s. I could not + imagine how it was possible to hide me in her house, every nook and corner + of which was known to the Flint family. They told me to wait and see. We + were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the streets, to my + grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s clothes, and had blackened my face with + charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of my children + came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it + was. + </p> + <p> + “You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you may + not have another very soon.” + </p> + <p> + I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me + what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + </h2> + <p> + A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some + boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards + and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats + and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according + to the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet + long and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down + abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light + or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a + concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been + doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a + piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The + air was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. + I could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden + that I could not turn on the other without hitting the roof. The rats and + mice ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the + wretched may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it + only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the + same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not + comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there + was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to + them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, + through which I could peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It + seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day after day, without + one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a + slave, though white people considered it an easy one; and it was so + compared with the fate of others. I was never cruelly over-worked; I was + never lacerated with the whip from head to foot; I was never so beaten and + bruised that I could not turn from one side to the other; I never had my + heel-strings cut to prevent my running away; I was never chained to a log + and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning + till night; I was never branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On + the contrary, I had always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, + until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom + till then. But though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of + hardships, God pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + </p> + <p> + My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; + and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such + opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the + opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be + done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, + but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against + something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there + when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could + have been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. + I said to myself, “Now I will have some light. Now I will see my + children.” I did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of + attracting attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next + the street, where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet + in and waited for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; + then I bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one + hole about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the + night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I + watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. + Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. + Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of + children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as + though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. + How I longed to <i>tell</i> them I was there! + </p> + <p> + My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by + hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that pierced + through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother + gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. + The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me + from the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my consolations. Through my + peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I + could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear + at Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York + to a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and + had breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she + could find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her + reply; but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his + family that he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as + he passed on his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles + of land and water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still + greater satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. + My little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did + from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory + information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at + the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called + out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her.” The + doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get out of the + way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off your head.” + </p> + <p> + Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail + again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried the + words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had + our next conference at the trap-door; and begged of her not to allow the + children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become + accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain + position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great + relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold + penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. + The winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; + but the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was + peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bed-clothes and + warm drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep + comfortable; but with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were + frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest + upon, and no thoughts to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the + uncertain future! I was thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild + for me to wrap myself up and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. + Southerners have the habit of stopping and talking in the streets, and I + heard many conversations not intended to meet my ears. I heard + slave-hunters planning how to catch some poor fugitive. Several times I + heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and the history of my children, who, + perhaps, were playing near the gate. One would say, “I wouldn’t move my + little finger to catch her, as old Flint’s property.” Another would say, + “I’ll catch <i>any</i> nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what + belongs to him, if he <i>is</i> a damned brute.” The opinion was often + expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest + that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my + grandmother’s house, it would have been burned to the ground. But it was + the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery + existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to + tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them + into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay + handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away + from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, “Dr. Flint, I + don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New York; and when you go + there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but + if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll cut her head off, I’ll tell her + to go right back.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied + myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. + Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are + fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, + Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers + try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and + Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could + not have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the + pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new + suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought + him any thing. “Yes,” replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. + It’s the children’s mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that + can’t be,” replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new + clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time.” + </p> + <p> + How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that + many a tear fell on them while she worked! + </p> + <p> + Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. + Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They + consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the + lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over + them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ tails are + fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, + covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, + while others strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep + time. For a month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on + this occasion. These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the + morning, and are allowed to go round till twelve o’clock, begging for + contributions. Not a door is left unvisited where there is the least + chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of rum. They do not drink while + they are out, but carry the rum home in jugs, to have a carousal. These + Christmas donations frequently amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is + seldom that any white man or child refuses to give them a trifle. If he + does, they regale his ears with the following song:— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Poor massa, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Down in de heel, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Got no money, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Not one shillin, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">God A’mighty bress you, so dey say.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. + Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend + them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without + saying, “By your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, cook a + ’possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My + grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale; and it was her established + custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests + had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free + colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always + ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white + people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take + them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open + for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs + to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, + the rooms were all thrown open, that they might look in. When I heard them + talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored + man had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood + of a slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off + for white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised + him! As for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his + office were despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as + he did not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise + money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by + being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise + authority. If he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip him + as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the + guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her + nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw + them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So + passed the first Christmas in my den. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIII. Still In Prison. + </h2> + <p> + When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture + commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be + condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh + air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the + earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for + a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even + tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop + from the thin roof over my head. + </p> + <p> + During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room + to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so + stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all + my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, + either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I + suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed <i>him</i> to be out + in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the + only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon + me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I + should die before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl + through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most + terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the + roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. + Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, + and that was not comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I + could keep out by filling the chinks with oakum. + </p> + <p> + But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of + doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw + a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he + will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress had that + day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair + face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her + child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her + master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her + mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold + to a Georgia trader. + </p> + <p> + Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a + slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling offence + her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the + degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended + her wrongs in death. + </p> + <p> + Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as + these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he + stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery + was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the + master, and a blessing to the slave!” + </p> + <p> + I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. + My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I + had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and + tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was + impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother + William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched + tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire + whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to + consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself + leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with streaming + eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an + unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great + danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied + me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at + heart. How to get medical advice was the question. William finally went to + a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and + aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially + charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in + my little den? Charcoal in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet + for the gas, and it nearly cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already + kindled, were brought up in an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so + weak, and it was so long since I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that + those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some + good; but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind + as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, + dismal as it was, and even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for + the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate + Father, who would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other + times, it seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine + government. I asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and + why I had been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things + took the shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as + I trust it will be hereafter. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight of + anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best + friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, + how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I + could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + </p> + <p> + One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my + peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually + kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I + heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed + up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this and be unable + to go to him! + </p> + <p> + But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. + Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of + the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day + that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from + his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her + customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire + whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked + permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t + see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when she found other + ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in + Christian charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, + and stood by the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who + had been repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her + so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She + herself sent for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my + retreat, I should have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He + pronounced my grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her + attending physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have + him coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him + a chance to make out a long bill. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that + a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he had killed + him. It would be good news to send to his mother. <i>Her</i> day will + come. The dogs will grab <i>her</i> yet.” With these Christian words she + and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + </p> + <p> + I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and + gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could + now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of + feeling that I caused her death.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + </h2> + <p> + The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New + York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he + returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig + candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted + all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of + men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of + rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in + the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to + vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the street without + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event + which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my + children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. + Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not + to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. + Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since + the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I + supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother + concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + </p> + <p> + The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, towards + evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found + myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch + from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles + gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I + could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all + the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, + screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, + and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were + failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me + a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the + window, I said, “Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He + started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed + the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had + suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then + felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And + had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not + listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy + within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some + one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called me?” said he, + in a low tone. “I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, “I knew your + voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do + you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are + mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are all ruined.” I did + not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so + I merely said, “I thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and + so I came here to speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. + Many changes may take place during the six months you are gone to + Washington, and it does not seem right for you to expose them to the risk + of such changes. I want nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will + free my children, or authorize some friend to do it, before you go.” + </p> + <p> + He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness to make any + arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + </p> + <p> + I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to + crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for + I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the + house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom + window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over + night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we + should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to + wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + </p> + <p> + I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I + had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength + that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the + floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the + storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she + whispered, “where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here by the window,” I replied. “I <i>couldn’t</i> have him go away + without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here another + minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + I told her + I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle + Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back + to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and + asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I + was left with my own thoughts—starless as the midnight darkness + around me. + </p> + <p> + My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary + of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my + children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was + willing to bear on. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my + grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; + and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who + wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that + this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I + resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him + believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated + from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any + trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, + and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would + trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it + was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was + willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York + paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into + his pocket, and said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought + of a pedler yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next + evening. He bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; + brighter days will come by and by.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was + over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to + examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for + once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to + render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted + concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my + grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed + man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and + what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I + expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the north, where I + could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a virtuous example; + which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the south. I asked her to + direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, as I did not live in New + York, though I went there sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow + for the time it would take to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the + date to the messenger. When my friend came for the letters, I said, “God + bless and reward you, Peter, for this disinterested kindness. Pray be + careful. If you are detected, both you and I will have to suffer + dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare to do it for me.” He + replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t forget that your father was + my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children so long as God lets + me live.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she + might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might + say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure + mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order + that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I + whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it + will succeed. I shan’t mind being a slave all <i>my</i> life, if I can + only see you and the children free.” + </p> + <p> + I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office + on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say + that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter + he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring + it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the + next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and + asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I + might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound + of that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before + I heard the gate slam, and the well-known footsteps enter the house. He + seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, “Well, + Martha, I’ve brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, + also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston + for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a + respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. + With <i>him</i>, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay + his expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her + children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her + freedom, you’ll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no + objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + </p> + <p> + He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had + suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of + his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + “Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + <span class="smallcaps">Linda</span>.”</div> + + <p> + “It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, + rising to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and + wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip + about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I + should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + </p> + <p> + As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, + Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t see + you. How do you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my + mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and + you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + </p> + <p> + This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother + was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go + for me. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told + him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be + mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and nonsense, + Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row + in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she + wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust <i>you</i>. + The case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with <i>me</i>; + and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not + believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a + row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a + common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but + I forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no + wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she + arrives here.” + </p> + <p> + Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let + the cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of + Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the + street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date + in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated + from New York, the old man would probably have made another journey to + that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully + excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to + the conclusion that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place + to go to in search of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was + passed; before Massachusetts had consented to become a “nigger hunter” for + the south. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in + danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What + will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t been + there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he’ll find + out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish + you had never sent the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t + trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in + the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You have + been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will + break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every day to + hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, + poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go ‘where + the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’” My heart + responded, Amen. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me + that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no + suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to + keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, + and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I + resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time + to time. + </p> + <p> + Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, + grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, + sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was + allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and + remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, + except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the + upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the + curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much + better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came + down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o’clock, when people + began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the + piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into + my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a + painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first + mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space + of the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had + gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters + from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a + manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to + him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William + wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some + time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had + promised to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would + William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk + together, in our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it + very doubtful whether he would come back to us. + </p> + <p> + Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had + proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; + that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled + through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had + tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they + should be at home shortly. + </p> + <p> + We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, + but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late + in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I + felt almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he + no word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in + her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the + uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God’s could see me, I + wept bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my + children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + </p> + <p> + At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had + made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old + hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s plate occupied its + old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. + She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my + prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear + brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by + Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that + the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel + troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few + days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could + never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + </p> + <p> + If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the + messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old + grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I + was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother + had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a + good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had + incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, + who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their + emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father + was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises + made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, + depend upon many contingencies for their fulfilment. + </p> + <p> + Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and + anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it + seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the + children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it + would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as + only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has + gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May be he’ll find mother. If + he does, <i>won’t</i> she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle + Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; + wouldn’t you, Ellen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do you + know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do + you, Benny?” + </p> + <p> + Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an + old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had + witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts + unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that + my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, + “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?” + </p> + <p> + “O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my + children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and lay + my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He + staid at the north.” + </p> + <p> + Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is <i>dat</i> what you’s crying + fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t + know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t know + whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you <i>do</i> know whar her brudder is. + He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s + doings, but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + </p> + <p> + My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the + escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was + only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and + prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my + family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that + Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his + duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be + free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better + not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, “Don’t worry + about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur + me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to + give you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live + happy together.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving + him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him + as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no + idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. He’s young and + inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the + scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor + House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. + He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather + shabby, and asked if he didn’t need some money. He said, No, thanked me, + and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited + patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our + journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me + where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He + wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my + kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a + free man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive + him. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have + trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, + or send for him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me.” + </p> + <p> + I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had + not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could + give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at + his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had + he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he + might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his + freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be + seized by creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in + his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who + had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present + opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from + his master on false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his + passage to Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful + wretch, for thus requiting his master’s indulgence. What would <i>they</i> + have done under similar circumstances? + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they + chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations + of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he’ll never get + him again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon + Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in + the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of seeing those little niggers + march about the streets.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the + father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful + devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that + when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed him in + disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to + entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to + time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into + Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the + conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over + my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + </p> + <p> + A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands + and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a + fancy to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does he + belong to?” + </p> + <p> + Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the + stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, + Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the + children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to + them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The + question seemed a mockery. What <i>could</i> I do? They were Mr. Sands’s + slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. + Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any + decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sands + had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no + children of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to + adopt her, and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to + take Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost + beyond endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for + the sake of having my children free? True, the prospect <i>seemed</i> + fair; but I knew too well how lightly slaveholders held such “parental + relations.” If pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required + more money than could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought + of as a convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O + Slavery! Never should I know peace till my children were emancipated with + all due formalities of law. + </p> + <p> + I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I + could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to + remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his + honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, + and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep + the promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals + concerning my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had + promised to emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. + I knew there was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; + but what will not a mother do for her children? He received the message + with surprise, and said, “The children are free. I have never intended to + claim them as slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had + better be sent to the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. + Flint boasts that they are still in his power. He says they were his + daughter’s property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the + contract is not legally binding.” + </p> + <p> + So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were + between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was + powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. + Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his + relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that + she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, + as the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, + negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the + transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to + Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with + friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of + it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought + to me, that the bondwoman’s child should tend her free-born sister; but + there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it + tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without + a mother’s love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without + memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the + natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself + that I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire + that she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my + image with her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to + my dungeon. It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her + mother was a victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place + to which it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in + one of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to + think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them + I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that + I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate + it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the + rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my + purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, + and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and + went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years + since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken + shelter when my mistress drove me from her house; there came my old + tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid + in my arms; there I had watched over them, each day with a deeper and + sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the + wrong I had done. How vividly it all came back! And after this long, + gloomy interval, I stood there such a wreck! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The + door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I + put my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother.” + She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she + laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been + so long desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, + inquiringly, “You really <i>are</i> my mother?” I told her I really was; + that during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most + tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk + with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, + “I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why didn’t you ever come before? + Benny and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and + sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn’t you come home when Dr. Flint + went to bring you?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, + tell me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. + “Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, + where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a + letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any + body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, <i>do</i> go, dear mother!” + </p> + <p> + I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then + she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted + to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the + north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him + before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night + and sleep with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she + said, pleadingly, “<i>May</i> I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own + mother.” He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, “Ellen, this is + the secret you have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak + of it to any body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and + your mother can never come to Brooklyn.” “Uncle,” she replied, “I will + never tell.” He told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I + took her in my arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason + she must never say she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to + try to please the people where she was going, and that God would raise her + up friends. I told her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for + her poor mother, and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and + I did not check her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to + pour her tears into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, + and I had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose + any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead + softly, and she said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + </p> + <p> + Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window + curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, + and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when + I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad + for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last + kiss, and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I will never tell.” And she never + did. + </p> + <p> + When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone + in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for + Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to + her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. <i>Won’t</i> + you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, ma’am;” and they little + dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was + an affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she + loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard + the gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can + experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I + feared I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let + her go to Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my + experience of slavery that decided me against it. I feared that + circumstances might arise that would cause her to be sent back. I felt + confident that I should go to New York myself; and then I should be able + to watch over her, and in some degree protect her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after + Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on + Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion + very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his + own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” And as for sending + Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be + for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said + her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children + were her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could + take them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + </p> + <p> + Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now + in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable + for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not + understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, + after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. + Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely + to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his + hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of + things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I + could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + </p> + <p> + Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a + letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire whether + she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to + her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person + there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child’s + friends at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, + are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and + persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how + entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child + dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + </p> + <p> + If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, + curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of + Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote + to request that she would send her children away from the great house + before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman + could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The + existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was + only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance + to him. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. + It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had + just arrived. It contained the following message from her: “I do try to do + just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning.” I + understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to + my heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, “Ellen is a nice little + girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has + given her to me, to be my little waiting maid. I shall send her to school, + and I hope some day she will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed + and troubled me. Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she + was old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a + piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return + to the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away + from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to + us. I said to myself, “Surely there must be <i>some</i> justice in man;” + then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural + feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted + boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of + slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely + out of the reach of its power! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + </h2> + <p> + I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, and + who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from + him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as + slaves <i>can</i> marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, + and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without + any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they + pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint’s + chamber door, that she might be within call. When she was married, she was + told she might have the use of a small room in an out-house. Her mother and + her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep + there when he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was + ordered to her old post on the entry floor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a + mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could + she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at + her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature + birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on + the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her attentions. She kept + her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature + birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse + to Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of + rest at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint + declared it was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living + child. The fear of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them + to allow her to sleep in her little room in the out-house, except when + there was sickness in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one + of whom died in a few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember + her patient sorrow as she held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it + could have lived,” she said; “it is not the will of God that any of my + children should live. But I will try to be fit to meet their little + spirits in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. Indeed, + she was the <i>factotum</i> of the household. Nothing went on well without + her. She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she + supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I + lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us was very strong. + When my friends tried to discourage me from running away, she always + encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master’s + pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never + to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of + my children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to + leave them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own + life. After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she + could, to bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I + kneel down to listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a + crack! “I am old, and have not long to live,” she used to say; “and I + could die happy if I could only see you and the children free. You must + pray to God, Linda, as I do for you, that he will lead you out of this + darkness.” I would beg her not to worry herself on my account; that there + was an end of all suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in + chains or in freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who + had been the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; + and not me only. The whole family relied upon her judgment, and were + guided by her advice. + </p> + <p> + I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother + was summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was + very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. + Flint’s house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she + thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch by + the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each other; + and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, longing to speak of the + secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My aunt had been + stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the last day she was + speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, she told her mother + not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she would try to hold up + her hand, to let her know that all was well with her. Even the + hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying woman try + to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His eyes + moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful servant, + and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took to her + bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone with the + dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always been a + great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. “Martha,” said + he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I hope + you will be kind to him, for her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my + foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you + little know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her + children.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it,” + said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. She would + be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish + it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she + would be a great comfort to your old age.” + </p> + <p> + He knew he was touching a + tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, “It was + not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine + children only one is left. God help me!” + </p> + <p> + To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew + that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped + to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to + hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I + could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip + came into the house, I heard some one inquire, “How is she?” and he + answered, “She is dead.” My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew + nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over + me. I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died + happy.” I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look <i>so</i>,” + he said. “Don’t add to my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has + to bear, and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that + blessed old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting + storms of a slave-mother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently + without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health + by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she + became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful + illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if + the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for + the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in + the doctor’s family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed + interment in the white people’s burying-ground, and the minister knew that + all the deceased of our family reposed together in the old graveyard of + the slaves. He therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with + your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy’s <i>mother</i> may have some choice as + to where her remains shall be deposited.” + </p> + <p> + It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. + When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to + lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be + buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it + was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from <i>her</i>. She might + have added with touching pathos, “I was so long <i>used</i> to sleep with + her lying near me, on the entry floor.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; + and slaveholders are always ready to grant <i>such</i> favors to slaves + and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly + respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint’s minister read + the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond + and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our + family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the procession; and when the body was + deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and + returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty + nobly. + </p> + <p> + It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern + travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute + of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the “patriarchal + institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and + their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this + impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. <i>We</i> could have told them + a different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and + sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they <i>had</i> any + hearts to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the + poor old slave-mother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred + dollars to buy her son Phillip’s right to his own earnings; and how that + same Phillip paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as + doing so much credit to the master. We could also have told them of a + poor, blighted young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to + avoid the tortures that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come + out and look on the face of her departed friend. + </p> + <p> + All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting + for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes + falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + </p> + <p> + It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always + been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But + her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving + deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to + come to the trap-door, and each place had a different meaning. She now came + oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while + tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to + comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to + help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old + back was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + </h2> + <p> + I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived + in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no + space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to + me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that + long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now + living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + </p> + <p> + Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely + large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, I heard the + patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of + runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + </p> + <p> + Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, and + heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, + “Your mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled + away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I + was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know + when these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the + sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + </p> + <p> + After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that + Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; + and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect + them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my + den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out + of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some + one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they + spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been + laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted + attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a + process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs + were greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, + which I sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper + with me at the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense + sympathy for runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted + on those who were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the + sufferings of her bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and + dearest of her flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would + groan out, “O, don’t think of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no + good old aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my + children were continually beckoning me to the north. + </p> + <p> + And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the + first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to + new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might + reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On + the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my friends, named + Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s debts. My thoughts + were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what + had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and + her four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped + from her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie + I have spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my + grandmother, and built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling + was searched and watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I + was obliged to keep very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; + and not long afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her + mother’s hut. He told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of + it, explaining to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed + the trust. Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her + daughter was concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was + bending under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous + secrets deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + </p> + <p> + My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each + other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my + den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so + much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur + greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily + pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, + or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from + me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for + the North Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an + unexpected way for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and + asked to speak with me. “Your day has come, Linda,” said he. “I have found + a chance for you to go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to + decide.” The news seemed too good to be true; but Peter explained his + arrangements, and told me all that was necessary was for me to say I would + go. I was going to answer him with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny + came to my mind. I told him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I + was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint’s alleged power over my child, and that I + could not go and leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said + such a good chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could + be sent to me; and that for the sake of my children’s welfare I ought not + to hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My + uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, if + his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me as + soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought nothing + had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time of departure. + But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I left her so + suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said he, “and convince her how + necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You cannot be + blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens.” I was not blind + to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present source of anxiety, + and that the older she grew the more nervously fearful she was of + discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally succeeded in persuading + her that it was absolutely necessary for me to seize the chance so + unexpectedly offered. + </p> + <p> + The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak + frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I + made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I + resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give + him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting + for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to + whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon my writing to Dr. Flint, as soon + as I arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She + said she would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the + sake of having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she + could only live to know <i>that</i> she could die in peace. I promised the + dear old faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, + and put the letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I + resolved that not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay + rapacious slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I + had not been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, + common humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, + at the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she + was trembling on the brink of the grave. + </p> + <p> + I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further + particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained + several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder + committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this + unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told + the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the + neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about + runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate + awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and + groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat + contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was + grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + </p> + <p> + When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and + vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long + time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need + not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be + glad enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him + about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his + back upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to + help her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. + She was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were + made for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed + that I had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in + the transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and + stowed away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased + at a price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes + to go to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford + the cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from + slavery, the trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only + don’t betray me!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark + and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the + vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter + too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the + wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with + fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she + must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how + thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to + come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under + her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a + nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock + the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the + detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then + Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would + be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he + should die such a horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, + and all for his kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be + for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a + sharp pang through my heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak + soothingly to her. She brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear + daughter she had recently buried, and then she lost all control of + herself. As she stood there, trembling and sobbing, a voice from the + piazza called out, “Whar is you, aunt Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, + and in her agitation opened the door, without thinking of me. In stepped + Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I + was concealed in the house of my white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery + whar for you, aunt Marthy,” said she. “My missis wants you to send her + some crackers.” I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened + me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my + heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had + done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers, locking the + door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect picture + of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my carelessness has ruined you. + The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain’t + got another word to say against it now; for there’s no telling what may + happen this day.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that + Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised + getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very + still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house + down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because + suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate + with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him + too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter + had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at + once that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a + stronger woman this time. + </p> + <p> + He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had + shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of + urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with + her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the + captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his + vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, + but the boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on + board. + </p> + <p> + The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak + about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain + replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where you or the + devil would have a tough job to find her.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “<i>She</i> is in + great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if + you’ll stop and take her.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s her name?” inquired the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By + George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. I am + too grateful to you. But there really <i>is</i> another woman in great + danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + </p> + <p> + After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any + where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself + Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I want to + bring is Linda Brent.” + </p> + <p> + The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being + handsomely paid for his detention. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if + Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; + and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s family + till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. + I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of + it, and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to + betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + </p> + <p> + I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The + intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him + for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every + day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to + venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up + together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating + interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a + little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going away. I wish I could + go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been <i>so</i> afraid they + would come and catch you!” + </p> + <p> + I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he + had found it out. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went + away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know what + made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night + before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in + the night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see <i>you</i>, before she + went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and + remember never to tell.’” + </p> + <p> + I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he + never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other + children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to + the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had + kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a + constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that + I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the + house, and I had at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his + actions. Such prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, + but slaves, being surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early + learn to be suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. + He had never asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had + often heard him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being + at the north. + </p> + <p> + I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a + good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord + would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live + together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all + day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a + small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a + part of it, at least, to pay for Benny’s being sent to the north; but she + insisted, while her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. + “You may be sick among strangers,” she said, “and they would send you to + the poorhouse to die.” Ah, that good grandmother! + </p> + <p> + For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer + chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the + blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever + that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old + grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, + after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely + round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again + descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took + me by the hand, and said, “Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, + with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, + loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has + it ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and + protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in + God. + </p> + <p> + Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in + body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, + though I felt that I should never see it again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXX. Northward Bound. + </h2> + <p> + I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, + and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle + Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might + reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. + A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something + pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. + He whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping into the doctor’s window, and + he’s at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; I’ll come.” He hastened away. I + clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, + the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks + to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed + with joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to + escape. Yet that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a + chattel! Liable, by the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to + be sold with horses and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all + too full for words! + </p> + <p> + Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors + said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your + husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; + but I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something + the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should + have pleasant weather. + </p> + <p> + When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an + elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of + a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a + spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, “Linda, can + this be <i>you</i>? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked in each + other’s arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My + sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded + us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us + not to attract any attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight + he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he had no objection to our + being on deck. He assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we + acted prudently, he thought we should be in no danger. He had represented + us as women going to meet our husbands in ——. We thanked him, + and promised to observe carefully all the directions he gave us. + </p> + <p> + Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. + She told me of the sufferings she had gone through in making her escape, + and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s house. Above + all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that + dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the + place where I had passed nearly seven years. “We have the same sorrows,” + said I. “No,” replied she, “you are going to see your children soon, and + there is no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine.” + </p> + <p> + The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was + against us. I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight + of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our + enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables + would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain + and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had + heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely + in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be + dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be + tempted to make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as + property? I was naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made + me suspicious of every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the + captain or his men. She said she was afraid at first, but she had been on + board three days while the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed + her, or treated her otherwise than kindly. + </p> + <p> + The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His + friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, reassured + me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and + occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by + birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and + that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. “But,” said he, + “it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to + acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” As we passed Snaky Swamp, + he pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave territory that defies all + the laws.” I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it + was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at + it. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so + refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly + sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating + breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never + realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived + of them. + </p> + <p> + Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain + said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better + wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to + avoid suspicion. + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + </p> + <p> + He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had + brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in + him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it + was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the + night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. + Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if + Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he + could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, + had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had + intrusted us. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I + called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free + soil; for such I <i>then</i> believed it to be. We watched the reddening + sky, and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. + Soon the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful + glow. Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and + the eyes of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, + and we supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone + in the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered + by the demon Slavery. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + </h2> + <p> + I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted + we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that + all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind + captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease + to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to + the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were + placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood + wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain + touched me on the shoulder, and said, “There is a respectable-looking + colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and + tell him you wish to go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to + direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and + said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste + I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with + salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the + great city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double + veils and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so + many levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. + I thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I + gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and + found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the + captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, + minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old + friend. He told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and + must wait until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home + with him, assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and + for my friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked + him for so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, + I should like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of + the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he + would assist me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. + I shook their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind + to us, and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly + conceive of. + </p> + <p> + I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people + in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an + expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting + on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide + to what nation I belonged. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I + was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! + I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received + her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home + made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken + of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in + looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retraced our + steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed + that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was + surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He + was approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask + about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would + he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other + at the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some + of the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; + but I would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I + thought he ought to know how far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have + tried your feelings,” said he. “I did not question you from idle + curiosity. I wanted to understand your situation, in order to know whether + I could be of any service to you, or your little girl. Your + straight-forward answers do you credit; but don’t answer every body so + openly. It might give some heartless people a pretext for treating you + with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + That word <i>contempt</i> burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God + alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am + permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live + in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + “I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be + governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + </p> + <p> + When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a + while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They + brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my + meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, + her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery + friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of + encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked + concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how + careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. + How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have + been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale + of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my + plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably + established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The + Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New York. The same was + offered to me, but I declined to accept it; telling them that my + grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to the end of my + journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a few days, until some + suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition, + for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, and some dread also of + railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in my life, and it seemed to + me quite an important event. + </p> + <p> + That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it + before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a + long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by + fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, + every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white + people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for + insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored + people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was + but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often + required to drag it to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s + daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept through + all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What’s the matter?” + said she, rubbing her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I + replied. + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get up, + without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + </p> + <p> + I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill + the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things + went on in great cities. + </p> + <p> + At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and + various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early + hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. + Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast + table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I + joined in the mirth. + </p> + <p> + I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends + that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind + hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. + Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of + knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. + One day she took me to an artist’s room, and showed me the portraits of + some of her children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people + before, and they seemed to me beautiful. + </p> + <p> + At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to accompany + us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good + hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had + repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made + any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will have + a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first class cars.” + + </p> + <p> + Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” said + he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored people + to go in the first-class cars.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored + people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the + south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made + me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + </p> + <p> + We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too + high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, + apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, + containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or + pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes + of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, + and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs + around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been + some improvement in these matters. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + </h2> + <p> + When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen + calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to + Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and + said, “I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price + was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. “Troth + an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each + other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. “Yes, it’s dacent + it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ ladies in a cab that was + not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon + reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, ladies.” We followed, and + found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on + them. We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the + trunks off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six + shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I + was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head + for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had + our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house + in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The + Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of + her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of + the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He + came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him + to aid me in procuring an interview. + </p> + <p> + I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just + arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north + seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came + from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my + daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he + agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle + Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, + when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, + and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to + live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised + and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and + inquired concerning her mother. + </p> + <p> + “You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and + there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from + me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years + since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less + observing than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go into the house; + but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as + quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and + see me. It was agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her + companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I + entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her + return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, “Where is Linda Brent? I + used to know her father and mother.” Soon Sarah came with her mother. So + there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother’s neighborhood. + These friends gathered round me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, + they cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I had got away from my + persecutors and was safe on Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. + How different from the silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + </p> + <p> + The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with + the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That + I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should + have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I + had just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of + my having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on + several people. + </p> + <p> + I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to + subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon + slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no + alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I + had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my + daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, + inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. + The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I + asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no + heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an + unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she + asked very earnestly, “Mother, when will you take me to live with you?” It made + me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and + earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed + with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school. She + had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely + knew her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public + schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + </p> + <p> + She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a + friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a + useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, “I + suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has <i>given</i> her to my + eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows + up.” I did not answer a word. How <i>could</i> she, who knew by experience + the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware of the + relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how <i>could</i> she look me + in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + </p> + <p> + I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of + ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and + afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps + they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s knowledge was + quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient to go to work + and earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. + Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been + deceived about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt + that I had none. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to + protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called + myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down + that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the + lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his + daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + </p> + <p> + Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother + William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in + Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New + Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling + voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to + get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave + me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my + rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I + lent this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a + copy to my readers. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIII. A Home Found. + </h2> + <p> + My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly + improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I + walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who + employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, + I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so + faithfully served. + </p> + <p> + One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, + and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she + preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of + infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many + questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from + my former employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a + pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice + against color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try + each other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and + I was engaged for a month. + </p> + <p> + The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this + place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and + sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of + passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so + painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would + have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save + me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told + her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and + kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, + and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant + feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to + confide in; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost + all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was + for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful + feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had + passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of + her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began + to expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the + opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had + leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more + cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, + often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a + home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to + accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my + precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was + important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor + and economy, I could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling + satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not well cared for. She + sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she generally brought a + request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some + article of clothing. This was accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. + Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became due; but some how or other the + pay-day never came. Thus many dollars of my earnings were expended to keep + my child comfortably clothed. That, however, was a slight trouble, + compared with the fear that their pecuniary embarrassments might induce + them to sell my precious young daughter. I knew they were in constant + communication with Southerners, and had frequent opportunities to do it. I + have stated that when Dr. Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she + had an inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still + troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New + York for a while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known + oculist. It did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a + mother’s making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused + to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I + made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s part + towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as + if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her own physician + to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my request because she + did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. I accepted the + explanation in silence; but she had told me that my child <i>belonged</i> + to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was a fear of my + conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her injustice; but my + knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that + it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. When it + laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms + confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and + Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, + as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was + attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was closely observing + every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my + brother William? It <i>must</i> be he—and yet, how changed! I placed + the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the + sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my brother’s arms. How + much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over + each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with + Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended so carefully, while I + was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New York a week. His old + feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as lively as ever. There are + no bonds so strong as those which are formed by suffering together. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + </h2> + <p> + My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my + letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I + received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In + order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear + in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. + They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three excursions to New York + in search of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five + hundred dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way + to the steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt + Nancy’s death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I + have kept the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + </p> + <p> + “Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher.”</p> + +<p> + This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I + knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and + though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in + former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the + hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to + go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the + African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their + cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged + with base ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the + south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The + letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. + Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important + business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked + permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. + I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to + my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she + was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, + she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She + was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred + to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he + advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may + have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known + to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is + thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes + unpopular. + </p> + <p> + There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to + New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested + to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my + door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” he exclaimed, + “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d’you do?” + </p> + <p> + O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a + slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. + “Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see + her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I + wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t + know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost + all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose free boys + can get along here at the north as well as white boys.” + </p> + <p> + I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was + mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The + rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, + with the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with + us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and + be sure to tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon + me, and invite me to return with him; but not being able to ascertain + where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the + affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were doomed + to disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of + my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through + the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and + finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the + considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews + with my darling daughter. + </p> + <p> + But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was + necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh + air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might + recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like + one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a + comfort it is, to be free to <i>say</i> so! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + </h2> + <p> + It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We + went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for + tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come + to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby had her supper, + but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being + insulted.” “O no, not if you are with <i>me</i>,” she said. I saw several + white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were + at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff + voice said, “Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here.” I looked + up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a + colored man. If his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the + boat, he might, at least, have done it politely. I replied, “I shall not + get up, unless the captain comes and takes me up.” No cup of tea was + offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked + to see whether the other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They + were all properly waited on. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making + a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and we’ll go + in together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will you allow + your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew this was to + be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I + did not mind it. + </p> + <p> + At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took + one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, + of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but + here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round + me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize + me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + </p> + <p> + We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the + remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the + clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see + Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, + were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has + come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” I accepted the + warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and + would try to see her when I came back. + </p> + <p> + Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim Crow + car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the + streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same + manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, + and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway + before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a large hotel, beautifully + situated by the sea-side—a great resort of the fashionable world. + Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of + the ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only + nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took + little Mary and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long + hall. A young man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the + table two or three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower + end of it. As there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my + lap. Whereupon the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner + possible, “Will you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand + behind it and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the + kitchen, where you will have a good supper.” + </p> + <p> + This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I + looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade + lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence + were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in + my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce + ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered + for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they + soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The + landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his + servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of + other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + </p> + <p> + My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with <i>themselves</i>, + for not having too much self-respect to submit to such treatment; that + there was no difference in the price of board for colored and white + servants, and there was no justification for difference of treatment. I + staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand up for my + rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man and woman + do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot by our + oppressors. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + </h2> + <p> + After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and + see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. + Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid + seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted + on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said she, “and he is + sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told + me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many + little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her + grandchild.” + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the + south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old + slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom + they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he + professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a + distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was + nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be + the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He + met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from + slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + </p> + <p> + I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful + child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant + lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own + inconveniences and troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily perceived + that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her + unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing + was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very + grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation + that was continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very + often for rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and + Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so + that they had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. “But for all + that,” said she, “Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I + feel sorry for him.” I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had + laid up a hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give + her and Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous + not to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover + till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only + annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to + my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile + language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + </p> + <p> + I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found + Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said she, + “I’ve been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne has + written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. + Hobbs will tell you all about it!” + </p> + <p> + The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine + arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, + which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the + time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the + pieces and carried them to the children, saying, “I wonder who Mr. Thorne + has been writing to.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the + children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been writing + to the south about my mother.” + </p> + <p> + They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put + the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were + no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I declare, Ellen, I + believe you are right.” + </p> + <p> + The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as + follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can + be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here + to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my + country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” He concluded by + informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children + carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother’s + room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they + saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to + the post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint + a copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, + and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the + next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of + the family were astir. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city + with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and + all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that + demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I + had not concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would + have made her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind + heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told + her all the particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was + necessary for her to know how I was situated. I had once left her + abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do + it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness + of my face attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, + I poured out my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true + womanly sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. + How my heart blessed her! + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. + They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great + if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house + of one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my + brother could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my + thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was + also mine by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that + made her so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. + Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my + entreaties, on condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided + making any promise. She came to me clad in very thin garments, all + outgrown, and with a school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. + It was late in October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring + to go out in the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel + skirt and converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me + good by, and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, + the tears came to her eyes. She said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. + She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of + such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go + to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in + that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers + that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. + </p> + <p> + We reached the + steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I + knew that colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very + desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure + to the night air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting + on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular + favor, that she would treat us well. He said to me, “Go and speak to the + captain yourself by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure + that he will not let her sleep on deck.” With these kind words and a shake + of the hand he departed. + </p> + <p> + The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home + where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to + purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he + would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave + me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner + I said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot + possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter.” She assured me + there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were + allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much + travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain’s office, + and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the + hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our + tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was + contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he + would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he + was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the + boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came + afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that + he had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very + much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether the + pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the + stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, and + had pleaded with him in my behalf. + </p> + <p> + When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and + showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to + take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on + toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we + reached Boston in safety. + </p> + <p> + The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if + I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during + many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed + their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a + swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + </p> + <p> + I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, + that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to + Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me + for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her + age, so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her + myself till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter + passed pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with + their books. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVII. A Visit To England + </h2> + <p> + In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in + this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. + I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. + Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s relatives in + England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little + motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she + would be happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn + more in this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and + left Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + </p> + <p> + We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage + of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the + Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had + seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. + For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated + according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as + if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a + pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, + for the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, + unadulterated freedom. + </p> + <p> + As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the + wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed + through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in + our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days + with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to + accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English + education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight + in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates + and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good + management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did + not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like + all children—sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + </p> + <p> + We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be + the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six + shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and + sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they + lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a + woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of + meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the + cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the + United States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of + the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among + the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched + cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant + among them was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves + in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while + the stars were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through + heat and cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very + humble; but they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in + the dead of night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he + closed his cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master + or overseer could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They + must separate to earn their living; but the parents knew where their + children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The + relations of husband and wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the + richest noble in the land to violate with impunity. Much was being done to + enlighten these poor people. Schools were established among them, and + benevolent societies were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. + There was no law forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they + helped each other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of + thirty-nine lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle + Fred. I repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these + peasants was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American + slave. + </p> + <p> + I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to + paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the + condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of <i>my</i> + experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If + she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the + fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation + in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her + tell quite a different story. + </p> + <p> + My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my + having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous + manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in + my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; + and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the + gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole + service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in + the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of + his daily life inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian + professions. Grace entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I + trust, in true humility of soul. + </p> + <p> + I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had + anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of + prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came + for us to return to America. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + </h2> + <p> + We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to + rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be + afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I + hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and + improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had + been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every + thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his + fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they + had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at once + transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were + Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their + dignity to have a “nigger” among them, after they had been told that he <i>was</i> + a “nigger.” They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that + he returned the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too + spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do + something to support himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped + for a whaling voyage. When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and + bitterly reproached myself for having left him so long. But I had done it + for the best, and now all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to + guide and protect him. + </p> + <p> + Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily + Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + </p> + <p class="preserve"> + “In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress.”</p> + <p> + Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I + felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such + professions. + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“‘Come up into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly;</div> + <div class="i1">‘’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.’”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, since + they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from + them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in + future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education + of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, + but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a + piece of property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and + during that time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many + comforts in food and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but + though Dr. Flint had incurred no expense for their support, he had + received a large sum of money for them. I knew the law would decide that I + was his property, and would probably still give his daughter a claim to my + children; but I regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had + no rights that I was bound to respect. + </p> + <p> + The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts + had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so + called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I + relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware + that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIX. The Confession. + </h2> + <p> + For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. + At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a + boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with + her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two + little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish + feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we + had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her + father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a + shrinking dread of diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have + curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was + always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now + that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, + she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the + palliating circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the + subject, her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + </p> + <p> + When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to leave + you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve + myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + </p> + <p> + I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, + solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; I + have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, + and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they + had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and + exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, + and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five + months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as + he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for + Fanny’s nurse told me so; but she said I must never tell any body, and I + never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he + did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I + thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl + then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any thing about my + father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I + thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not + diminished the affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she + knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her + long before; for my pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves + out to some one I could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the + delicacy she had manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the + village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if + all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I + was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, + requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my + return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an + anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of + some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried + it, but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, + but the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I + passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical + believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a + man’s worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those + beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + </h2> + <p> + My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to + California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen + liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her + history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make + capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered + that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase + her advantages and diminish her expenses. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I + preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from + Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling + little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a + cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl + now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was + proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one + hesitation, and that was my feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly + increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to + try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. + Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic influences, and still + living in the midst of them; but if she had any prejudice against color, I + was never made aware of it; and as for the system of slavery, she had a + most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry of Southerners could blind her to + its enormity. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. + To me, from that hour to the present, she has been a true and sympathizing + friend. Blessings be with her and hers! + </p> + <p> + About the time that I reëntered the Bruce family, an event occurred of + disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first + fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of + the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign + of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl + of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals of the + poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of + Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted + colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from + Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, + fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made + herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a + hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in + Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that + her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. + Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery + years ago, and as “the child follows the condition of its mother,” the + children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. + Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. + But what cared the legislators of the “dominant race” for the blood they + were crushing out of trampled hearts? + </p> + <p> + When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to + California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our + oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I + seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our + oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did + not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by + his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent + and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; + and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the + family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What + a disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of + offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be + condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for + protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu + vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their + persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the + newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I + did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might + be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if + necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that + “knowledge should be increased.” + </p> + <p> + This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly + relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to + a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter + heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was + included in the son’s portion. This young man became a prey to the vices + growing out of the “patriarchal institution,” and when + he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with + him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive + dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose + despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own + helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial + occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel + beside the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. + Some days he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to + be in readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving + more or less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town + constable was sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from + experience how much more the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than + the comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew + weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in + constant requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s + care, and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring + any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to + increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere + degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of + despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable + was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy + to be repeated. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke + still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + </p> + <p> + One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was + hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man + approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I + recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had + escaped from the black pit; but, remembering this poor fellow’s extreme hardships, I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern + soil, though I no longer called it <i>free</i> soil. I well remembered + what a desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up + to him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I + mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive + Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was a city of + kidnappers. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I runned + away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem + speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain’t + sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk good car + ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis nigger.” + </p> + <p> + He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. + I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon it, I + hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days fur dem + cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger + had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he + lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil + would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his money ’long too. So I tuk + some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he + was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” + With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see I didn’t <i>steal</i> it; + dey <i>gub</i> it to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de + speculator from findin it; but he didn’t git it.” + </p> + <p> + This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. + When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws + sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard + to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat + enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused + Luke, in thinking he had a <i>right</i> to that money, as a portion of his + unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from + him. + </p> + <p> + All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children + out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. + I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their + appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws + as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called + free! + </p> + <p> + Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew + of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me + caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s + children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which + slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at + their cupidity and mean servility. + </p> + <p> + I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt + measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied + immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should + carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for + the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how + few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a + fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of + the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice + she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, “It is + better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your + track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there + is a possibility of saving you, you shall be saved.” + </p> + <p> + This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many + respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for + harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her + country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, “I am + very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. + Shame on my country that it <i>is</i> so! I am ready to incur the penalty. + I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have any poor victim torn + from <i>my</i> house, to be carried back to slavery.” + </p> + <p> + The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write + of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my + persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a + senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable + gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the + senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was strongly opposed + to it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me + remain in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I + remained a month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint’s + emissaries had lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, + I returned to New York. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XLI. Free At Last. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I + was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a + cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was + doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to + breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; + and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized + country. + </p> + <p> + From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could + not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an + extract from one of her last letters:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + “Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God’s children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother.” +</div> + <p> + These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have + tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her + messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I + mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned + from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she + wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! + I hope he made his peace with God.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she + had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress + had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to + myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely + forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master’s + death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the + grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his + memory is odious now. + </p> + <p> + His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had + threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after + he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of his + survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I + supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried several + children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. The doctor + had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to will to his + heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I was well aware + what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my fears were + confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my guard, + because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not afford to + lose so valuable a slave as I was. + </p> + <p> + I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, + being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I + went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy + about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list + of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine + the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. + and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, + and that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that + they were short of funds and had need of my value, as <i>they</i> valued + me; and that was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. + Bruce. Her heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and + she always warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how + near the enemy was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we + were sleeping. He might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I + ventured out of doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, + and therefore I could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A + carriage was hastily ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, + taking the baby again with me into exile. After various turnings and + crossings, and returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of + Mrs. Bruce’s friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned + immediately, to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to + inquire for me. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had + a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. + Bruce’s return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. + One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said + he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in + person. + </p> + <p> + They were told, “She <i>has</i> lived here, but she has left.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she went?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee + pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. + He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and + married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and + the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to + remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had + become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for + support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should + make an effort to put me into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most + implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge + had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make + inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint’s family + were well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, + and he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. + Dodge’s room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly + inquired, “What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to + ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give + any offence.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “What girl, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s + plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to + buy her freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would + go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her + freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn’t + do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her + children.” + </p> + <p> + This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. + My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I + received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in + the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business + was very plain. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. + She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me + might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an + earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, + disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been + chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to + end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring + to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for + afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, “Will the + preachers take for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the + opening of prison doors to them that are bound’? or will they preach from + the text, ‘Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you’?” Oppressed + Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell + was free to proclaim in the City Hall his desire for “a plantation well + stocked with slaves;” but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring + to show my face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on + that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, “Oppression makes even a wise man + mad;” and I was not wise. + </p> + <p> + I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her + right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This + it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. + Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young + daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had + suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger’s when a + hunter tries to seize her young. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned + away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations + unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o’clock in the evening + arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend + became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk + for my journey—trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. + I yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + </p> + <p> + The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New + England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to + me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, + informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she + intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt + grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not + so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become + enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an + article of property; and to pay money to those who had so grievously + oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I + wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being sold from one + owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such a great + obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my + brother in California. + </p> + <p> + Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter + into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars + down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish + all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my + master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The + gentleman replied, “You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this + offer you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will + convey her and her children out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he + agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief + letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your + freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you + and my sweet babe.” + </p> + <p> + My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s + true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words + struck me like a blow. So I was <i>sold</i> at last! A human being <i>sold</i> + in the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future + generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New + York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may + hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to + measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well know the + value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to + look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, + but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully + belonged to him or his. + </p> + <p> + I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when + it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary + shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil + my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have + met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he + might have mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to + sell me for three hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and + our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, I’m <i>so</i> + glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be + transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your + services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail + for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of + knowing that you left me a free woman.” + </p> + <p> + My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried + to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I + hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old + grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and + how often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old + heart would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that + we were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God + had raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the + precious, long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly + used. Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by + careless handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word + is sacred. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a + letter came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease from + troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + </p> + <p> + Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an + obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of + such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of + his friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid him low, + they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to + the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not + require man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they called a + colored man a <i>citizen</i>! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + </p> + <p> + Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I + and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of + slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and though that, + according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast + improvement in <i>my</i> condition. The dream of my life is not yet + realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own. I still long + for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children’s + sake far more than for my own. But God so orders circumstances as to keep + me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her + side. It is a privilege to serve her who pities my oppressed people, and + who has bestowed the inestimable boon of freedom on me and my children. + </p> + <p> + It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I + passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the + retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy + recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, + fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of + Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by + friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the + preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her + hospitable roof. + </p> +<div class='right smallcaps'>L.M.C.</div> +<p class="preserve"> + “The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister’s life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, “You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read.” Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been <i>bought</i> was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: ‘I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me <i>that</i> freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant.’ +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. +</p> +<div class="right smallcaps">Amy Post.</div> +<p class="preserve"> + “Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859.” +</p> +<p> + The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable + colored citizen of Boston. + </p> + <div class='right smallcaps'>L.M.C.</div> + +<div class="preserve"> + “This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years’ concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. +</div> +<div class="right smallcaps">George W. Lowther.”</div> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + + diff --git a/11030-h/images/cover.jpg b/11030-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b8cb1b --- /dev/null +++ b/11030-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a03cb05 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11030 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11030) diff --git a/old/11030-0.txt b/old/11030-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9daf02c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11030-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7775 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 *** +[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.] + + + INCIDENTS + IN THE + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + + WRITTEN BY HERSELF. + +“Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual +bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of _degradation_ +involved in that word, Slavery; if they had, they would never cease their +efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + + A Woman of North Carolina. + + +“Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! +Give ear unto my speech.” + + Isaiah xxxii. 9. + + + Edited By L. Maria Child. + + Boston: + Published For The Author. + 1861. + + + + + Preface by the Author + + +Reader, be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my +adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. +I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, my +descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of +places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on +my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to +pursue this course. + +I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my +readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was +born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven +years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to work +diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This has +not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities to +improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregular +intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties. + +When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a +sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an +undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I +still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what +might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in +order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been +more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I +care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire to +arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of two +millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I +suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that of +abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery really +is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul is +that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfect +effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + + Linda Brent. + + + + + Introduction by the Editor + + +The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and +her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last +seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a +distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be +highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further +credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be +disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are more +romantic than fiction. + +At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have +made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement. +I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of her +very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and the +language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I had +no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her own +story. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for good +reasons I suppress them. + +It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be +able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first +place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, +with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate +friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in +favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent +intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her +welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + +I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these +pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and +much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, and +others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been kept +veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous +features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with +the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who +are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to +them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women +at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence on +the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hope +that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before God +that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shall +ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and +cruelty. + + L. Maria Child. + + + + + Contents + + + Childhood + + The New Master And Mistress + + The Slaves’ New Year’s Day + + The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man + + The Trials Of Girlhood + + The Jealous Mistress + + The Lover + + What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North + + Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders + + A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life + + The New Tie To Life + + Fear Of Insurrection + + The Church And Slavery + + Another Link To Life + + Continued Persecutions + + Scenes At The Plantation + + The Flight + + Months Of Peril + + The Children Sold + + New Perils + + The Loophole Of Retreat + + Christmas Festivities + + Still In Prison + + The Candidate For Congress + + Competition In Cunning + + Important Era In My Brother’s Life + + New Destination For The Children + + Aunt Nancy + + Preparations For Escape + + Northward Bound + + Incidents In Philadelphia + + The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter + + A Home Found + + The Old Enemy Again + + Prejudice Against Color + + The Hairbreadth Escape + + A Visit To England + + Renewed Invitations To Go South + + The Confession + + The Fugitive Slave Law + + Free At Last + + Appendix + + + + + INCIDENTS + IN THE + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL, + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED. + + + * * * * * + + + + + I. Childhood + + +I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy +childhood had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so +intelligent and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the +common line were to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, +to be head workman. On condition of paying his mistress two hundred +dollars a year, and supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his +trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase +his children; but, though he several times offered his hard earnings +for that purpose, he never succeeded. In complexion my parents were a +light shade of brownish yellow, and were termed mulattoes. They lived +together in a comfortable home; and, though we were all slaves, I was +so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece of merchandise, +trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to be demanded of them at +any moment. I had one brother, William, who was two years younger than +myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had also a great treasure in my +maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in many respects. She +was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at his death, +left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St. +Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary +War; and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold +to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to +tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little +girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. +I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. +But as she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so +faithful, that her master and mistress could not help seeing it was +for their interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property. +She became an indispensable personage in the household, officiating in +all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much +praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in +the neighborhood that many people were desirous of obtaining them. In +consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked permission +of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the household +work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she would +clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, +after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight +bakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved +profitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a +fund to purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was +divided among his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel, which +she continued to keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as +a slave; but her children were divided among her master’s children. As +she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each +heir might have an equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so +little difference in our ages that he seemed more like my brother than +my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited +the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. +Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars were paid +for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother; but she was +naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting +in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up +three hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, +promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or +writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern +laws, a slave, _being_ property, can _hold_ no property. When my +grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely +to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + +To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother +Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and +preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were +indebted to her for many more important services. + +Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. +When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first +time, I learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My +mother’s mistress was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She +was the foster sister of my mother; they were both nourished at my +grandmother’s breast. In fact, my mother had been weaned at three +months old, that the babe of the mistress might obtain sufficient +food. They played together as children; and, when they became women, +my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. On +her death-bed her mistress promised that her children should never +suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she kept her word. They +all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely in +name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my +young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of +me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with +her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable +duties were imposed upon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was +always glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as +my young years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing +diligently, with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born +white child. When she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run +and jump; and away I bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate +her room. Those were happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had +no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely +waits on every human being born to be a chattel. + +When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. +As I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I +prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been +almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, +and they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my +tears fell upon her grave. + +I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to +begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what +they would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress +so kind as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that +her children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered +that, and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not +help having some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were +almost certain it would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, +on account of my mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all +know that the memory of a faithful slave does not avail much to save +her children from the auction block. + +After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and +we learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child +of five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me +the precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” +“Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto +them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as +her neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one +great wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the +happy days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of +this act of injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and +spell; and for this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a +slave, I bless her memory. + +She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all +distributed among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s +children, and had shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s +children. Notwithstanding my grandmother’s long and faithful service to +her owners, not one of her children escaped the auction block. These +God-breathing machines are no more, in the sight of their masters, than +the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend. + + + + + II. The New Master And Mistress. + + +Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of +my mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It +was not without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what +added to my unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was +purchased by the same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by +the habit of transacting business as a skilful mechanic, had more of +the feelings of a freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was +a spirited boy; and being brought up under such influences, he early +detested the name of master and mistress. One day, when his father and +his mistress both happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated +between the two; being perplexed to know which had the strongest claim +upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my +father reproved him for it, he said, “You both called me, and I didn’t +know which I ought to go to first.” + +“You are _my_ child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you +should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + +Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a +master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they +found an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + +When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and +cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I +moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + +I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was +buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her +only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that +I still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, +“Come with me, Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad +had happened. She led me apart from the people, and then said, “My +child, your father is dead.” Dead! How could I believe it? He had died +so suddenly I had not even heard that he was sick. I went home with +my grandmother. My heart rebelled against God, who had taken from me +mother, father, mistress, and friend. The good grandmother tried to +comfort me. “Who knows the ways of God?” said she. “Perhaps they have +been kindly taken from the evil days to come.” Years afterwards I often +thought of this. She promised to be a mother to her grandchildren, so +far as she might be permitted to do so; and strengthened by her love, +I returned to my master’s. I thought I should be allowed to go to my +father’s house the next morning; but I was ordered to go for flowers, +that my mistress’s house might be decorated for an evening party. I +spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, while +the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared +my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, they +thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they +were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach; +presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + +The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my +dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected +his memory. + +My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little +slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about +the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I +tried to comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days +will come by and by.” + +“You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have +to stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + +I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we +might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could +earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to +say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to _buy_ his freedom. We +held daily controversies upon this subject. + +Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. +If they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. +I gave myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I +passed my grandmother’s house, where there was always something to +spare for me. I was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped +there; and my grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the +gate with something for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to +_her_ for all my comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor +that supplied my scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the +linsey-woolsey dress given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated +it! It was one of the badges of slavery. + +While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard +earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were +never repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was +appointed executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he +said the estate was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did +not, however, prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which +had been purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down +in the family, from generation to generation. + +My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, +she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the +promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful +old servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she +should be sold. + +On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, +proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, +&c.” Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to +wound her feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would +prefer to dispose of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through +his hypocrisy; she understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. +She was a very spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, +when her mistress intended she should be free, she was determined the +public should know it. She had for a long time supplied many families +with crackers and preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was +called, was generally known, and every body who knew her respected +her intelligence and good character. Her long and faithful service in +the family was also well known, and the intention of her mistress to +leave her free. When the day of sale came, she took her place among +the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon the auction-block. +Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! Who is going to sell _you_, +aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is no place for _you_.” Without +saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At +last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” It came from a maiden lady, +seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother’s deceased mistress. +She had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she +knew how faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had +been defrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The +auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no +one bid above her. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill +of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence +was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She +gave the old servant her freedom. + +At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years +had passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man +who had defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her +freedom. One of my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a +slave in his family. She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the +place of both housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in +fact, at the beginning and end of every thing. + +Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. +She had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her +nerves were so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a +woman whipped, till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. +She was a member of the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did +not seem to put her in a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not +served at the exact time on that particular Sunday, she would station +herself in the kitchen, and wait till it was dished, and then spit in +all the kettles and pans that had been used for cooking. She did this +to prevent the cook and her children from eking out their meagre fare +with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. The slaves could +get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them. Provisions were +weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a day. I can assure you +she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from her flour barrel. She +knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, and exactly what +size they ought to be. + +Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table +without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to +his liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to +eat every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature +might not have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her +master cram it down her throat till she choked. + +They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was +ordered to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when +his head was held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the +basin. He died a few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said +the mush had not been well cooked, and that was the reason the animal +would not eat it. He sent for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. +He thought that the woman’s stomach was stronger than the dog’s; but +her sufferings afterwards proved that he was mistaken. This poor woman +endured many cruelties from her master and mistress; sometimes she was +locked up, away from her nursing baby, for a whole day and night. + +When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation +slaves was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night +when he arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work +house, and tied up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape +the ground. In that situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken +his tea. I shall never forget that night. Never before, in my life, +had I heard hundreds of blows fall, in succession, on a human being. +His piteous groans, and his “O, pray don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for +months afterwards. There were many conjectures as to the cause of this +terrible punishment. Some said master accused him of stealing corn; +others said the slave had quarrelled with his wife, in presence of the +overseer, and had accused his master of being the father of her child. +They were both black, and the child was very fair. + +I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet +with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, +and continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. +Flint handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their +value into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they +were out of sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the +trader’s hands, she said, “You _promised_ to treat me well.” To which +he replied, “You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had +forgotten that it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of +her child. + +From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I +once saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child +nearly white. In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” +Her mistress stood by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You +suffer, do you?” she exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, +and more too.” + +The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my +poor child will soon be in heaven, too.” + +“Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like +of her and her bastard.” + +The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, +feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, +mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + +Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt +unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was +still on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black +woman had but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while +she thanked God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + + + + + III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + + +Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about +fifty slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + +Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, +the slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they +work until the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. +Some masters give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they +work until Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought +against them, they are given four or five holidays, whichever the +master or overseer may think proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and +they gather together their little alls, or more properly speaking, +their little nothings, and wait anxiously for the dawning of day. +At the appointed hour the grounds are thronged with men, women, and +children, waiting, like criminals, to hear their doom pronounced. The +slave is sure to know who is the most humane, or cruel master, within +forty miles of him. + +It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves +well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me +this year. I will work _very_ hard, massa.” + +If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or +locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run +away during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking +it justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is +caught! The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his +stiffened limbs are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days +and days! + +If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire +him again, without even giving him an opportunity of going to the +hiring-ground. After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are +called up. + +O, you happy free women, contrast _your_ New Year’s day with that of +the poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of +the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are +showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften +at this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you +a happy New Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise +their rosy lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that +of death can take them from you. + +But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar +sorrows. She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children +who may all be torn from her the next morning; and often does she +wish that she and they might die before the day dawns. She may be an +ignorant creature, degraded by the system that has brutalized her from +childhood; but she has a mother’s instincts, and is capable of feeling +a mother’s agonies. + +On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the +auction-block. She knew that _some_ of them would be taken from her; +but they took _all_. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and +their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her +children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where +he intended to take them; this he refused to do. How _could_ he, when +he knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the +highest price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard +face lives to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and +exclaimed, “Gone! All gone! Why _don’t_ God kill me?” I had no words +wherewith to comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of +hourly occurrence. + +Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting +rid of _old_ slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I +knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. +She had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners +moved to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any +body who would give twenty dollars for her. + + + + + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + + +Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those +years had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, +though they had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of +knowledge. + +My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan +grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now +mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of +life. She would have been happy could her children have shared them +with her. There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all +slaves. Most earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the +will of God: that He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; +and though it seemed hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + +It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her +children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned +it. We reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should +be situated as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we +always found sweet balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so +sympathizing! She always met us with a smile, and listened with +patience to all our sorrows. She spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously +the clouds gave place to sunshine. There was a grand big oven there, +too, that baked bread and nice things for the town, and we knew there +was always a choice bit in store for us. + +But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to +our hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and +gracefully made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My +brother William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the +word master that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his +confidant. He came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance +in particular. It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the +sunlight dancing here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. +For my master, whose restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day +and night, seeking whom to devour, had just left me, with stinging, +scorching words; words that scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how +I despised him! I thought how glad I should be, if some day when he +walked the earth, it would open and swallow him up, and disencumber the +world of a plague. + +When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command +in _every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and +should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so +strong. + +So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I +neither saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of +William sounded close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look +so sad? I love you. O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems +so cross and unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did.” + +I told him that every body was _not_ cross, or unhappy; that those who +had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love +them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or +mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that +would bring us contentment. + +“Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all +the time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s +difficulty with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother +of master Nicholas had pleased himself with making up stories about +William. Master Nicholas said he should be flogged, and he would do it. +Whereupon he went to work; but William fought bravely, and the young +master, finding he was getting the better of him, undertook to tie his +hands behind him. He failed in that likewise. By dint of kicking and +fisting, William came out of the skirmish none the worse for a few +scratches. + +He continued to discourse, on his young master’s _meanness_; how he +whipped the _little_ boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle +ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he +always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. +One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off +for quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William +was often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he +ought to do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong +to deceive the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the +impositions practised by his young master. I assured him the old man +would not be slow to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would +end. William thought it might with the old man, but not with _him_. He +said he did not mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the +_idea_ of being whipped. + +While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious +of the beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own +shortcomings that urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of +my brother’s God-given nature. I had not lived fourteen years in +slavery for nothing. I had felt, seen, and heard enough, to read the +characters, and question the motives, of those around me. The war of +my life had begun; and though one of God’s most powerless creatures, I +resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + +If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in +Benjamin’s heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of +a girl’s first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to +render me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to +all the petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + +I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of +February. My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with +a new pair. I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and +it still continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, +their creaking grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to +her, and asked what I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I +told her it was my new shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you +put them on again, I’ll throw them into the fire.” + +I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long +distance, on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet +tingled. That night I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the +next day would find me sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking +to find myself quite well! + +I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my +mistress would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the +little imp,” as she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress +that gave rise to such extravagant imaginings. + +Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always +said, “She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I +have no right to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was +still a child, and I could look for no protection from her. I loved +her, and she returned my affection. I once heard her father allude to +her attachment to me; and his wife promptly replied that it proceeded +from fear. This put unpleasant doubts into my mind. Did the child +feign what she did not feel? or was her mother jealous of the mite of +love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must be the latter. I said to +myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + +One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of +spirits. My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I +assured her I was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous +curl of her lip, that she believed I was telling a lie. + +I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such +thorny paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I +sat musing thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, +brother,” said I, “what is the matter this time?” + +“O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + +My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, +Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + +It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not +immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and +began to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally +the master was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown +to the ground his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously +awaited the result. + +That night I stole to my grandmother’s house, and Benjamin also stole +thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or +two with an old friend living in the country. + +“I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + +I inquired where. + +“To the north,” he replied. + +I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his +firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my +words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke +more galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be +publicly whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and +hardships he must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be +caught and brought back; and that was terrible to think of. + +He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were +not preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we +are dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will +not stay. Let them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + +He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break +your mother’s heart.” + +I repented of my words ere they were out. + +“Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, +“how _could_ you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, +too, cousin Fanny.” + +Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + +Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by +so many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + +It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, +he was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. +The captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed +Benjamin, who was aware that he would be advertised in every port near +his own town. His embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port +they went. There the advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so +exactly answered its description, that the captain laid hold on him, +and bound him in chains. The storm passed, and they proceeded to New +York. Before reaching that port Benjamin managed to get off his chains +and throw them overboard. He escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, +captured, and carried back to his master. + +When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had +fled, great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, +“God’s will be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been +heard from her boy. Yes, news _was_ heard. The master was rejoicing +over a letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + +That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him +led through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, +yet full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to +his mother’s house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of +her distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see +him, and she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might +be as her child had said. + +We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for +years, and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail +door for my grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we +entered the cell not a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” +whispered my grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. +There was a jingle of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an +uncertain light through the bars of the window. We knelt down and took +Benjamin’s cold hands in ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and +Benjamin’s lips were unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. +How vividly does memory bring back that sad night! Mother and son +talked together. He asked her pardon for the suffering he had caused +her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she could not blame his +desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured, he broke +away, and was about casting himself into the river, when thoughts of +_her_ came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did not also +think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the moonlight. He +answered, “No, I did not think of him. When a man is hunted like a wild +beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He forgets every thing in +his struggle to get beyond the reach of the bloodhounds.” + +“Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, +my child, and your master will forgive you.” + +“Forgive me for _what_, mother? For not letting him treat me like a +dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for +nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. +Here I will stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + +The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he +next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t +worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every +thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I +could.” + +She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but +when sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she +learned to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him +to do likewise. + +We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + +Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to +intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin +should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept +in jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for +him. However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were +taken off, and we were allowed to visit him. + +As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as +possible a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the +jailer. + +Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a +purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of +indecorum was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to +re-chain him. He was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, +who were covered with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and +was soon covered with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded +in getting out of them. He passed them through the bars of the window, +with a request that they should be taken to his master, and he should +be informed that he was covered with vermin. + +This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our +visits. + +My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The +old ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother +still begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither +persuasion nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly +answered, “I am waiting his time.” + +Those chains were mournful to hear. + +Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We +that loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave +trader had bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought +when ten years of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and +sold for three hundred dollars. The master had been blind to his own +interest. Long confinement had made his face too pale, his form too +thin; moreover, the trader had heard something of his character, and it +did not strike him as suitable for a slave. He said he would give any +price if the handsome lad was a girl. We thanked God that he was not. + +Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they +fastened the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her +heart-rending groans, and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from +face to face, vainly pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that +scene as I saw it, you would exclaim, _Slavery is damnable_! Benjamin, +her youngest, her pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She +had had an interview with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if +Benjamin could be purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had +given bonds not to sell him till he was out of the state. He promised +that he would not sell him till he reached New Orleans. + +With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work +of love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would +still be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night +she labored. The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was +not discouraged. + +She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New +Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he +willingly favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his +business, he thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before +making the trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price +for him, and had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another +effort for freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was +missing. He was riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + +For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion +that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been +followed out to the letter, and the _thing_ rendered back to slavery. +The brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. +Benjamin was taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three +weeks. His strength was slow in returning; and his desire to continue +his journey seemed to retard his recovery. How could he get strength +without air and exercise? He resolved to venture on a short walk. A +by-street was selected, where he thought himself secure of not being +met by any one that knew him; but a voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my +boy! what are you doing _here_?” + +His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could +not stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood +his old master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with +him now; but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed +a goodly number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic +clock, whose ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + +“Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I +gave you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch +you. You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way +rejoicing for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place +plaguy quick, for there are several gentlemen here from our town.” He +described the nearest and safest route to New York, and added, “I shall +be glad to tell your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + +Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the +town he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + +This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern +lady. On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, +and of the service he had rendered him. + +Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until +he had gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that +my grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on +business for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. +You may be sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, +“I am here at last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost +in sight of free land, and how he prayed that he might live to get +one breath of free air. He said life was worth something now, and it +would be hard to die. In the old jail he had not valued it; once, he +was tempted to destroy it; but something, he did not know what, had +prevented him; perhaps it was fear. He had heard those who profess to +be religious declare there was no heaven for self-murderers; and as +his life had been pretty hot here, he did not desire a continuation of +the same in another world. “If I die now,” he exclaimed, “thank God, I +shall die a freeman!” + +He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with +him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him +it would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had +pledged her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. +Would he be bought? + +“No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far +out of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you +suppose I would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I +would let her pay all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to +see me? For you know she will stay south as long as her other children +are slaves. What a good mother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have +been a comfort to her, and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor +Linda; what’ll become of her? Phil, you don’t know what a life they +lead her. She has told me something about it, and I wish old Flint was +dead, or a better man. When I was in jail, he asked her if she didn’t +want _him_ to ask my master to forgive me, and take me home again. She +told him, No; that I didn’t want to go back. He got mad, and said we +were all alike. I never despised my own master half as much as I do +that man. There is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but for all +that I would not be his slave.” + +While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes +to pay necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I +fastened in his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I +owned, and I thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + +His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + +They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, +“Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard +from him again. + +Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered +the house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She +stood looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe +it?” he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her +hands, and exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped +on her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must +sit down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her +all; only he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. +Why should he distress her when she could do him no good? + +The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her +other children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She +paid eight hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document +that secured his freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the +old hearthstone that night, telling how proud they were of each other, +and how they would prove to the world that they could take care of +themselves, as they had long taken care of others. We all concluded by +saying, “He that is _willing_ to be a slave, let him be a slave.” + + + + + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + + +During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was +accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. +Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and +tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. +But I now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a +slave girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as +I was, I could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat +them with indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, +and the fear that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, +made him bear this treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, +and resorted to many means to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he +had stormy, terrific ways, that made his victims tremble; sometimes +he assumed a gentleness that he thought must surely subdue. Of the +two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they left me trembling. +He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother had +instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such as only a +vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust and hatred. +But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same roof with +him—where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the most +sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I +must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the +mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether +the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In +either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from +violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who +bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless +victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy and +rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, +are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would willingly +believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are told +you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, +you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would +refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work +which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at +the south. + +Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in +slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even +the little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her +children, will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that +her mistress hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the +child’s own mother is among those hated ones. She listens to violent +outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot help understanding what is +the cause. She will become prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon +she will learn to tremble when she hears her master’s footfall. She +will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. If God has +bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. That which +commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradation of +the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery +to feel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it +most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much +I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained +by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I +belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel +me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after +a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my +mother’s grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart +which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other +slaves in my master’s house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; +but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew +too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that +to speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + +I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to +have laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all +my troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as +silent as the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to +me, I feared her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look +up to her with a respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and +felt shamefaced about telling her such impure things, especially as I +knew her to be very strict on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman +of a high spirit. She was usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if +her indignation was once roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had +been told that she once chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, +because he insulted one of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of +a violent outbreak; and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though +I did not confide in my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant +watchfulness and inquiry, her presence in the neighborhood was some +protection to me. Though she had been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid +of her. He dreaded her scorching rebukes. Moreover, she was known and +patronized by many people; and he did not wish to have his villany +made public. It was lucky for me that I did not live on a distant +plantation, but in a town not so large that the inhabitants were +ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the laws and customs in a +slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, deemed it +prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + +O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! +Reader, it is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you +truthfully what I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of +compassion in your hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, +suffering as I once suffered. + +I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair +white child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw +them embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned +sadly away from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that +would fall on the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter +would be changed to sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer +woman. From childhood to womanhood her pathway was blooming with +flowers, and overarched by a sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life +had been clouded when the sun rose on her happy bridal morning. + +How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate +of her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and +sunshine of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, +and misery, whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + +In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of +the north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? +Would that I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is +so weak! There are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to +help those who cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them +strength and courage to go on! God bless those, every where, who are +laboring to advance the cause of humanity! + + + + + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + + +I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the +half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among +the slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton +plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with +an unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a +penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of +his ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. +She is not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime +in her to wish to be virtuous. + +Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was +born. She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen +the young and the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had +no sympathy. They were the objects of her constant suspicion and +malevolence. She watched her husband with unceasing vigilance; but +he was well practised in means to evade it. What he could not find +opportunity to say in words he manifested in signs. He invented more +than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb asylum. I let them pass, +as if I did not understand what he meant; and many were the curses +and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day he caught me +teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well pleased; +but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an accomplishment +might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, notes were +often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I can’t read +them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to you.” He +always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” Sometimes +he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his supper to +be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself there +with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away the +flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These +intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly +throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally +awaited my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he +had exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his +patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk +to me at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. +When there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he +saw fit to address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt +for him that he would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he +did not strike me. Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was +better policy to be forbearing. But the state of things grew worse and +worse daily. In desperation I told him that I must and would apply to +my grandmother for protection. He threatened me with death, and worse +than death, if I made any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not +despair. I was naturally of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a +hope of somehow getting out of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple +slave before me, I trusted that some threads of joy would yet be woven +into my dark destiny. + +I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent +that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently +passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, +and he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she +was never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile +for her to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had +far more pity for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life +happy. I never wronged her, or wished to wrong her; and one word of +kindness from her would have brought me to her feet. + +After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced +his intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to +sleep in his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in +the same room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for +that office, and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been +made. By managing to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, +during the day time, I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, +though a razor was often held to my throat to force me to change this +line of policy. At night I slept by the side of my great aunt, where +I felt safe. He was too prudent to come into her room. She was an old +woman, and had been in the family many years. Moreover, as a married +man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessary to save appearances +in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstacle in the way of +his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that he should evade +suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge by the side of +my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. The first night +the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next morning, +I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A kind +Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of +this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. + +After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first +question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Who told you?” + +“My master.” + +“Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I +have accused you?” + +“I am.” + +She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss +this holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + +I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + +“You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. +“If you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look +me directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your +master and you.” + +I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed +frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, +that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was +soon convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. +She felt that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; +but she had no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. +She pitied herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for +the condition of shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless +slave was placed. Yet perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; +for when the conference was ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to +protect me. I should have been much comforted by this assurance if I +could have had confidence in it; but my experiences in slavery had +filled me with distrust. She was not a very refined woman, and had not +much control over her passions. I was an object of her jealousy, and, +consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not expect kindness +or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I was placed. +I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women would +under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from small +sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was obliged +to give up his intended arrangement. + +I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it +afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid +she rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in +a room adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, +though not of her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless +night to watch over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending +over me. At other times she whispered in my ear, as though it was +her husband who was speaking to me, and listened to hear what I +would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she would glide +stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had been +talking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began +to be fearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can +imagine, better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it +must produce to wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman +bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it +would give place to one more terrible. + +My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. +She changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master +of crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the +accusation. To my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe +it; but if she did acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing +me.” Tortured into exposing him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in +distinguishing the color of his soul! I understood his object in making +this false representation. It was to show me that I gained nothing by +seeking the protection of my mistress; that the power was still all in +his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was a second wife, many years +the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headed miscreant was enough +to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. She was completely +foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly have had me +flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated, the +doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic. +The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have +exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often +did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew +each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the +multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + +The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. +My master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did +the mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the +other slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? +No, indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + +My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her +suspicions. She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; +but the never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not +belong to _me_. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal +right to sell her.” The conscientious man! He was too scrupulous +to _sell_ me; but he had no scruples whatever about committing a +much greater wrong against the helpless young girl placed under his +guardianship, as his daughter’s property. Sometimes my persecutor would +ask me whether I would like to be sold. I told him I would rather be +sold to any body than to lead such a life as I did. On such occasions +he would assume the air of a very injured individual, and reproach me +for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into the house, and make you +the companion of my own children?” he would say. “Have I ever treated +you like a negro? I have never allowed you to be punished, not even to +please your mistress. And this is the recompense I get, you ungrateful +girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for screening me from +punishment, and that the course he pursued made my mistress hate me and +persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! Don’t cry! don’t +cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only let me arrange +matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know what is for +your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you. Now go, +and think of all I have promised you.” + +I did think of it. + +Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling +you the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from this wild +beast of Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, +and hunt the poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s +bones, and all uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, +but proud, to give their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. +The poor girls have romantic notions of a sunny clime, and of the +flowering vines that all the year round shade a happy home. To what +disappointments are they destined! The young wife soon learns that the +husband in whose hands she has placed her happiness pays no regard to +his marriage vows. Children of every shade of complexion play with her +own fair babies, and too well she knows that they are born unto him of +his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the flowery home, and it +is ravaged of its loveliness. + +Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of +many little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They +regard such children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the +plantation; and it is seldom that they do not make them aware of this +by passing them into the slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and +thus getting them out of their sight. I am glad to say there are some +honorable exceptions. + +I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to +free those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and +their request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior +nobleness of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them +to do that which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, +and rendered their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, +and confidence took the place of distrust. + +Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white +women, to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have +heard southern ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it +no disgrace to be the father of those little niggers, but he is not +ashamed to call himself their master. I declare, such things ought not +to be tolerated in any decent society!” + + + + + VII. The Lover. + + +Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to +twine around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the +hand of violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the +pious soul can bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine +be done, O Lord!” But when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, +regardless of the misery he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did +not reason thus when I was a young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved, +and I indulged the hope that the dark clouds around me would turn out +a bright lining. I forgot that in the land of my birth the shadows are +too dense for light to penetrate. A land + + “Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; + Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind. + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, + And each is tortured in his separate hell.” + +There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born +man. We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met +together afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed +to marry me. I loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first +love. But when I reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave +no sanction to the marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My +lover wanted to buy me; but I knew that Dr. Flint was too wilful and +arbitrary a man to consent to that arrangement. From him, I was sure of +experiencing all sorts of opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my +mistress. She would have been delighted to have got rid of me, but not +in that way. It would have relieved her mind of a burden if she could +have seen me sold to some distant state, but if I was married near home +I should be just as much in her husband’s power as I had previously +been,—for the husband of a slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, +my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaves had no right +to any family ties of their own; that they were created merely to wait +upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave +girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I +will have you peeled and pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear +you mention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you +tending _my_ children with the children of that nigger?” The girl to +whom she said this had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by +its father. The poor black man who loved her would have been proud to +acknowledge his helpless offspring. + +Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a +loss what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover +the insults that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my +grandmother about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to +tell her the worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I +confirmed her suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the +overthrow of all my hopes. + +This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could +not bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was +a lady in the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who +often visited the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had +always manifested a friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she +would have great influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and +told her my story. I told her I was aware that my lover’s being a +free-born man would prove a great objection; but he wanted to buy me; +and if Dr. Flint would consent to that arrangement, I felt sure he +would be willing to pay any reasonable price. She knew that Mrs. Flint +disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest that perhaps my mistress +would approve of my being sold, as that would rid her of me. The lady +listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do her utmost to promote +my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and I believe she +pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose. + +How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned +to his presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. +The next morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in +his study.” I found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the +hateful man who claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, +and tried to appear calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was +bleeding. He looked fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to +say, “I have half a mind to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the +silence, and that was a relief to both of us. + +“So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger +fellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take +up with one of my slaves.” + +What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, +even if my heart had been interested! + +I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some +preference about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to +her?” + +“Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight +pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you +felt above the insults of such puppies.” + +I replied, “If he is a puppy I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro +race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you +call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did +not believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + +He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the +first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control +my anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, +“You have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + +There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should +be my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on +what I had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you +know what you have said?” + +“Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + +“Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I can +kill you, if I please?” + +“You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right +to do as you like with me.” + +“Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you +forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you +to your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have +borne from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the +spot. How would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + +“I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me +to it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace +for me there than there is here.” + +“You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, +that you would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do +you good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I +am not ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude +for all my kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my +life. I have wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with +the basest ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable +of appreciating my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I +will give you one more chance to redeem your character. If you behave +yourself and do as I require, I will forgive you and treat you as I +always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punish you as I would +the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear that fellow’s +name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, I will +cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I will +shoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach +you a lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be +the last time I have occasion to speak to you on this subject.” + +Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I +trust I never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of +hell;” and I believe it is so. + +For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify +me; to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the +honorable addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the +base proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address +me, his eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more +narrowly than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had +failed to make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I +should exchange letters with another man. After a while he became weary +of silence; and I was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through +the hall, to leave the house, he contrived to thrust a note into my +hand. I thought I had better read it, and spare myself the vexation +of having him read it to me. It expressed regret for the blow he had +given me, and reminded me that I myself was wholly to blame for it. +He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I was doing myself by +incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up his mind to go +to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, and intended +I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where she was; +therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If I merited +kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishly bestowed. He +begged me to think over the matter, and answer the following day. + +The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. +I laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it +was my answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my +young mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered +me to stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed +me his letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I +am your daughter’s property, and it is in your power to send me, or +take me, wherever you please.” He said he was very glad to find me so +willing to go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a +large practice in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the +story merely to frighten me. However that might be, I was determined +that I would never go to Louisiana with him. + +Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was +sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. +That news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be +sent with _him_. That I had not been taken to the plantation before +this time, was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous +of his son; and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing +me by sending me into the fields to work. Is it strange that I was not +proud of these protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I +had less respect than I had for a bloodhound. + +Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and +I heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the +corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw +my master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with +fear. I was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a +blow. “When is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. +A shower of oaths and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that +my lover was a free man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for +speaking to me in the street! + +Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There +was no hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He +had an iron will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. +My lover was an intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have +obtained permission to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would +give him no power to protect me from my master. It would have made him +miserable to witness the insults I should have been subjected to. And +then, if we had children, I knew they must “follow the condition of the +mother.” What a terrible blight that would be on the heart of a free, +intelligent father! For _his_ sake, I felt that I ought not to link his +fate with my own unhappy destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about +a little property left him by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my +feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not to come back. I advised +him to go to the Free States, where his tongue would not be tied, and +where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. He left me, still +hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With me the lamp of +hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I felt lonely and +desolate. + +Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, +and my affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and +looked into my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, +I felt that I still had something to love. But even that pleasant +emotion was chilled by the reflection that he might be torn from me +at any moment, by some sudden freak of my master. If he had known +how we loved each other, I think he would have exulted in separating +us. We often planned together how we could get to the north. But, as +William remarked, such things are easier said than done. My movements +were very closely watched, and we had no means of getting any money to +defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she was strongly opposed to +her children’s undertaking any such project. She had not forgotten poor +Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if another child tried +to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To me, nothing +seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, “William +_must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him.” Many +a slave sister has formed the same plans. + + + + + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + + +Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were +to hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small +respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I +cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, +they tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe +them to be in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told +me that he had seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she +besought him to take her back to her master, for she was literally +dying of starvation; that many days she had only one cold potato to +eat, and at other times could get nothing at all. He said he refused to +take her, because he knew her master would not thank him for bringing +such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended by saying to me, “This +is the punishment she brought on herself for running away from a kind +master.” + +This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in +New York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never +thought of such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of +the slaves believe such stories, and think it is not worth while to +exchange slavery for such a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to +persuade such that freedom could make them useful men, and enable them +to protect their wives and children. If those heathen in our Christian +land had as much teaching as some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. +They would know that liberty is more valuable than life. They would +begin to understand their own capabilities, and exert themselves to +become men and women. + +But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back +into slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are +some who strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of +their masters; but those who have such sentiments have had advantages +above the general mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized +and Christianized by favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to +_utter_ such sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of +them! + +Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will +sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives +and daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an +inferior order of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born +and brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I +admit that the black man _is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him +so? It is the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is +the torturing whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce +bloodhounds of the South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds +of the north, who enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work. + +Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about +the Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest +work for them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised +negro-hunters are employed to do at home. When southerners go to the +north, they are proud to do them honor; but the northern man is not +welcome south of Mason and Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every +thought and feeling at variance with their “peculiar institution.” +Nor is it enough to be silent. The masters are not pleased, unless +they obtain a greater degree of subservience than that; and they are +generally accommodated. Do they respect the northerner for this? I trow +not. Even the slaves despise “a northern man with southern principles;” +and that is the class they generally see. When northerners go to the +south to reside, they prove very apt scholars. They soon imbibe the +sentiments and disposition of their neighbors, and generally go beyond +their teachers. Of the two, they are proverbially the hardest masters. + +They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God +created the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly +Father, who “made of one blood all nations of men!” And then who _are_ +Africans? Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in +the veins of American slaves? + +I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad +opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are +aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most +ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could +read; and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers +about white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their +freedom for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made +them free, and that it is established by law, but that their masters +prevent the law from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a +newspaper and read it over. She said her husband told her that the +black people had sent word to the queen of ’Merica that they were all +slaves; that she didn’t believe it, and went to Washington city to see +the president about it. They quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, +and swore that he should help her to make them all free. + +That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a +Queen, to whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was +subordinate to Queen Justice. + + + + + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + + +There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call +Mr. Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He +had six hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His +extensive plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a +jail and a whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were +perpetrated there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually +screened by his great wealth that he was called to no account for his +crimes, not even for murder. + +Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a +rope round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was +kindled over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As +this cooked, the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare +flesh. On his own plantation, he required very strict obedience to the +eighth commandment. But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, +provided the culprit managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a +neighbor brought a charge of theft against any of his slaves, he was +browbeaten by the master, who assured him that his slaves had enough of +every thing at home, and had no inducement to steal. No sooner was the +neighbor’s back turned, than the accused was sought out, and whipped +for his lack of discretion. If a slave stole from him even a pound of +meat or a peck of corn, if detection followed, he was put in chains +and imprisoned, and so kept till his form was attenuated by hunger and +suffering. + +A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the +plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles +of wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their +huts. They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a +club felled them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their +interment was a dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + +Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after +nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + +His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His +bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to +the slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if they tracked him, +they literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder +died, his shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his +own friends. His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money +with me.” + +After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver +dollars were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this +circumstance, a rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with +money. Three times his grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The +last time, his body was found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards +were pecking at it. He was again interred, and a sentinel set over his +grave. The perpetrators were never discovered. + +Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a +neighbor of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial +state of intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He +was divested of his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to +a large tree in front of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. +The wind blew bitterly cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled +under falling sleet. A member of the family, fearing he would freeze +to death, begged that he might be taken down; but the master would +not relent. He remained there three hours; and, when he was cut down, +he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole a pig from this +master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In desperation, he +tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so faint with +loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he longed to +see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long distance +on his hands and knees. When he reached his master’s, it was night. +He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried +to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last +his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the +gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men returned +with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of +his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened +it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left +him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When +his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his +hunger. This was his crime. + +Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there +cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the +dawn, and did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her +particular place of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might +of a man. An old slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s +house. ’Pears I can never get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + +The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her +husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. +A slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, +watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where +lay her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand +and dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is +got you _now_!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just +begun to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy +did strike ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The +master was startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain +access to the room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. +He questioned her. She confessed that what the child had said was true, +and told how she had procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + +In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved +her, as all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to +Louisiana. Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. +He became involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy +slaveholder, noted for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to +manhood, receiving the treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, +to save himself from further infliction of the lash, with which he +was threatened, he took to the woods. He was in a most miserable +condition—cut by the cowskin, half naked, half starved, and without the +means of procuring a crust of bread. + +Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to +his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on +bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the +poor slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should +have whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the +screws of the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. +This wretched creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, +then washed with strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, +and make it heal sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into +the cotton gin, which was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn +on his side when he could not lie on his back. Every morning a slave +was sent with a piece of bread and bowl of water, which were placed +within reach of the poor fellow. The slave was charged, under penalty +of severe punishment, not to speak to him. + +Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and +water. On the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water +untouched. When he had been in the press four days and five nights, +the slave informed his master that the water had not been used for +four mornings, and that a horrible stench came from the gin house. The +overseer was sent to examine into it. When the press was unscrewed, the +dead body was found partly eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats +that devoured his bread had gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor +Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each other how her affectionate +heart would bear the news, if she should ever hear of the murder of +her son. We had known her husband, and knew that James was like him in +manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities that made it so +hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a rough box, +and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested for +an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the +feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his +own property. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had +hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must +hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their +pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went his patrol +rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives had +gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall +asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn +called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, +unless they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on +a par with animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, +who had run away and been brought back to him. No one called him to +account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds +were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The +master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a perfect +gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, though +Satan never had a truer follower. + +I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. +They are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are +no humane slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the +hardening influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few +and far between.” + +I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an +orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their +father was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, +parents and children living together. The mother and eldest daughter +served their mistress during the day, and at night returned to their +dwelling, which was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and +there was some reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead +pure lives, and wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. +_Her_ religion was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till +Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was +promised in marriage to a free man; and the day before the wedding this +good mistress emancipated her, in order that her marriage might have +the sanction of _law_. + +Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for +a man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a +rich uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons +by a colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan +niece. The metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty +purse became his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that +her marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she +wished to insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, +saying that she had always been their best friend, and they could not +be so happy any where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often +seen them in their comfortable home, and thought that the whole town +did not contain a happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, +when it was too late, they were convinced of its reality. + +When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father +became furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do +nothing for you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I +had a week ago. I have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; +but I cannot obtain it for your children.” The unhappy father swore +that nobody should take his children from him. He concealed them in the +woods for some days; but they were discovered and taken. The father was +put in jail, and the two oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, +too young to be of service to her master, was left with the wretched +mother. The other three were carried to their master’s plantation. The +eldest soon became a mother, and, when the slaveholder’s wife looked at +the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her own husband had violated +the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She had a second child by +her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to his brother. She +bore two children to the brother, and was sold again. The next sister +went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. The third +one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the fourth +the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to +the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed +away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made +so wretched by the man she loved. + +This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve +his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of +drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good +master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, +and the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many +others. Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, +and his wife a happier woman. + +No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption +produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of +licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and +his sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, +or his sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe +her with presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is +whipped or starved into submission to their will. She may have had +religious principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or +some good mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace +of mind are dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power +over her may be exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + + “The poor worm + Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day + Shall pass, and she is gone!” + +The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by +the unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s +daughters always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him +for the wrongs he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white +daughters early hear their parents quarrelling about some female slave. +Their curiosity is excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are +attended by the young slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and +they hear such talk as should never meet youthful ears, or any other +ears. They know that the women slaves are subject to their father’s +authority in all things; and in some cases they exercise the same +authority over the men slaves. I have myself seen the master of such a +household whose head was bowed down in shame; for it was known in the +neighborhood that his daughter had selected one of the meanest slaves +on his plantation to be the father of his first grandchild. She did +not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her father’s more +intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over whom her +authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her father, +half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending +black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had +given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + +In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen +by any who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, +instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the +market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be +their inevitable destiny. + +You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was +twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my +own experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites +as well as to the blacks. It makes the white fathers cruel and sensual; +the sons violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and +makes the wives wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an +abler pen than mine to describe the extremity of their sufferings, the +depth of their degradation. + +Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin +occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton +crops—not of the blight on their children’s souls. + +If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go +on a southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there +will be no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem +to you impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + + + + + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + + +After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to +have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. +In the blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small +house for me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I +shuddered; but I was constrained to listen, while he talked of his +intention to give me a home of my own, and to make a lady of me. +Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded fate, by being in the midst of +people. My grandmother had already had high words with my master about +me. She had told him pretty plainly what she thought of his character, +and there was considerable gossip in the neighborhood about our +affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs. Flint contributed +not a little. When my master said he was going to build a house for +me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I was in +hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon heard +that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I would +never enter it. I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till +dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day, +through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I +so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and +made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, +succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any +thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? +I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into +the abyss. + +And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would +gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and +shame. It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell +you the truth, and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it +may. I will not try to screen myself behind the plea of compulsion +from a master; for it was not so. Neither can I plead ignorance or +thoughtlessness. For years, my master had done his utmost to pollute my +mind with foul images, and to destroy the pure principles inculcated by +my grandmother, and the good mistress of my childhood. The influences +of slavery had had the same effect on me that they had on other young +girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, concerning the evil +ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with deliberate +calculation. + +But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, +who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes +are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too +severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married +the man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and +I should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now +about to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I +wanted to keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, +I tried hard to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone +in the powerful grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too +strong for me. I felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my +efforts must be frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + +I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy +had given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it +chanced that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge +of the circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, +and often spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and +asked questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed +a great deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought +opportunities to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave +girl, only fifteen years old. + +So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; +for human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his +sympathy, and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great +thing to have such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept +into my heart. He was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, +alas, for the poor slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw +whither all this was tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; +but to be an object of interest to a man who is not married, and who +is not her master, is agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, +if her miserable situation has left her any pride or sentiment. It +seems less degrading to give one’s self, than to submit to compulsion. +There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control +over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment. A +master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare not speak; +moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried man, as +with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry +in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of +morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible. + +When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely +cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and +calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere +gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much +as to know that I favored another; and it was something to triumph over +my tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by +selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was +a man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my +freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now +came so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the +mother of children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that +as soon as a new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get +rid of them; especially if they had children. I had seen several women +sold, with his babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring +by slaves to remain long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man +who was not my master I could ask to have my children well supported; +and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain the boon. I also +felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all these thoughts +revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping the doom I +so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, +O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be +entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to +the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. +You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding +the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his +footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did +wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful and +humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking +back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman +ought not to be judged by the same standard as others. + +The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned +over the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to +shield me from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old +age, and that it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded +myself, like most of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was +no longer worthy of her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + +As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the +thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended +arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the +cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would +never enter it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You +shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + +I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + +He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without +a word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now +that the truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt +wretched. Humble as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good +character. Now, how could I look them in the face? My self-respect was +gone! I had resolved that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I +had said, “Let the storm beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, +how humiliated I felt! + +I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the +words stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door +and began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter +with me. The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no +security for her children. After they have entered their teens she +lives in daily expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If +the girl is of a sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering +truthfully, and this well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from +maternal counsels. Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, +and accused me concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions +had been previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O +Linda! has it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you +as you now are. You are a disgrace to your dead mother.” She tore from +my fingers my mother’s wedding ring and her silver thimble. “Go away!” +she exclaimed, “and never come to my house, again.” Her reproaches fell +so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, +such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from +my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but +the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me +like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I longed +to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had +ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, +I mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did +I now close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager +hand in my childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard +before. + +Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on +recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When +I had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat +down on the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the +boughs above me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! +The hours passed by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly +sickness came over me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid +thoughts. I prayed to die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, +with great effort I roused myself, and walked some distance further, +to the house of a woman who had been a friend of my mother. When I +told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly to me; but I could +not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I could only be +reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to her. I +thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had +been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My +friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing +suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She +came at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had +poisoned my life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way +of escape; and in an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She +listened in silence. I told her I would bear any thing and do any +thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of +her to pity me, for my dead mother’s sake. And she did pity me. She did +not say, “I forgive you;” but she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes +full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my head, and murmured, +“Poor child! Poor child!” + + + + + XI. The New Tie To Life. + + +I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with +Mr. Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe +lamb,—whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about +character,—he made no answer; but he spoke kind and encouraging words. +He promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what +they might. + +I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since +I made the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought +on myself; how I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old +grandmother. He intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as +a physician, could have saved me from exposure. He even condescended +to pity me. Could he have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose +persecutions had been the cause of my sin! + +“Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for +you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the +fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive +me, you shall feel the fires of hell.” + +I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was +gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his +abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had +always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I +might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. +“I have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against +you.” + +He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, +with ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could +grind your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some +worthless rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded +by those who don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle +accounts between us. You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be +convinced that your master was your best friend. My lenity towards you +is a proof of it. I might have punished you in many ways. I might have +had you whipped till you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to +live; I would have bettered your condition. Others cannot do it. You +are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, forbids you to +return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the present; but I +shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + +He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. +After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, +and who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his +duty; that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to +have explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the +most shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. +“I command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your +child is white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he +exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my +arm as if he would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a +hissing tone. + +“I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + +He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what +arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last +he spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; +but your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my +good intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from +killing you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + +But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and +crime. You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the +father of your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive +any thing from him. I will take care of you and your child. You had +better promise this at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. +This is the last act of mercy I shall show towards you.” + +I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a +man who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had +sunk to my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for +the last time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + +“Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward +course. Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always +be my slave. I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + +Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had +calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I +knew the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + +About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. +The day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young +friend. My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did +not betray it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it +had wrought! My heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in +sunshine, and lives that are born in tears, receive their hue from +circumstances. None of us know what a year may bring forth. + +I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see +me, though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but +at last consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he +always had done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my +burning cheeks! The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps +your mother and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My +disappointed heart could now praise God that it was so. But why, +thought I, did my relatives ever cherish hopes for me? What was there +to save me from the usual fate of slave girls? Many more beautiful and +more intelligent than I had experienced a similar fate, or a far worse +one. How could they hope that I should escape? + +My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill +in mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I +was unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, +and I would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing +illness, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as +he entered the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very +critical. He had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + +When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four +pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive +till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to +die, unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able +to leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there +was scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also +was sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint +continued his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to +remind me that my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + +I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks +in silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could +not remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was +made the medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a +bright lad, and of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up +medicines, to leech, cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read +and spell. I was proud of my brother; and the old doctor suspected as +much. One day, when I had not seen him for several weeks, I heard his +steps approaching the door. I dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He +inquired for me, of course; but I was nowhere to be found. He went to +his office, and despatched William with a note. The color mounted to +my brother’s face when he gave it to me; and he said, “Don’t you hate +me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him I could not blame +him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master’s will. The note +ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to know where I +was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a passion, +and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual themes,—my +crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The laws +were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated +that my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would +be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend +me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. This +manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing +to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so early +as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity +to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent +a trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was +greatly incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put +him there to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not +giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to +find somebody to do his office work; but every thing went wrong without +William. He was released, and ordered to take his old stand, with many +threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior. + +As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year +old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in +my existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love +and pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his +smiles. I loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a +dark cloud over my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. +Sometimes I wished that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My +darling became very ill. The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet +and hands were so icy cold that I thought death had already touched +them. I had prayed for his death, but never so earnestly as I now +prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. Alas, what mockery it is +for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying child to life! Death +is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I had no name to give +my child. His father caressed him and treated him kindly, whenever he +had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he should bear his +name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had bestowed it upon +him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a new piece of +insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the serpent of +Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + + + + + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + + +Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the +news threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be +alarmed, when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + +It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion +every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called +country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their +places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some +without hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the +slaves were told there was to be another muster, they were surprised +and rejoiced. Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a +holiday. I was informed of the true state of affairs, and imparted it +to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to +every slave; but I dared not. All could not be relied on. Mighty is the +power of the torturing lash. + +By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty +miles of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I +expected it would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I +knew nothing annoyed them so much as to see colored people living +in comfort and respectability; so I made arrangements for them with +especial care. I arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as +neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, and decorated +some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at +the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on a motley +crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. The +men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. +Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, +wherever a colored face was to be found. + +It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes +of their own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise +a little brief authority, and show their subserviency to the +slaveholders; not reflecting that the power which trampled on the +colored people also kept themselves in poverty, ignorance, and moral +degradation. Those who never witnessed such scenes can hardly believe +what I know was inflicted at this time on innocent men, women, +and children, against whom there was not the slightest ground for +suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts of +the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchers +scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other +parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were +plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were +whipped till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received +five hundred lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured +with a bucking paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings +of the colored people, unless they happened to be protected by some +influential white person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing +and every thing else the marauders thought worth carrying away. +All day long these unfeeling wretches went round, like a troop of +demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At night, they formed +themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they chose among the +colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women hid themselves +in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of the husbands +or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public +whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. +The consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest +tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking together. + +I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were +in the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to +receive the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we +heard the tramp of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely +pushed open; and in they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They +snatched at every thing within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, +and corner underwent a thorough examination. A box in one of the +drawers containing some silver change was eagerly pounced upon. When I +stepped forward to take it from them, one of the soldiers turned and +said angrily, “What d’ye foller us fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come +to steal?” + +I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, +and I will take it, if you please.” + +At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I +called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay +till the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the +house brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was +to guard the outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates +left it. This officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I +mentioned, in the account of neighboring planters, as being notorious +for his cruelty. He felt above soiling his hands with the search. He +merely gave orders; and, if a bit of writing was discovered, it was +carried to him by his ignorant followers, who were unable to read. + +My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that +was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, +“Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + +My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, +said, “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from _your_ houses.” + +“Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you +seem to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White +folks oughter have ’em all.” + +His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got +’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + +There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon +examination, proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In +packing away my things, I had overlooked them. When their captain +informed them of their contents, they seemed much disappointed. He +inquired of me who wrote them. I told him it was one of my friends. +“Can you read them?” he asked. When I told him I could, he swore, and +raved, and tore the paper into bits. “Bring me all your letters!” said +he, in a commanding tone. I told him I had none. “Don’t be afraid,” he +continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them all to me. Nobody shall +do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey him, his pleasant tone +changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? half free niggers?” +inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are from white +people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I +destroy without reading.” + +An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our +conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned +buffet had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of +preserving fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers +for parties; consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet +that contained these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One +of them, who was helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the +shoulder, and said, “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill +all de white folks, when dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I +stretched out my hand to take the jar, saying, “You were not sent here +to search for sweetmeats.” + +“And what _were_ we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. I +evaded the question. + +The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn +us. They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush +and vine, with no better success. The captain called his men together, +and, after a short consultation, the order to march was given. As they +passed out of the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a +malediction on the house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, +and each of its inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of +this affair very fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing +apparel. + +Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated +by drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts +continually rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under +the window curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored +people, each white man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant +death if they did not stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a +respectable old colored minister. They had found a few parcels of shot +in his house, which his wife had for years used to balance her scales. +For this they were going to shoot him on Court House Green. What a +spectacle was that for a civilized country! A rabble, staggering under +intoxication, assuming to be the administrators of justice! + +The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the +innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, +by keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last +the white citizens found that their own property was not safe from the +lawless rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the +drunken swarm, drove them back into the country, and set a guard over +the town. + +The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored +people that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were +committed with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked +out, I saw horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, +and compelled by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they +arrived at the jail yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully +to walk were washed with brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to +jail. One black man, who had not fortitude to endure scourging, +promised to give information about the conspiracy. But it turned out +that he knew nothing at all. He had not even heard the name of Nat +Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a story, which augmented +his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + +The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night +guard was substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored +people, bond or free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat +appeased by the capture of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. +The slaves were sent to their masters, and the free were permitted +to return to their ravaged homes. Visiting was strictly forbidden on +the plantations. The slaves begged the privilege of again meeting at +their little church in the woods, with their burying ground around it. +It was built by the colored people, and they had no higher happiness +than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour out their hearts +in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the church was +demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a certain +portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, when +every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction +had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored +friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, +in commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your +Father, and all ye are brethren.” + + + + + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + + +After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the +slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the +slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering +their masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate +service on Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very +few, and also very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight +with him. The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them +to worship. The Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the +afternoon; but their carpets and cushions were not so costly as those +at the Episcopal church. It was at last decided that they should meet +at the house of a free colored man, who was a member. + +I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, +and, trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured +out by daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn +to encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to +his office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of +dress. When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons +present. The reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, +and requested all present, who could read, to open their books, while +he gave out the portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + +His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters +according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your +heart, as unto Christ.” + +Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, +solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my +words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all +manner of evil. ’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, +and will surely punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You +that live in town are eye-servants behind your master’s back. Instead +of serving your masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of +your heavenly Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. +You tell lies. God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping +him, you are hidden away somewhere, feasting on your master’s +substance; tossing coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or +cutting cards with another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, +but God sees you, and will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! +When your master’s work is done, are you quietly together, thinking of +the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, +and tying up little bags of roots to bury under the door-steps to +poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away to every grog +shop to sell your master’s corn, that you may buy rum to drink. God +sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, to +pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you out, God sees +you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful ways, and be +faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your old +mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, +you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When +you go from here, don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but +go directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have +come.” + +The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother +Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the +next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last +discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he +found it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should +be glad to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + +I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for +the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found +that the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, +since its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any +thing but pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman +descended from his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to +enjoy a Methodist shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and +singing at religious meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to +the gate of heaven than sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced +Christians, who see wounded Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + +The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do +not trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the +following verses: + + “Old Satan is one busy ole man; + He rolls dem blocks all in my way; + But Jesus is my bosom friend; + He rolls dem blocks away. + + “If I had died when I was young, + Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung; + But I am ole, and now I stand + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land.” + +I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. +I went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, +bereaved mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class +leader was the town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who +whipped his brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping +post, in jail or out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian +office any where for fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted +brother came near us, and said to the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t +you tell us how the Lord deals with your soul? Do you love him as you +did formerly?” + +She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, +help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from +me, and I am left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, +she continued, “I can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all +my children. Last week they took the last one. God only knows where +they’ve sold her. They let me have her sixteen years, and then—— O! O! +Pray for her brothers and sisters! I’ve got nothing to live for now. +God make my time short!” + +She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class +leader become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he +held up his handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor +woman’s calamity might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed +gravity, he said to the bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that +every dispensation of his divine will may be sanctified to the good of +your poor needy soul!” + +The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free +as the birds that warbled round us,— + + “Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; + He missed my soul, and caught my sins. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + “He took my sins upon his back; + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + “Ole Satan’s church is here below. + Up to God’s free church I hope to go. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!” + +Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them +at such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of +singing and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling +without wages, under constant dread of the lash? + +The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had +been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was +large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different +clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored +people, who said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved +him, and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even +the slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five +slaves. His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her +and themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to +the needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty +of having a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon +adapted to their comprehension. After much argument and importunity, +it was finally agreed that they might occupy the gallery of the +church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hitherto unaccustomed +to attend church, now gladly went to hear the gospel preached. The +sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was the +first time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not +long before his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was +accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. +He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons +than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in such ignorance +that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. +Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them +in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of +these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her slaves +gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, “I have tried +to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it has +not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but +prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. +May we meet in a better world.” Her liberated slaves were sent away, +with funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long +bless the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death +her husband preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at +his departure. + +Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his +former congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored +people. “My friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have +an opportunity of speaking to you again. For two years I have been +striving to do something for the colored people of my own parish; but +nothing is yet accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. +Try to live according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is +darker than mine; but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color +of their skins.” This was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It +was very offensive to slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made +fools of their slaves, and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + +I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were +beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist +church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he +should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He +came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, +for he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season +for it came. I asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and +that slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to +read. This brought the tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle +Fred,” said I. “I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only +told you of the law, that you might know the danger, and be on your +guard.” He thought he could plan to come three times a week without +its being suspected. I selected a quiet nook, where no intruder was +likely to penetrate, and there I taught him his A, B, C. Considering +his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as he could spell in two +syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. The happy smile +that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spelling out a +few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it ’pears when I can read dis +good book I shall be nearer to God. White man is got all de sense. He +can larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man like me. I only wants +to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I hab no fear ’bout +dying.” + +I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. +“Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + +I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness I imparted, +were more than a recompense for all my trouble. + +At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and +could find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, +I said, “Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + +“Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat +I don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I +reads. And he _does_ help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + +There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the +water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. +They send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at +home. I am glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the +earth; but I ask them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to +American slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell _them_ it +is wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own +children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that +all men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light +of knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for +sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + +There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as +this; but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, +and would be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as +others have been before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and +awaits the reapers. Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may +have freely imparted to them the divine treasures, which he sought by +stealth, at the risk of the prison and the scourge. + +Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some +are the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest +in the poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be +so _easily_ blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first +time, has usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. +The slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes +himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred +topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table +loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and +sees the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts +of favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with +these slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, “O, +no, massa.” This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish +a “South-Side View of Slavery,” and to complain of the exaggerations +of abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, +and seen slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful “patriarchal +institution;” that the slaves don’t want their freedom; that they have +hallelujah meetings, and other religious privileges. + +What does _he_ know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till +dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn +from their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into +moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds +trained to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? +The slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared +not tell of them if he had asked them. + +There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the +south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the +treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is +called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, +the church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, +it does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + +When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was +much surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the +character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were +after he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day +after he had been confirmed, certainly gave _me_ no indication that he +had “renounced the devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his +usual talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, +Linda,” said he. “It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, +and my position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the +damned slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda.” + +“There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be +allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + +“You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be +as virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + +I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + +His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about +your infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my +negro, to talk to me about what you would like, and what you wouldn’t +like? I am your master, and you shall obey me.” + +No wonder the slaves sing,— + + “Ole Satan’s church is here below; + Up to God’s free church I hope to go.” + + + + + XIV. Another Link To Life. + + +I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. +The old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; +but his wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me +if I came back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay +away for a season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare +discourse about his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, +most unnecessarily, to convince me that I had lowered myself. The +venomous old reprobate had no need of descanting on that theme. I felt +humiliated enough. My unconscious babe was the ever-present witness +of my shame. I listened with silent contempt when he talked about my +having forfeited _his_ good opinion; but I shed bitter tears that I was +no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. Alas! slavery +still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance for me to be +respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a better life. + +Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he +called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps +that will humble you,” said he. + +Humble _me_! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated +my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders +have been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the +condition of the _mother_,” not of the _father_; thus taking care that +licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made +me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid +visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall +into the slave trader’s hands. I wept over him, and said, “O my child! +perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw +you into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + +When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was +exasperated beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with +a pair of shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about +my pride of arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, +storming and swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, +and he struck me. Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in +a fit of passion; and the injury I received was so serious that I was +unable to turn myself in bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I +swear by God I will never raise my hand against you again;” but I knew +that he would forget his promise. + +After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from +the pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as +no pen can describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were +too low, too revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s +knowledge as much as I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, +without having my troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me +with violence, and heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a +man’s tongue, she could not always hold her peace. It was natural and +motherlike that she should try to defend me; but it only made matters +worse. + +When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier +than it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is +far more terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, +_they_ have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their +own. + +Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for +this new crime against _him_, as he called it; and as long as he had me +in his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my +babe, he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring +my baby to him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room +to prepare some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. +I rose, took up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now +stand there,” said he, “till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a +strong resemblance to her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her +grandmother. He noticed this; and while I stood before him, trembling +with weakness, he heaped upon me and my little one every vile epithet +he could think of. Even the grandmother in her grave did not escape +his curses. In the midst of his vituperations I fainted at his feet. +This recalled him to his senses. He took the baby from my arms, laid +it on the bed, dashed cold water in my face, took me up, and shook me +violently, to restore my consciousness before any one entered the room. +Just then my grandmother came in, and he hurried out of the house. I +suffered in consequence of this treatment; but I begged my friends +to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There was nothing I +dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I was glad for +the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to life, I +should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived only +nineteen years. + +Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a +name. Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the +offer, I dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would +not be accepted at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least +entitled to; and we resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, +who had gone far away from us. + +My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of +having the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and +I did not venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called +to visit a patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during +Sunday. “Now is the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the +children to church, and have them christened.” + +When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, +and I felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, +without any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such +legal rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been +sacred to _her_, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was +not alive, to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren +were presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my +mother’s? _Her_ master had died when she was a child; and she remained +with her mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any +master; and thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall +upon slaves. + +When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my +father stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To +this I added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right +to it; for my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. +What tangled skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; +but it mortified me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + +When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home +with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her +for this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to +be fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How +earnestly I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s +chain, whose iron entereth into the soul! + + + + + XV. Continued Persecutions. + + +My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an +exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one +of these days.” + +I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass +into his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than +have them given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself +and my children could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that +circumstance. Dr. Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After +much discussion, my friends resolved on making another trial. There was +a slaveholder about to leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy +me. He was to begin with nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My +master refused his offers. “Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She +is my daughter’s property, and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust +that you come from her paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot +buy her for any money; neither can he buy her children.” + +The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he +entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. +He seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children +had learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes +and hide her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who +was now nearly five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad +man come here so many times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp +the dear boy in my arms, trusting that he would be free before he was +old enough to solve the problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so +grim and silent, the child left his play and came and nestled up by +me. At last my tormentor spoke. “So you are left in disgust, are you?” +said he. “It is no more than I expected. You remember I told you years +ago that you would be treated so. So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! +The virtuous madam don’t like to hear about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” +There was a sting in his calling me virtuous madam. I no longer had +the power of answering him as I had formerly done. He continued: “So +it seems you are trying to get up another intrigue. Your new paramour +came to me, and offered to buy you; but you may be assured you will not +succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine for life. There lives no +human being that can take you out of slavery. I would have done it; but +you rejected my kind offer.” + +I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen +the man who offered to buy me. + +“Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will +you say again that you never saw that man?” + +I answered, “I do say so.” + +He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I +told him to go to his grandmother. + +“Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew +nearer to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. +This was too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled +him across the room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to +take him up. + +“Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + +“Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” +I struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the +door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I +turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, +so pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t +know whether I was very happy. All the doctor’s former persecutions +were renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover +ever watched a rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown +slaveholder, with whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. +When my grandmother was out of the way he searched every room to find +him. + +In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had +sold to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold +her because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had +a bitter life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, +and no near ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. +A few friends had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader +would allow her to spend with them the time that intervened between +her sale and the gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was +rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense of board and jail fees, +and though the amount was small, it was a weighty consideration in a +slave-trader’s mind. + +Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold +them. He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her +master, and she took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was +the conqueror. His gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the +extent of his power. “How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What +right had you to allow it, when you knew I had sold her?” + +I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. +I have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for +honest purposes.” + +He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still +been his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud +voices, and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not +a woman to let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The +doctor undertook to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant +feelings rose higher and higher, and finally boiled over in words. +“Get out of my house!” she exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your +wife and children, and you will have enough to do, without watching my +family.” + +He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of +sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her +by compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the +one to blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew +more and more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” +said she, “you ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be +saying your prayers. It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the +dirt off your soul.” + +“Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + +She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + +He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes +met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful +and weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen +her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always +kind, always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have +been peace and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for +the demon Slavery. + +The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; +and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive +also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was +dreaming of freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I +planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way +of overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + +Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend +had invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my +great consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint +was at my grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell +him where I was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my +friend’s house. They sent me a dark wrapper; I threw it on and hurried +home. My speed did not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. +I dreaded the morning, but I could not delay it; it came, warm and +bright. At an early hour the doctor came and asked me where I had been +last night. I told him. He did not believe me, and sent to my friend’s +house to ascertain the facts. He came in the afternoon to assure me +he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. He seemed to be in a +facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. “I suppose you +need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised at your being +there, among those negroes. It was not the place for _you_. Are you +_allowed_ to visit such people?” + +I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my +friend; but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any +company they keep is good enough for me.” + +He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my +interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy +on you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for +yourself and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If +you agree to what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. +There must be no communication of any kind between you and their +father. I will procure a cottage, where you and the children can live +together. Your labor shall be light, such as sewing for my family. +Think what is offered you, Linda—a home and freedom! Let the past be +forgotten. If I have been harsh with you at times, your wilfulness +drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from my own children, and I +consider you as yet a child.” + +He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. “Why don’t you speak?” +said he. “What more do you wait for?” + +“Nothing, sir.” + +“Then you accept my offer?” + +“No, sir.” + +His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and +replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know +there are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, +you will be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my +offer, or you and your children shall be sent to your young master’s +plantation, there to remain till your young mistress is married; and +your children shall fare like the rest of the negro children. I give +you a week to consider of it.” + +He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was +ready to give my answer now. + +“I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from +impulse. Remember that you and your children can be free a week from +to-day if you choose.” + +On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew +that my master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape +would be impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was +sure if he gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no +legal value. The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the +plantation. But then I thought how completely I should be in his power, +and the prospect was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and +implore him to spare me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would +spurn me with his foot, and my weakness would be his triumph. + +Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be +married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should +occupy in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation +for punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall +me very soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my +master and save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept +my plans to myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from +them, and I would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + +On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a +wise choice. + +“I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + +“Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” +said he. + +I told him I had. + +“Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he +replied. “Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and +your girl shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own +ways!” He left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + +As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, +child, what did you tell him?” + +I answered that I was going to the plantation. + +“_Must_ you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + +I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. +She said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how +faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own +baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had +been out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would +pay them for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more +strength for the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she +persisted in saying, “He will listen to _me_, Linda.” She went, and was +treated as I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied +her request. He told her that what he did was for my good, that my +feelings were entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I +would receive treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + +My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must +fight my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for +my children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a +brighter dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his +side; I had a determined will. There is might in each. + + + + + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + + +Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. +My boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the +old wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little +one was to be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I +thought of the time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I +wondered for what purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved +to obey orders so far as duty required; but within myself, I determined +to make my stay as short as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive +us, and told me to follow him up stairs to receive orders for the day. +My little Ellen was left below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, +who had always been so carefully tended. My young master said she might +amuse herself in the yard. This was kind of him, since the child was +hateful to his sight. My task was to fit up the house for the reception +of the bride. In the midst of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and +carpeting, my head was as busy planning, as were my fingers with the +needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to +sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbor, “I’ve got her down here, +and I’ll soon take the town notions out of her head. My father is +partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her in long +ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have been +quite as manly to have made it to my face. He _had_ said things to my +face which might, or might not, have surprised his neighbor if he had +known of them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + +I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of +a lady, so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with +wretchedness before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how +much easier it would be to see her die than to see her master beat her +about, as I daily saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the +mothers was so crushed by the lash, that they stood by, without courage +to remonstrate. How much more must I suffer, before I should be “broke +in” to that degree? + +I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an +opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections +that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my +lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with +a suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. +Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, +and in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window +where I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart +bleed. I was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it +ceased. I looked out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured +to go down in search of her. The great house was raised two feet above +the ground. I looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. +I crept under and drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought +how well it would be for her if she never waked up; and I uttered my +thought aloud. I was startled to hear some one say, “Did you speak to +me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. Flint standing beside me. He said nothing +further, but turned, frowning, away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit +and a cup of sweetened milk. This generosity surprised me. I learned +afterwards, that in the afternoon he had killed a large snake, which +crept from under the house; and I supposed that incident had prompted +his unusual kindness. + +The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I +put Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I +ought to have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and +required attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he +was aware that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + +I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. +It must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from +town, and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, +I knew, often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all +was quiet, we started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not +long in performing the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her +bed room was on the first floor, and the window was open, the weather +being warm. I spoke to her and she awoke. She let me in and closed the +window, lest some late passer-by should see me. A light was brought, +and the whole household gathered round me, some smiling and some +crying. I went to look at my children, and thanked God for their happy +sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. As I moved to leave, Benny +stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother is here.” After digging +at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and he sat up in bed, +looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that it was I, he +exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dead, are you? They didn’t cut off your +head at the plantation, did they?” + +My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny +back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. +Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we +were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s +hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large +tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a +recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with +them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation +we heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their +corn. We were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to +their labor. I divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing +that he had lost the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day +in the field. + +Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one +was idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because +he knew nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he +contented himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his +father the necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of +his affairs, and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him +too well to consent to that arrangement. + +When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of +Mr. Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid +fifty dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, +when she stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old +lady, whom we all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with +us. On such occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, +and the china cups and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned +buffet. There were hot muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. +My grandmother kept two cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s +delight. She invariably declared that it was the best in town. The +old ladies had cosey times together. They would work and chat, and +sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles would get dim +with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny +bade us good by, her bag was filled with grandmother’s best cakes, and +she was urged to come again soon. + +There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with +us, and when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt +Marthy’s” nice cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy +and spite, she was angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me +and my children. She would not even speak to her in the street. This +wounded my grandmother’s feelings, for she could not retain ill will +against the woman whom she had nourished with her milk when a babe. The +doctor’s wife would gladly have prevented our intercourse with Miss +Fanny if she could have done it, but fortunately she was not dependent +on the bounty of the Flints. She had enough to be independent; and that +is more than can ever be gained from charity, however lavish it may be. + +Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced +to see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made +the house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I +had many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to +see how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She +inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed +not. She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished +that I and all my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for +not until then should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul +did not dream that I was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard +to myself and my children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + +Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from +the town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape +for myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that +ingenuity could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had +proved abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen +his grasp upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more +for my helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. +Though the boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I +would not have taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. +Every trial I endured, every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew +them closer to my heart, and gave me fresh courage to beat back the +dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in a seemingly endless night +of storms. + +The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was +expected to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were +all completed, and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to +leave home on Saturday, and return with his bride the following +Wednesday. After receiving various orders from him, I ventured to ask +permission to spend Sunday in town. It was granted; for which favor I +was thankful. It was the first I had ever asked of him, and I intended +it should be the last. It needed more than one night to accomplish +the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday would give me an +opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A calmer, more +beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a day of +conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever spend +under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last talks +I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! +Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! +Well, better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the +doom that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save +her from it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the +graves of my poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There +the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There +the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; +the servant is free from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my +parents, and thanked God, as I had often done before, that they had not +lived to witness my trials, or to mourn over my sins. I had received +my mother’s blessing when she died; and in many an hour of tribulation +I had seemed to hear her voice, sometimes chiding me, sometimes +whispering loving words into my wounded heart. I have shed many and +bitter tears, to think that when I am gone from my children they cannot +remember me with such entire satisfaction as I remembered my mother. + +The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing +broke the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. +My spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than +ten years I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so +sacred as now. A black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all +that remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked +by a small wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were +nearly obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a +prayer to God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about +to take. As I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before +Nat Turner’s time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I +seemed to hear my father’s voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry +till I reached freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. +My trust in God had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + +My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain +there a few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor +would get discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of +subsequently finding my children among the missing, he would consent +to sell us; and I knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my +power to make my children comfortable during the time I expected to be +separated from them. I was packing my things, when grandmother came +into the room, and asked what I was doing. “I am putting my things +in order,” I replied. I tried to look and speak cheerfully; but her +watchful eye detected something beneath the surface. She drew me +towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked earnestly at me, and +said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old grandmother? Do you mean to +leave your little, helpless children? I am old now, and cannot do for +your babies as I once did for you.” + +I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to +secure their freedom. + +“Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your +own children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother +who forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have +a happy moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I +have to live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings +would be dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to +bear a little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + +My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that +faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and +that I would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + +Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my +lap, she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a +mother? She don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own +bosom, as if to reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all +the while that I loved them better than my life. I slept with her that +night, and it was the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a +year. + +On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with +preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful +day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The +poor creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the +bride, and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no +such hopes for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often +thought their authority and importance would be best established and +maintained by cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave +me no reason to expect that her rule over them would be less severe +than that of the master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the +most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their +masters sleep in safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and +yet they look upon their sufferings with less pity than they would +bestow on those of a horse or a dog. + +I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. +She was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with +emotion at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of +a happy future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how +soon clouds would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of +the house, and told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had +made. I was afraid old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against +me, and I did my best to please her. + +All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not +mind the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time +in my life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his +wife, who would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. +Flint had not made her appearance at the plantation during all the time +I was putting the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for +five years, and I had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, +and, doubtless, considered my present position a special answer to her +prayers. Nothing could please her better than to see me humbled and +trampled upon. I was just where she would have me—in the power of a +hard, unprincipled master. She did not speak to me when she took her +seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her +plate, was more eloquent than words. The old doctor was not so quiet +in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and there, and spoke with +peculiar emphasis when he said “your _mistress_.” I was drilled like a +disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last key turned, I sought +my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season of rest for the +weary. + +The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly +appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. +Monday evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the +slaves received their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, +a peck of corn, and perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. +Women received a pound and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the +same number of herring. Children over twelve years old had half the +allowance of the women. The meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of +the field hands, and piled on planks before the meat house. Then the +second foreman went behind the building, and when the first foreman +called out, “Who takes this piece of meat?” he answered by calling +somebody’s name. This method was resorted to as a means of preventing +partiality in distributing the meat. The young mistress came out to see +how things were done on her plantation, and she soon gave a specimen of +her character. Among those in waiting for their allowance was a very +old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family through three +generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the mistress +said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were too +old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered +much before he found rest in the grave. + +My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, +old Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time +with her daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of +the conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could +leave the plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to +keep me there. If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by +her, she would have had no fears of my accepting that condition. When +she entered her carriage to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, +“Don’t neglect to send for them as quick as possible.” My heart was on +the watch all the time, and I at once concluded that she spoke of my +children. The doctor came the next day, and as I entered the room to +spread the tea table, I heard him say, “Don’t wait any longer. Send for +them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. They thought my children’s +being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it was a good place +to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as slaves. After the +doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always manifested friendly +feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. Flint carried him +over the plantation to show him the results of labor performed by men +and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half famished. The +cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and the +gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered +to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, how do +you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I expected. +He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow they are +going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. +I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable to +thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought +to the plantation to be “broke in.” + +To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely +information. It nerved me to immediate action. + + + + + XVII. The Flight. + + +Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me +he had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of +course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave +them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead +of the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but +said I mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter +feathers on her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never +think of such a thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my +little one. I therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to +use it. I did as I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children +were to be put in their power, in order to give them a stronger hold +on me, I resolved to leave them that night. I remembered the grief +this step would bring upon my dear old grandmother; and nothing less +than the freedom of my children would have induced me to disregard her +advice. I went about my evening work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint +twice called from his chamber door to inquire why the house was not +locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. “You have had time +enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you answer me!” + +I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third +story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how +fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost +need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I +failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be +made to suffer for my fault. + +At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second +floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, +and looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I +could see nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. +Large drops of rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I +dropped on my knees, and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance +and protection. I groped my way to the road, and rushed towards the +town with almost lightning speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house, +but dared not see her. She would say, “Linda, you are killing me;” +and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped softly at the window of a +room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in the house several years. I +knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trusted with my secret. +I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she raised the +window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run away. Let me in, quick.” +She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, “For God’s sake, +don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands +was here last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he +wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would +help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all +bowed down wid trouble now.” + +I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the +plantation to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long +as they have me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + +“No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t +want de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey +knows ebery inch ob dis house.” + +I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her +to know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and +take all my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew +Mr. Flint and the constable would be there early to search my room. I +feared the sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; +but I could not go out into the uncertain future without one last look. +I bent over the bed where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor +little ones! fatherless and motherless! Memories of their father came +over me. He wanted to be kind to them; but they were not all to him, +as they were to my womanly heart. I knelt and prayed for the innocent +little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, and turned away. + +As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my +shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your +uncle.” + +“No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my +account.” + +I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the +house of the friend who was to conceal me. + +Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring +for me. She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the +plantation. He watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any +thing about her running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went +on to say, “Last night she ran off without the least provocation. We +had treated her very kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found +and brought back. Are her children with you?” When told that they were, +he said, “I am very glad to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be +far off. If I find out that any of my niggers have had any thing to do +with this damned business, I’ll give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he +started to go to his father’s, he turned round and added, persuasively, +“Let her be brought back, and she shall have her children to live with +her.” + +The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It +was a busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top +to bottom. As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes +with me. Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly +examined, and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on +board. At night a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed +my grandmother would be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could +not be done. Every one who went in or out of her house was closely +watched. The doctor said he would take my children, unless she became +responsible for them; which of course she willingly did. The next day +was spent in searching. Before night, the following advertisement was +posted at every corner, and in every public place for miles round:— + + “$300 Reward! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, + mulatto girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches + high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be + made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read + and write, and in all probability will try to get to the Free + States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of the law, to + harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes + her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered + to me, or lodged in jail. + + Dr. Flint.” + + + + + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + + +The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had +anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great +anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the +consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even +that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness +to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into +such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my +hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of +bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a +reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which +loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so +dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and +slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was +compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into +the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my +look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and +vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The +application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread +of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend +asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the +bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in +vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed +part.[1] + + [Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is + counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. + The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb + into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky + places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.] + +I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. +They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to +escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, +and let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence +with me. When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved +that, come what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me +liberty, or give me death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to +make known to my relatives the painful situation I had been in for +twenty-four hours, they said no more about my going back to my master. +Something must be done, and that speedily; but where to turn for help, +they knew not. God in his mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + +Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who +had known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. +She had also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for +them. At this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as +she not unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression +of her face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was +safe. My grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt +Martha,” said the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do +something to help you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and +bought and sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she +treated them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She +was unlike the majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked +earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said “Trust +me!” and she did trust her. She listened attentively to the details of +my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha, +I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda’s getting +to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you must +solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a +thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in +my house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I +would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a +great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to +be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send +the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” The place +where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother +was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by her +emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + +I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go +to a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter +of prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing +who I was to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus +blindfolded, but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain +where I was. I disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, +and went to the appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the +last person I expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in +my leg was so intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave +me strength. We reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first +words were: “Honey, now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search +_dis_ house. When I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some +nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s +vocation led her to think eating the most important thing in life. She +did not realize that my heart was too full for me to care much about +supper. + +The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room +over her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said +she; “I keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The +girls are not accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect +any thing unless they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and +Betty shall take care of the key. But you must be very careful, for my +sake as well as your own; and you must never tell my secret; for it +would ruin me and my family. I will keep the girls busy in the morning, +that Betty may have a chance to bring your breakfast; but it will not +do for her to come to you again till night. I will come to see you +sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state of things will not +last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot supper,” and the mistress +hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she returned. How my +heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my throat; but I could +have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed of Christian +womanhood, may God forever bless her! + +I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present +the most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little +cell with light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. +Opposite my window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I +could lie perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through +which Dr. Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam +of satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I +triumphed over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are +constantly compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak +and oppressed against the strength of their tyrants. + +I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I +knew who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more +for revenge than he did for money. My brother William, and the good +aunt who had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, +and Ellen, who was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, +as a means of compelling my relatives to give some information about +me. He swore my grandmother should never see one of them again till +I was brought back. They kept these facts from me for several days. +When I heard that my little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first +impulse was to go to them. I was encountering dangers for the sake of +freeing them, and must I be the cause of their death? The thought was +agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by telling me that my +aunt would take good care of the children while they remained in jail. +But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, who had always +been so kind to her sister’s orphan children, should be shut up in +prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends feared +a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life was +bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It +was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you are, dear sister, I +beg of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. +If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where +you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; +if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of +those you would ruin.” + +Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his +advice and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of +a month, because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was +tired of being her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to +order her dinner and eat it too. My children remained in jail, where +brother William did all he could for their comfort. Betty went to see +them sometimes, and brought me tidings. She was not permitted to enter +the jail; but William would hold them up to the grated window while +she chatted with them. When she repeated their prattle, and told me +how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would flow. Old Betty would +exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill +you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If you does, you vil nebber git +thro’ dis world.” + +Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never +had little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen +their soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called +her mother; she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with +the feeling that even in fetters there was something to live for. How +could she realize my feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, +and wondered why God had denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow +when he came to Betty with the tidings that Ellen had been taken out +of jail and carried to Dr. Flint’s. She had the measles a short time +before they carried her to jail, and the disease had left her eyes +affected. The doctor had taken her home to attend to them. My children +had always been afraid of the doctor and his wife. They had never been +inside of their house. Poor little Ellen cried all day to be carried +back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true. She knew she was +loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs. Flint. Before +night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, Bill, carry +this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she would be +quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handy +waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her +white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the +doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for +their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running +away. She hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its +calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out +of jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing +hussy! When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one +six months, and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her +broke in yet. What do you stand there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off +with the brat? Mind, now, that you don’t let any of the niggers speak +to her in the street!” + +When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying +that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself +there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it +as one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was +carried back to jail. + +That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return +till near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the +house, and thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with +Linda.” He knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so +early?” said he. “I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop +and tell you that I have found out where Linda is. I know where to put +my hands on her, and I shall have her before twelve o’clock.” When +he had turned away, my grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at +each other. They did not know whether or not it was merely one of the +doctor’s tricks to frighten them. In their uncertainty, they thought it +was best to have a message conveyed to my friend Betty. Unwilling to +alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of me herself. She came +to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. We hurried down stairs, +and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked the door, and lifted +up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of carpet were spread +for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. “Stay dar,” said she, +“till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey vil put thar hans on +you afore twelve o’clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, dey won’t +know _now_. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s all I got to say. If +dey comes rummagin ’mong _my_ tings, dey’ll get one bressed sarssin +from dis ’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to +bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty +walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the +fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas +over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a +chuckling laugh, “Dis nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the +housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I +might hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard +about my being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they +would answer, that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; +that I was in Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were +abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said, “Come out, chile; +come out. Dey don’t know nottin ’bout you. ’Twas only white folks’ +lies, to skeer de niggers.” + +Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very +still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my +mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be +willing to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them +the means of my discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly +I heard a voice that chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to +me, it had been too dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old +master. He was in the house, and I at once concluded he had come to +seize me. I looked round in terror. There was no way of escape. The +voice receded. I supposed the constable was with him, and they were +searching the house. In my alarm I did not forget the trouble I was +bringing on my generous benefactress. It seemed as if I were born to +bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and that was the bitterest +drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heard approaching +footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself against the +wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there stood my +kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, and sunk +down upon the floor. + +“I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing +you would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. +You may even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He +is so sure you are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred +dollars to go in pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan +on interest. He has obtained it, and proposes to start for New York +to-night. So, for the present, you see you are safe. The doctor will +merely lighten his pocket hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + + + + + XIX. The Children Sold. + + +The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing +his purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather +disheartened. My brother and the children had now been in jail two +months, and that also was some expense. My friends thought it was a +favorable time to work on his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a +speculator to offer him nine hundred dollars for my brother William, +and eight hundred for the two children. These were high prices, as +slaves were then selling; but the offer was rejected. If it had been +merely a question of money, the doctor would have sold any boy of +Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he could not bear to give +up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed for money, and he +revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen +till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but I +presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At +all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the +slave-trader’s offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when +he would leave town. “To-day, at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do +you go so soon?” said the doctor; “I have been reflecting upon your +proposition, and I have concluded to let you have the three negroes if +you will say nineteen hundred dollars.” After some parley, the trader +agreed to his terms. He wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed +immediately, as he had a great deal to attend to during the short time +he remained in town. The doctor went to the jail and told William he +would take him back into his service if he would promise to behave +himself; but he replied that he would rather be sold. “And you _shall_ +be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed the doctor. In less than an +hour the money was paid, the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered, +and my brother and children were in the hands of the trader. + +It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s +characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and +said, “Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand +dollars not to sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come +too late,” replied the trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in +fact, already sold them to Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The +doctor required him to put irons on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass +through the back streets when he took his gang out of town. The trader +was privately instructed to concede to his wishes. My good old aunt +went to the jail to bid the children good by, supposing them to be +the speculator’s property, and that she should never see them again. +As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want to show +you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row of +marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for +every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; +and the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. +It’s wrong for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my +mother.” + +My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, +but she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. +Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. +When she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the +children in the trader’s cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. +She was afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She +fainted, and was carried home. + +When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and +proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, +without stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying +hour for that drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be +sold they knew not where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from +children, never to look upon each other again this side the grave. +There was wringing of hands and cries of despair. + +Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, +and Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children +were going “as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to +agreement, my uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to +an old farm house. There the trader took the irons from William, and as +he did so, he said, “You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to +own you myself. Them gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a +bright, honest chap, and I must git you a good home. I guess your old +master will swear to-morrow, and call himself an old fool for selling +the children. I reckon he’ll never git their mammy back agin. I expect +she’s made tracks for the north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have +done you a good turn. You must thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals +to go with me next fall. That’s going to be my last trip. This trading +in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that’s got any heart. Move +on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, God alone knows where. + +Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard +as the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say +that he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the +jail, and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, +he was willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even +without charging the customary fee. + +My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to +town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were +closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the +little ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped +their hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her +heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for +a while; and though such a “parental relation” as existed between him +and my children takes slight hold of the hearts or consciences of +slaveholders, it must be that he experienced some moments of pure joy +in witnessing the happiness he had imparted. + +I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the +day had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something +that happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the +superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the +window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without +being seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. +I sat there thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of +music. A band of serenaders were under the window, playing “Home, sweet +home.” I listened till the sounds did not seem like music, but like +the moaning of children. It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose +from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the +floor before me, and in the midst of it appeared the forms of my two +children. They vanished; but I had seen them distinctly. Some will call +it a dream, others a vision. I know not how to account for it, but it +made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt certain something had +happened to my little ones. + +I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning +the key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to +let me know whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; +for I had seen their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had +happened to them. “Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, +“you’s got de high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll +make a noise, and ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. +When you is done cryin, I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and +mighty happy. I seed ’em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be +still! Somebody vill hear you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and +was soon sound asleep; but no sleep would come to my eyelids. + +At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and +the vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After +a while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I +recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda +Brent’s children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole +massa Flint was mighty glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say +they’ve come back agin. I ’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They +say he’s bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa +Flint! I’m going roun’ to aunt Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + +I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my +children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them +off? The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me +the truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I +had overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish +ting!” said she. “I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is +eating thar breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, +poor creeter! t’aint right to keep you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell +you. Brudder, chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan +nuff, tinking ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he _vill_ swar! He’s got +ketched dis time, any how; but I must be getting out o’ dis, or dem +gals vill come and ketch _me_.” + +Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my +children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + +Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had +returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and +many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + +Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of +my children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I +am glad to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall +soon have her. You need never expect to see _her_ free. She shall be +my slave as long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave +of my children. If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to +do with her running off I’ll kill him. And if I meet William in the +street, and he presumes to look at me, I’ll flog him within an inch of +his life. Keep those brats out of my sight!” + +As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of +his own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad +to strike her to the ground. + +I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since +my childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the +old doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble +me. The darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever +slavery might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a +sacrifice, my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple +heart believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is +always better to trust than to doubt. + + + + + XX. New Perils. + + +The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself +on my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having +aided my flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that +he knew nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me +since I left my master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he +should give bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to +do with me. Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. +Sands told him he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he +came out without giving bail. + +The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it +to Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under +the floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of +her culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the +intention that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s +imprisonment would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it +likely Dr. Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was +afraid my uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way +that would be construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware +that in court his word would not be taken against any white man’s. The +search for me was renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I +was in the vicinity. They searched the house I was in. I heard their +steps and their voices. At night, when all were asleep, Betty came to +release me from my place of confinement. The fright I had undergone, +the constrained posture, and the dampness of the ground, made me ill +for several days. My uncle was soon after taken out of prison; but +the movements of all my relatives, and of all our friends, were very +closely watched. + +We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had +already staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must +be a source of perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this +time, my friends had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme +vigilance of my persecutors made it impossible to carry them into +effect. + +One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get +into my room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly +conjectured it was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must +either have heard some noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance +of Betty. When my friend came, at her usual time, I told her what had +happened. “I knows who it was,” said she. “’Pend upon it, ’twas dat +Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de debble in her.” I suggested that she +might have seen or heard something that excited her curiosity. + +“Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn +notin’. She only ’spects someting. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who +hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. +I’ll git missis to fix her.” + +I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + +“Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat +’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + +She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep +Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told +her he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she +hoped I was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to +remain any where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for +one in my situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast +quite clear for me, she went into the country to spend the day with her +brother, and took Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me +good by, but she left a kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage +roll from the door, and I never again saw her who had so generously +befriended the poor, trembling fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, +to this day my heart blesses her! + +I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit +of sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me +a small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery +tones, she exclaimed, “I’se _so_ glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t +forget ole Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + +I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness, but she +interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help +you, and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine +wid you to de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk +ricketty, like de sailors.” + +I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young +colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been +an apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I +was not afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and +we walked off. “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got +a dagger, and no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my +dead body.” + +It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh +air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking +to me above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they +did not recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for +Peter’s sake, as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his +dagger. We walked on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband +was a seafaring man, and it had been deemed necessary to let him into +our secret. He took me into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far +distant, and hoisted me on board. We three were the only occupants of +the vessel. I now ventured to ask what they proposed to do with me. +They said I was to remain on board till near dawn, and then they would +hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle Phillip had prepared a place of +concealment for me. If the vessel had been bound north, it would have +been of no avail to me, for it would certainly have been searched. +About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, and rowed three +miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased by the +venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. +But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the best +that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + +Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos +and briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, +and carried me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached +it, we were covered with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time +they had so poisoned my flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. +As the light increased, I saw snake after snake crawling round us. I +had been accustomed to the sight of snakes all my life, but these were +larger than any I had ever seen. To this day I shudder when I remember +that morning. As evening approached, the number of snakes increased +so much that we were continually obliged to thrash them with sticks +to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos were so high and so +thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very short distance. +Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to the entrance +of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the boat. It +was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low whistle, +which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter the +boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; +for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of +snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when +they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I +could scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous +snakes were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in +that community called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of +tobacco to burn, to keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired +effect on them, but gave me nausea and severe headache. At dark we +returned to the vessel. I had been so sick during the day, that Peter +declared I should go home that night, if the devil himself was on +patrol. They told me a place of concealment had been provided for me +at my grandmother’s. I could not imagine how it was possible to hide +me in her house, every nook and corner of which was known to the Flint +family. They told me to wait and see. We were rowed ashore, and went +boldly through the streets, to my grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s +clothes, and had blackened my face with charcoal. I passed several +people whom I knew. The father of my children came so near that I +brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it was. + +“You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you +may not have another very soon.” + +I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me +what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + + + + + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + + +A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some +boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these +boards and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any +thing but rats and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but +shingles, according to the southern custom for such buildings. The +garret was only nine feet long and seven wide. The highest part was +three feet high, and sloped down abruptly to the loose board floor. +There was no admission for either light or air. My uncle Phillip, who +was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a concealed trap-door, which +communicated with the storeroom. He had been doing this while I was +waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a piazza. To this hole +I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The air was stifling; +the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. I could sleep +quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden that I could +not turn on the other without hitting the roof. The rats and mice ran +over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretched +may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it +only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were +all the same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was +not comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and +there was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to +speak to them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no +hole, no crack, through which I could peep. This continued darkness was +oppressive. It seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day +after day, without one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, +rather than my lot as a slave, though white people considered it an +easy one; and it was so compared with the fate of others. I was never +cruelly over-worked; I was never lacerated with the whip from head to +foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn from +one side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent my +running away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, +while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never +branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had +always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into +the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But +though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God +pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + +My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had +contrived; and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy +would seize such opportunities as they could, to mount up there and +chat with me at the opening. But of course this was not safe in the +daytime. It must all be done in darkness. It was impossible for me to +move in an erect position, but I crawled about my den for exercise. +One day I hit my head against something, and found it was a gimlet. +My uncle had left it sticking there when he made the trap-door. I +was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could have been at finding such a +treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. I said to myself, “Now +I will have some light. Now I will see my children.” I did not dare to +begin my work during the daytime, for fear of attracting attention. +But I groped round; and having found the side next the street, where +I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet in and waited +for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; then I +bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one hole +about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the +night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning +I watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was +Dr. Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad +omen. Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh +of children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at +me, as though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they +imparted. How I longed to _tell_ them I was there! + +My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented +by hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that +pierced through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good +grandmother gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I +got rid of them. The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin +shingles protected me from the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my +consolations. Through my peeping-hole I could watch the children, and +when they were near enough, I could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought +me all the news she could hear at Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that +the doctor had written to New York to a colored woman, who had been +born and raised in our neighborhood, and had breathed his contaminating +atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she could find out any thing +about me. I know not what was the nature of her reply; but he soon +after started for New York in haste, saying to his family that he had +business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as he passed on his +way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles of land and +water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still greater +satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. My +little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did +from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory +information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing +at the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he +called out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see +her.” The doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get +out of the way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off +your head.” + +Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail +again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried +the words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when +we had our next conference at the trap-door; and begged of her not to +allow the children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + +Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become +accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a +certain position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That +was a great relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter +came, the cold penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was +dreadfully chilled. The winters there are not so long, or so severe, +as in northern latitudes; but the houses are not built to shelter +from cold, and my little den was peculiarly comfortless. The kind +grandmother brought me bed-clothes and warm drinks. Often I was obliged +to lie in bed all day to keep comfortable; but with all my precautions, +my shoulders and feet were frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, +with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughts to occupy my +mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future! I was thankful +when there came a day sufficiently mild for me to wrap myself up and +sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. Southerners have the habit +of stopping and talking in the streets, and I heard many conversations +not intended to meet my ears. I heard slave-hunters planning how to +catch some poor fugitive. Several times I heard allusions to Dr. Flint, +myself, and the history of my children, who, perhaps, were playing near +the gate. One would say, “I wouldn’t move my little finger to catch +her, as old Flint’s property.” Another would say, “I’ll catch _any_ +nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what belongs to him, if he +_is_ a damned brute.” The opinion was often expressed that I was in the +Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest that I might be in the +vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my grandmother’s house, it +would have been burned to the ground. But it was the last place they +thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery existed, that could +have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + +Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children +to tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took +them into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces +and gay handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen +shrank away from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and +said, “Dr. Flint, I don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New +York; and when you go there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, +for I want to see her; but if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll +cut her head off, I’ll tell her to go right back.” + + + + + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + + +Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I +busied myself making some new garments and little playthings for +my children. Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many +families are fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation +in a few days, Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. +Even slave mothers try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on +that occasion. Benny and Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. +Their imprisoned mother could not have the privilege of witnessing +their surprise and joy. But I had the pleasure of peeping at them as +they went into the street with their new suits on. I heard Benny ask +a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought him any thing. “Yes,” +replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. It’s the children’s +mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that can’t be,” +replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new clothes, +and my mother has been gone this long time.” + +How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that +many a tear fell on them while she worked! + +Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. +Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They +consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the +lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown +over them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ +tails are fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with +horns. A box, covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen +beat on this, while others strike triangles and jawbones, to which +bands of dancers keep time. For a month previous they are composing +songs, which are sung on this occasion. These companies, of a hundred +each, turn out early in the morning, and are allowed to go round till +twelve o’clock, begging for contributions. Not a door is left unvisited +where there is the least chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of +rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rum home in +jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequently amount +to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man or child +refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears with +the following song:— + + “Poor massa, so dey say; + Down in de heel, so dey say; + Got no money, so dey say; + Not one shillin, so dey say; + God A’mighty bress you, so dey say.” + +Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. +Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to +spend them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, +without saying, “By your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, +cook a ’possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. +My grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale; and it was her +established custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for +Christmas dinner. + +On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two +guests had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was +a free colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who +was always ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor +with white people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She +managed to take them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower +floor were thrown open for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, +they were invited up stairs to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle +had just brought home. There, too, the rooms were all thrown open, +that they might look in. When I heard them talking on the piazza, my +heart almost stood still. I knew this colored man had spent many nights +hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of a slave father +in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off for white, he +was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised him! As for +the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office were +despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did +not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise +money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by +being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise +authority. If he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip +him as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When +the guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some +of her nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole +I saw them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after +them. So passed the first Christmas in my den. + + + + + XXIII. Still In Prison. + + +When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the +aperture commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters +I must be condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful +draught of fresh air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to +stand erect, to feel the earth under my feet again. My relatives were +constantly on the lookout for a chance of escape; but none offered that +seemed practicable, and even tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, +and made the turpentine drop from the thin roof over my head. + +During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no +room to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere +was so stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in +it. With all my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a +worse punishment, either in this world or that which is to come, than +to suffer what I suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed +_him_ to be out in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent +up here, as the only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed +him to inflict upon me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again +and again, I thought I should die before long; but I saw the leaves of +another autumn whirl through the air, and felt the touch of another +winter. In summer the most terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for +the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might +cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, storms sometimes wet +my clothes through and through, and that was not comfortable when the +air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by filling the chinks +with oakum. + +But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of +doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I +saw a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it +if he will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress +had that day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments +of its fair face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the +bondwoman and her child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. +The slave went to her master, and told him what had happened. He +promised to talk with her mistress, and make it all right. The next day +she and her baby were sold to a Georgia trader. + +Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was +a slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling +offence her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape +the degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, +and ended her wrongs in death. + +Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts +as these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. +Yet he stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that +slavery was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing +to the master, and a blessing to the slave!” + +I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the +first. My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them +with cramp. I had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even +my face and tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course +it was impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My +brother William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also +watched tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to +inquire whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored +to consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found +myself leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with +streaming eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had +been in an unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, +and was in great danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent +this, they stupefied me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary +in body and sick at heart. How to get medical advice was the question. +William finally went to a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself +as having all my pains and aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and +ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; +but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal in a furnace +was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly cost me +my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in an iron +pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since I +had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made me +weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very +slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after +day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and +even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of +my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who +would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it +seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I +asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had +been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things took the +shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as I +trust it will be hereafter. + +In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight of +anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best +friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. +O, how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, +that I could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched +over me! + +One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to +my peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, +usually kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, +and I heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were +being sewed up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this +and be unable to go to him! + +But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. +Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction +of the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next +day that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered +from his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + +When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her +customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire +whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked +permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, +“I don’t see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when +she found other ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not +wishing to be outdone in Christian charity, she also sallied forth, +in magnificent condescension, and stood by the bedside of her who had +loved her in her infancy, and who had been repaid by such grievous +wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, and scolded uncle +Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent for him +immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should have +been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my +grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attending +physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him +coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him +a chance to make out a long bill. + +As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, +that a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he +had killed him. It would be good news to send to his mother. _Her_ day +will come. The dogs will grab _her_ yet.” With these Christian words +she and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned +no more. + +I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and +gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I +could now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the +anguish of feeling that I caused her death.” + + + + + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + + +The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New +York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and +he returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig +candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he +exerted all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large +parties of men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them +with plenty of rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in +the bowl, and, in the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that +he did not mean to vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the +street without ceremony. + +The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event +which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my +children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. +Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me +not to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom +secure. Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen +him since the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a +sailor. I supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my +grandmother concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + +The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, +towards evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. +I found myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty +I could hitch from one resting place to another. When I reached the +storeroom my ankles gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the +floor. It seemed as if I could never use my limbs again. But the +purpose I had in view roused all the strength I had. I crawled on my +hands and knees to the window, and, screened behind a barrel, I waited +for his coming. The clock struck nine, and I knew the steamboat would +leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were failing. But presently I +heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me a moment. I wish to +see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the window, I said, +“Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He started, +hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed the +shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had +suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then +felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? +And had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would +not listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were +so busy within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I +heard some one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called +me?” said he, in a low tone. “I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, +“I knew your voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should +hear me. Why do you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this +house? They are mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are +all ruined.” I did not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my +place of concealment; so I merely said, “I thought you would come to +bid grandmother good by, and so I came here to speak a few words to +you about emancipating my children. Many changes may take place during +the six months you are gone to Washington, and it does not seem right +for you to expose them to the risk of such changes. I want nothing for +myself; all I ask is, that you will free my children, or authorize some +friend to do it, before you go.” + +He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness to make any +arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + +I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted +to crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had +done; for I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back +into the house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at +the storeroom window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in +the house over night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be +there; that we should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too +much of a hurry to wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely +have told him all. + +I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up +than I had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little +strength that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless +on the floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into +the storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she +whispered, “where are you?” + +“I am here by the window,” I replied. “I _couldn’t_ have him go away +without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + +“Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here +another minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” +I told her I could not return without assistance, and she must call my +uncle. Uncle Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He +carried me back to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me +some medicine, and asked me if there was any thing more he could do. +Then he went away, and I was left with my own thoughts—starless as the +midnight darkness around me. + +My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so +weary of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of +serving my children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their +sakes, I was willing to bear on. + + + + + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + + +Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my +grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender +myself; and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or +any one who wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not +to perceive that this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends +understood it. I resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. +In order to make him believe that I was in New York, I resolved to +write him a letter dated from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, +and asked him if he knew any trustworthy seafaring person, who would +carry such a letter to New York, and put it in the post office there. +He said he knew one that he would trust with his own life to the ends +of the world. I reminded him that it was a hazardous thing for him to +undertake. He said he knew it, but he was willing to do any thing to +help me. I expressed a wish for a New York paper, to ascertain the +names of some of the streets. He run his hand into his pocket, and +said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought of a pedler +yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next evening. He +bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; brighter days +will come by and by.” + +My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was +over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture +to examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, +for once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, +was made to render them a service. Having obtained what information +I wanted concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one +to my grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a +gray-headed man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in +his power, and what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my +grandmother, I expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the +north, where I could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a +virtuous example; which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the +south. I asked her to direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, +as I did not live in New York, though I went there sometimes. I dated +these letters ahead, to allow for the time it would take to carry them, +and sent a memorandum of the date to the messenger. When my friend came +for the letters, I said, “God bless and reward you, Peter, for this +disinterested kindness. Pray be careful. If you are detected, both you +and I will have to suffer dreadfully. I have not a relative who would +dare to do it for me.” He replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t +forget that your father was my best friend, and I will be a friend to +his children so long as God lets me live.” + +It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that +she might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint +might say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt +sure mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in +order that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I +whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it +will succeed. I shan’t mind being a slave all _my_ life, if I can only +see you and the children free.” + +I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post +office on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt +came to say that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice +about a letter he had received, and that when he went to his office he +promised to bring it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear +my letter read the next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would +be sure to come, and asked her to have him sit near a certain door, +and leave it open, that I might hear what he said. The next morning +I took my station within sound of that door, and remained motionless +as a statue. It was not long before I heard the gate slam, and the +well-known footsteps enter the house. He seated himself in the chair +that was placed for him, and said, “Well, Martha, I’ve brought you a +letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, also. I know exactly where +to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston for her. I had rather +she would come back of her own accord, in a respectable manner. Her +uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. With _him_, she would +feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay his expenses going and +returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her children are free; at +least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her freedom, you’ll make +a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no objection to my reading +to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + +He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had +suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute +of his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + + “Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I ran + away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom at + a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return to + the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, I beg + of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any longer + without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in New York + or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s convenience. + Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda.” + +“It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, +rising to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, +and wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with +Phillip about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and +come back. I should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + +As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, +Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t +see you. How do you do?” + +“Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my +mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + +“Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and +you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + +This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but +grandmother was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my +uncle to go for me. + +The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle +told him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he +should be mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and +nonsense, Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to +kick up a row in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda +writes that she wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would +trust _you_. The case would be different if I went. She might object to +coming with _me_; and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her +master, would not believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. +They would get up a row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged +through the streets like a common negro. She has been very ungrateful +to me for all my kindness; but I forgive her, and want to act the part +of a friend towards her. I have no wish to hold her as my slave. Her +friends can buy her as soon as she arrives here.” + +Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let +the cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of +Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at +the street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted +this date in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I +had dated from New York, the old man would probably have made another +journey to that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge +is so carefully excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about +Massachusetts to come to the conclusion that slaveholders did not +consider it a comfortable place to go to in search of a runaway. That +was before the Fugitive Slave Law was passed; before Massachusetts had +consented to become a “nigger hunter” for the south. + +My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in +danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What +will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t +been there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe +he’ll find out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O +Linda, I wish you had never sent the letters.” + +“Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t +trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good +in the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + +“I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You +have been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, +it will break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every +day to hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God +help you, poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we +shall go ‘where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at +rest.’” My heart responded, Amen. + +The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me +that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no +suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object +to keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less +anxious, and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to +escape. I resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the +north from time to time. + +Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of +Boston, grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to +leave my cell, sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming +a cripple. I was allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early +in the morning, and remain there a little while. The room was all +filled up with barrels, except a small open space under my trap-door. +This faced the door, the upper part of which was of glass, and +purposely left uncurtained, that the curious might look in. The air of +this place was close; but it was so much better than the atmosphere of +my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came down as soon as it was light, +and remained till eight o’clock, when people began to be about, and +there was danger that some one might come on the piazza. I had tried +various applications to bring warmth and feeling into my limbs, but +without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a painful effort +to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first mornings I +tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space of the +storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + + + + + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + +I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who +had gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several +letters from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in +such a manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, +and wrote to him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when +it closed, William wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the +north, to be gone some time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew +that his master had promised to give him his freedom, but no time had +been specified. Would William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered +how we used to talk together, in our young days, about obtaining our +freedom, and I thought it very doubtful whether he would come back to +us. + +Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had +proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; +that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled +through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists +had tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by +saying they should be at home shortly. + +We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his +journey, but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would +return late in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters +from William. I felt almost sure I should never see him again on +southern soil; but had he no word of comfort to send to his friends at +home? to the poor captive in her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through +the dark past, and over the uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where +no eye but God’s could see me, I wept bitter tears. How earnestly I +prayed to him to restore me to my children, and enable me to be a +useful woman and a good mother! + +At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother +had made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old +hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s plate occupied +its old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited +dinner. She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. +In my prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my +dear brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was +sent by Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with +him; that the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not +to feel troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William +in a few days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, +for he could never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been +with him. + +If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought +the messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old +grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I +was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother +had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended +a good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss +he had incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of +my children, who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have +their emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and +father was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know +that promises made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere +at the time, depend upon many contingencies for their fulfilment. + +Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad +and anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful +that it seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother +brought the children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. +She thought it would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They +chatted merrily, as only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you +think uncle Will has gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May +be he’ll find mother. If he does, _won’t_ she be glad to see him! Why +don’t you and uncle Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother +is? I should like it; wouldn’t you, Ellen?” + +“Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do +you know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do +you, Benny?” + +Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by +an old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature +had witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to +parts unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. +She saw that my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a +sympathizing tone, “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?” + +“O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my +children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and +lay my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. +He staid at the north.” + +Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is _dat_ what you’s crying +fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t +know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t +know whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you _do_ know whar her brudder is. +He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s +doings, but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + +My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over +the escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own +sister was only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. +I knelt and prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, +that one of my family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + +It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that +Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do +his duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed +to be free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he +had better not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, +“Don’t worry about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; +and it will spur me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have +earned money enough to give you a home, perhaps you will come to the +north, and we can all live happy together.” + +Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving +him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated +him as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but +I had no idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. +He’s young and inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. +I must confess the scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down +the steps of the Astor House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I +asked him where he was going. He said he was going to change his old +trunk. I told him it was rather shabby, and asked if he didn’t need +some money. He said, No, thanked me, and went off. He did not return +so soon as I expected; but I waited patiently. At last I went to see +if our trunks were packed, ready for our journey. I found them locked, +and a sealed note on the table informed me where I could find the keys. +The fellow even tried to be religious. He wrote that he hoped God +would always bless me, and reward me for my kindness; that he was not +unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a free man; and that if I +thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. I intended to give +him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. He has shown +himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send for him. I feel +confident that he will soon return to me.” + +I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He +had not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they +could give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He +looked at his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What +security had he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind +to him; but he might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to +give him his freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and +his property be seized by creditors; or he might die, without making +any arrangements in his favor. He had too often known such accidents +to happen to slaves who had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to +make sure of the present opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous +about taking any money from his master on false pretences; so he sold +his best clothes to pay for his passage to Boston. The slaveholders +pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thus requiting his +master’s indulgence. What would _they_ have done under similar +circumstances? + +When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, +they chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual +manifestations of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope +he’ll never get him again. I like to see people paid back in their +own coin. I reckon Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should +be glad to see them in the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of +seeing those little niggers march about the streets.” + + + + + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + + +Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the +father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful +devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; +that when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed +him in disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason +to entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time +to time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell +into Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have +come to the conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a +close watch over my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my +detection. + +A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands +and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took +a fancy to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does +he belong to?” + +Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with +the stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days +afterwards, Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted +her to take the children to his house. He said he had informed his wife +of his relation to them, and told her they were motherless; and she +wanted to see them. + +When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The +question seemed a mockery. What _could_ I do? They were Mr. Sands’s +slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be +dead. Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled +to come to any decision; and the children were carried without my +knowledge. Mrs. Sands had a sister from Illinois staying with her. +This lady, who had no children of her own, was so much pleased with +Ellen, that she offered to adopt her, and bring her up as she would +a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to take Benjamin. When grandmother +reported this to me, I was tried almost beyond endurance. Was this +all I was to gain by what I had suffered for the sake of having my +children free? True, the prospect _seemed_ fair; but I knew too well +how lightly slaveholders held such “parental relations.” If pecuniary +troubles should come, or if the new wife required more money than could +conveniently be spared, my children might be thought of as a convenient +means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O Slavery! Never should +I know peace till my children were emancipated with all due formalities +of law. + +I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; +but I could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I +resolved to remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw +myself upon his honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my +grandmother to go to him, and tell him I was not dead, and that I +earnestly entreated him to keep the promise he had made me; that I had +heard of the recent proposals concerning my children, and did not feel +easy to accept them; that he had promised to emancipate them, and it +was time for him to redeem his pledge. I knew there was some risk in +thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; but what will not a mother +do for her children? He received the message with surprise, and said, +“The children are free. I have never intended to claim them as slaves. +Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had better be sent to +the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. Flint boasts +that they are still in his power. He says they were his daughter’s +property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the contract +is not legally binding.” + +So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children +were between two fires; between my old master and their new master! +And I was powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to +invoke. Mr. Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to +some of his relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was +promised that she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. +I consented to it, as the best arrangement I could make for her. My +grandmother, of course, negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no +other person in the transaction. She proposed that they should take +Ellen with them to Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance +of sending her, with friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. +I had had a glimpse of it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It +was not a pleasant thought to me, that the bondwoman’s child should +tend her free-born sister; but there was no alternative. Ellen was made +ready for the journey. O, how it tried my heart to send her away, so +young, alone, among strangers! Without a mother’s love to shelter her +from the storms of life; almost without memory of a mother! I doubted +whether she and Benny would have for me the natural affection that +children feel for a parent. I thought to myself that I might perhaps +never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire that she should +look upon me, before she went, that she might take my image with her in +her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to my dungeon. +It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her mother was a +victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place to which +it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in one +of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to +think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told +them I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray +me; that I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not +facilitate it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated +against the rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not +change my purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into +the storeroom, and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into +the piazza and went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was +more than five years since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded +on me! There I had taken shelter when my mistress drove me from her +house; there came my old tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there +my children were first laid in my arms; there I had watched over them, +each day with a deeper and sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in +anguish of heart, to forgive the wrong I had done. How vividly it all +came back! And after this long, gloomy interval, I stood there such a +wreck! + +In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. +The door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the +hand. I put my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am +your mother.” She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with +sweet confidence, she laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to +the heart that had been so long desolated. She was the first to speak. +Raising her head, she said, inquiringly, “You really _are_ my mother?” +I told her I really was; that during all the long time she had not seen +me, I had loved her most tenderly; and that now she was going away, I +wanted to see her and talk with her, that she might remember me. With +a sob in her voice, she said, “I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why +didn’t you ever come before? Benny and I have wanted so much to see +you! He remembers you, and sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn’t +you come home when Dr. Flint went to bring you?” + +I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, +tell me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. +“Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, +where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her +a letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or +any body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, _do_ go, dear mother!” + +I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and +then she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She +wanted to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going +to the north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come +to see him before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me +stay all night and sleep with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning +to her uncle, she said, pleadingly, “_May_ I stay? Please, uncle! She +is my own mother.” He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, +“Ellen, this is the secret you have promised grandmother never to +tell. If you ever speak of it to any body, they will never let you see +your grandmother again, and your mother can never come to Brooklyn.” +“Uncle,” she replied, “I will never tell.” He told her she might stay +with me; and when he had gone, I took her in my arms and told her I was +a slave, and that was the reason she must never say she had seen me. +I exhorted her to be a good child, to try to please the people where +she was going, and that God would raise her up friends. I told her to +say her prayers, and remember always to pray for her poor mother, and +that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and I did not check +her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to pour her +tears into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, and I +had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose +any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead +softly, and she said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + +Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the +window curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone +on her face, and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that +wretched night when I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing +heart; and tears, too sad for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her +cheeks, as she gave her last kiss, and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I +will never tell.” And she never did. + +When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there +alone in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When +the time for Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and +friends saying to her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will +find you out. _Won’t_ you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, +ma’am;” and they little dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed +down her young heart. She was an affectionate child, but naturally +very reserved, except with those she loved, and I felt secure that my +secret would be safe with her. I heard the gate close after her, with +such feelings as only a slave mother can experience. During the day my +meditations were very sad. Sometimes I feared I had been very selfish +not to give up all claim to her, and let her go to Illinois, to be +adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my experience of slavery that +decided me against it. I feared that circumstances might arise that +would cause her to be sent back. I felt confident that I should go to +New York myself; and then I should be able to watch over her, and in +some degree protect her. + +Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after +Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called +on Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her +opinion very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, +and for his own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” +And as for sending Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much +stealing as it would be for him to come and take a piece of furniture +out of her parlor. She said her daughter was not of age to sign the +bill of sale, and the children were her property; and when she became +of age, or was married, she could take them, wherever she could lay +hands on them. + +Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was +now in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and +honorable for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but +she did not understand how any body could hold up their heads in +respectable society, after they had purchased their own children, as +Mr. Sands had done. Dr. Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that +Benny would be less likely to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my +letters, that fell into his hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom +spoke of me now. This state of things enabled me to slip down into the +storeroom more frequently, where I could stand upright, and move my +limbs more freely. + +Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent +a letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire +whether she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I +wrote to her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was +one person there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety +of the child’s friends at home; but the links of such relations as he +had formed with me, are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet +how protectingly and persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless +slave girl! And how entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened +my mind. Was my child dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + +If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, +curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member +of Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He +wrote to request that she would send her children away from the great +house before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. +The woman could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read +the letter. The existence of the colored children did not trouble this +gentleman, it was only the fear that friends might recognize in their +features a resemblance to him. + +At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from +Brooklyn. It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced +that Ellen had just arrived. It contained the following message from +her: “I do try to do just as you told me to, and I pray for you every +night and morning.” I understood that these words were meant for me; +and they were a balsam to my heart. The writer closed her letter by +saying, “Ellen is a nice little girl, and we shall like to have her +with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has given her to me, to be my little +waiting maid. I shall send her to school, and I hope some day she +will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed and troubled me. +Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she was old enough +to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a piece of +property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return to +the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away +from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been +done to us. I said to myself, “Surely there must be _some_ justice in +man;” then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the +natural feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my +light-hearted boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought +under the yoke of slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I +longed to have him safely out of the reach of its power! + + + + + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + + +I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, +and who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered +from him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, +as far as slaves _can_ marry. She had the consent of her master and +mistress, and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere +form, without any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it +any day they pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, +near Mrs. Flint’s chamber door, that she might be within call. When she +was married, she was told she might have the use of a small room in an +out-house. Her mother and her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring +man, and was allowed to sleep there when he was at home. But on the +wedding evening, the bride was ordered to her old post on the entry +floor. + +Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be +a mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what +could she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to +lie at her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give +premature birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume +her place on the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her +attentions. She kept her station there through summer and winter, until +she had given premature birth to six children; and all the while she +was employed as night-nurse to Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling +all day, and being deprived of rest at night, completely broke down her +constitution, and Dr. Flint declared it was impossible she could ever +become the mother of a living child. The fear of losing so valuable a +servant by death, now induced them to allow her to sleep in her little +room in the out-house, except when there was sickness in the family. +She afterwards had two feeble babes, one of whom died in a few days, +and the other in four weeks. I well remember her patient sorrow as she +held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it could have lived,” she +said; “it is not the will of God that any of my children should live. +But I will try to be fit to meet their little spirits in heaven.” + +Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. +Indeed, she was the _factotum_ of the household. Nothing went on well +without her. She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her +power, she supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her +all the time I lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us +was very strong. When my friends tried to discourage me from running +away, she always encouraged me. When they thought I had better return +and ask my master’s pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, +she sent me word never to yield. She said if I persevered I might, +perhaps, gain the freedom of my children; and even if I perished in +doing it, that was better than to leave them to groan under the same +persecutions that had blighted my own life. After I was shut up in my +dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, to bring me the news and +say something cheering. How often did I kneel down to listen to her +words of consolation, whispered through a crack! “I am old, and have +not long to live,” she used to say; “and I could die happy if I could +only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as I +do for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness.” I would beg +her not to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all +suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in +freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who had been +the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; and not +me only. The whole family relied upon her judgment, and were guided by +her advice. I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother was +summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was +very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. +Flint’s house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she +thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch +by the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each +other; and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, longing to +speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My +aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the +last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, +she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that +she would try to hold up her hand, to let her know that all was well +with her. Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he +saw the dying woman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling +by her side. His eyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always +been a faithful servant, and they should never be able to supply her +place. Mrs. Flint took to her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While +my grandmother sat alone with the dead, the doctor came in, leading his +youngest son, who had always been a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was +much attached to her. “Martha,” said he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, +and when he comes where you are, I hope you will be kind to him, for +her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my foster-child, Dr. Flint, the +foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you little know me if you think I +can feel any thing but good will for her children.” + +“I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of +it,” said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. +She would be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for +her. I wish it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away +from you, she would be a great comfort to your old age.” He knew he +was touching a tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother +replied, “It was not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are +gone; and of my nine children only one is left. God help me!” + +To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I +knew that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had +helped to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened +constantly to hear what news was brought from the great house; and +the thought that I could not go to her made me utterly miserable. +At last, as uncle Phillip came into the house, I heard some one +inquire, “How is she?” and he answered, “She is dead.” My little cell +seemed whirling round, and I knew nothing more till I opened my eyes +and found uncle Phillip bending over me. I had no need to ask any +questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died happy.” I could not weep. +My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look _so_,” he said. “Don’t add to +my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has to bear, and that +we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that blessed old +grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting storms +of a slave-mother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + +Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently +without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her +health by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But +now she became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a +beautiful illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder +and slave, if the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her +feet. She sent for the clergyman and asked if he had any objection +to burying aunt Nancy in the doctor’s family burial-place. No +colored person had ever been allowed interment in the white people’s +burying-ground, and the minister knew that all the deceased of our +family reposed together in the old graveyard of the slaves. He +therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with your wish; +but perhaps aunt Nancy’s _mother_ may have some choice as to where her +remains shall be deposited.” + +It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any +feelings. When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she +wanted Nancy to lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own +old body would be buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, +though she said it was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from +_her_. She might have added with touching pathos, “I was so long _used_ +to sleep with her lying near me, on the entry floor.” + +My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own +expense; and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors +to slaves and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, +but perfectly respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. +Flint’s minister read the funeral service. There was a large concourse +of colored people, bond and free, and a few white persons who had +always been friendly to our family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the +procession; and when the body was deposited in its humble resting +place, the mistress dropped a tear, and returned to her carriage, +probably thinking she had performed her duty nobly. + +It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern +travellers, passing through the place, might have described this +tribute of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the +“patriarchal institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between +slaveholders and their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would +have confirmed this impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ +could have told them a different story. We could have given them a +chapter of wrongs and sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, +if they _had_ any hearts to feel for the colored people. We could +have told them how the poor old slave-mother had toiled, year after +year, to earn eight hundred dollars to buy her son Phillip’s right to +his own earnings; and how that same Phillip paid the expenses of the +funeral, which they regarded as doing so much credit to the master. +We could also have told them of a poor, blighted young creature, shut +up in a living grave for years, to avoid the tortures that would be +inflicted on her, if she ventured to come out and look on the face of +her departed friend. + +All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting +for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes +falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + +It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had +always been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported +her. But her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble +were leaving deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to +knock for me to come to the trap-door, and each place had a different +meaning. She now came oftener than she had done, and talked to me +of her dead daughter, while tears trickled slowly down her furrowed +cheeks. I said all I could to comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, +that instead of being able to help her, I was a constant source of +anxiety and trouble. The poor old back was fitted to its burden. It +bent under it, but did not break. + + + + + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + + +I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I +lived in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and +with no space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a +fact; and to me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the +effects of that long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members +of my family, now living in New York and Boston, can testify to the +truth of what I say. + +Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole +scarcely large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. +There, I heard the patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about +the capture of runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to +catch me. + +Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, +and heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to +say, “Your mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had +rolled away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. +At times, I was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very +impatient to know when these dark years would end, and I should again +be allowed to feel the sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + +After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that +Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with +him; and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, +and protect them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be +drowned out of my den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof +was getting badly out of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove +the shingles, lest some one should get a glimpse of me. When storms +occurred in the night, they spread mats and bits of carpet, which in +the morning appeared to have been laid out to dry; but to cover the +roof in the daytime might have attracted attention. Consequently, my +clothes and bedding were often drenched; a process by which the pains +and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs were greatly increased. I +revolved various plans of escape in my mind, which I sometimes imparted +to my grandmother, when she came to whisper with me at the trap-door. +The kind-hearted old woman had an intense sympathy for runaways. +She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted on those who were +captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the sufferings of her +bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and dearest of her +flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would groan out, “O, +don’t think of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no good old +aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my children +were continually beckoning me to the north. + +And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that +the first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them +out to new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor +slaves might reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous +to the free. On the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my +friends, named Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s +debts. My thoughts were with her during all the day, and at night I +anxiously inquired what had been her fate. I was told that she had been +sold to one master, and her four little girls to another master, far +distant; that she had escaped from her purchaser, and was not to be +found. Her mother was the old Aggie I have spoken of. She lived in a +small tenement belonging to my grandmother, and built on the same lot +with her own house. Her dwelling was searched and watched, and that +brought the patrols so near me that I was obliged to keep very close +in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; and not long afterwards +Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her mother’s hut. He told +his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of it, explaining +to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed the trust. +Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her daughter was +concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was bending +under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous secrets +deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + +My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each +other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share +my den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had +brought so much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask +her to incur greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived +too long in bodily pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread +that by some accident, or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in +snatching my children from me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, +and I determined to steer for the North Star at all hazards. At this +crisis, Providence opened an unexpected way for me to escape. My friend +Peter came one evening, and asked to speak with me. “Your day has come, +Linda,” said he. “I have found a chance for you to go to the Free +States. You have a fortnight to decide.” The news seemed too good to +be true; but Peter explained his arrangements, and told me all that +was necessary was for me to say I would go. I was going to answer him +with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny came to my mind. I told +him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I was terribly afraid of +Dr. Flint’s alleged power over my child, and that I could not go and +leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said such a good +chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could be sent +to me; and that for the sake of my children’s welfare I ought not to +hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My +uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, +if his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me +as soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought +nothing had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time +of departure. But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I +left her so suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said he, “and convince +her how necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You +cannot be blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens.” I +was not blind to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present +source of anxiety, and that the older she grew the more nervously +fearful she was of discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally +succeeded in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary for me to +seize the chance so unexpectedly offered. + +The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for +my weak frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time +bewildered me. I made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son +to follow me. I resolved to have an interview with him before I went, +that I might give him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously +I should be waiting for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me +as often as possible to whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon +my writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as I arrived in the Free States, +and asking him to sell me to her. She said she would sacrifice her +house, and all she had in the world, for the sake of having me safe +with my children in any part of the world. If she could only live to +know _that_ she could die in peace. I promised the dear old faithful +friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put the +letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that +not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapacious +slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I had not +been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, common +humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at +the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she +was trembling on the brink of the grave. + +I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further +particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly +detained several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible +murder committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother +of this unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I +have told the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of +some of the neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously +sensitive about runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that +a similar fate awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She +sobbed, and groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was +somewhat contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme +agony. I was grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my +project. + +When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed +and vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would +be a long time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told +him it need not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, +who would be glad enough to take the place that had been provided for +me. I told him about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, +who never turned his back upon any body in distress, white or black, +expressed his readiness to help her. Aggie was much surprised when +she found that we knew her secret. She was rejoiced to hear of such a +chance for Fanny, and arrangements were made for her to go on board the +vessel the next night. They both supposed that I had long been at the +north, therefore my name was not mentioned in the transaction. Fanny +was carried on board at the appointed time, and stowed away in a very +small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased at a price that +would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes to go to fine +old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford the cost +of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from slavery, the +trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only don’t betray +me!” + +The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark +and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the +vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter +too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the +wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with +fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how +she must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say +how thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for +me to come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking +down under her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found +her in a nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had +forgotten to lock the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly +worried about the detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be +discovered, and then Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to +death, and Phillip would be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn +down. Poor Peter! If he should die such a horrible death as the poor +slave James had lately done, and all for his kindness in trying to help +me, how dreadful it would be for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar +to me, and had sent many a sharp pang through my heart. I tried to +suppress my own anxiety, and speak soothingly to her. She brought in +some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear daughter she had recently buried, +and then she lost all control of herself. As she stood there, trembling +and sobbing, a voice from the piazza called out, “Whar is you, aunt +Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, and in her agitation opened the +door, without thinking of me. In stepped Jenny, the mischievous +housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I was concealed in +the house of my white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery whar for +you, aunt Marthy,” said she. “My missis wants you to send her some +crackers.” I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened +me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my +heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had +done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers, locking +the door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect +picture of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my carelessness has +ruined you. The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with +Fanny. I ain’t got another word to say against it now; for there’s no +telling what may happen this day.” + +Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking +that Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He +advised getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better +keep very still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing +the house down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, +because suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to +communicate with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having +implicated him too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. +Vexed as Peter had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous +nature, and said at once that he would do his best to help me, trusting +I should show myself a stronger woman this time. + +He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had +shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext +of urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch +up with her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, +and when the captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers +were pursuing his vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on +board. They hoisted sails, but the boat gained upon them, and the +indefatigable Peter sprang on board. + +The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to +speak about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the +captain replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where +you or the devil would have a tough job to find her.” + +“But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “_She_ is in +great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if +you’ll stop and take her.” + +“What’s her name?” inquired the captain. “Linda,” he replied. + +“That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By +George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + +“O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. +I am too grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great +danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + +After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was +any where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called +herself Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I +want to bring is Linda Brent.” + +The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being +handsomely paid for his detention. + +Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that +if Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know +of it; and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s +family till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that +household. I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing +ever came of it, and she was one of those base characters that would +have jumped to betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty +pieces of silver. + +I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The +intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to +him for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen +him every day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not +dare to venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and +locked us up together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It +was an agitating interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept +together for a little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going +away. I wish I could go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been +_so_ afraid they would come and catch you!” I was greatly surprised, +and asked him how he had found it out. + +He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went +away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know +what made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the +night before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the +room in the night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see _you_, before +she went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and +remember never to tell.’” + +I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said +he never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing +with other children on that side of the house, he always tried to +coax her round to the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, +too. He said he had kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw +him speak to a constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I +now recollected that I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people +were on that side of the house, and I had at the time been puzzled +to conjecture a motive for his actions. Such prudence may seem +extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, being surrounded by +mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to be suspicious and +watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. He had never asked a +question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had often heard him +chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being at the north. + +I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was +a good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, +the Lord would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would +live together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any +thing all day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she +came in with a small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I +begged her to keep a part of it, at least, to pay for Benny’s being +sent to the north; but she insisted, while her tears were falling fast, +that I should take the whole. “You may be sick among strangers,” she +said, “and they would send you to the poorhouse to die.” Ah, that good +grandmother! + +For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no +longer chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, +even with the blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad +at leaving forever that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so +long by the dear old grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young +dream of love; and where, after that had faded away, my children came +to twine themselves so closely round my desolate heart. As the hour +approached for me to leave, I again descended to the storeroom. My +grandmother and Benny were there. She took me by the hand, and said, +“Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, with my child pressed to +my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, loving old friend I was +about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it ever been my lot +to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and protection. It +thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in God. + +Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint +in body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, +though I felt that I should never see it again. + + + + + XXX. Northward Bound. + + +I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a +whirl, and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my +uncle Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that +he might reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there +was any danger. A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step +in, I felt something pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, +looking pale and anxious. He whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping +into the doctor’s window, and he’s at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; +I’ll come.” He hastened away. I clasped the hand of my good uncle, to +whom I owed so much, and of Peter, the brave, generous friend who had +volunteered to run such terrible risks to secure my safety. To this +day I remember how his bright face beamed with joy, when he told me he +had discovered a safe method for me to escape. Yet that intelligent, +enterprising, noble-hearted man was a chattel! Liable, by the laws of a +country that calls itself civilized, to be sold with horses and pigs! +We parted in silence. Our hearts were all too full for words! + +Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the +sailors said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to +your husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; but +I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something +the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should +have pleasant weather. + +When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was +an elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little +box of a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had +seen a spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, +“Linda, can this be _you_? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked +in each other’s arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be +restrained. My sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very +kindly reminded us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would +be prudent for us not to attract any attention. He said that when there +was a sail in sight he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he +had no objection to our being on deck. He assured us that he would keep +a good lookout, and if we acted prudently, he thought we should be in +no danger. He had represented us as women going to meet our husbands +in ——. We thanked him, and promised to observe carefully all the +directions he gave us. + +Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little +cabin. She told me of the sufferings she had gone through in making +her escape, and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s +house. Above all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her +children on that dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, +when I told her of the place where I had passed nearly seven years. +“We have the same sorrows,” said I. “No,” replied she, “you are going +to see your children soon, and there is no hope that I shall ever even +hear from mine.” + +The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind +was against us. I should not have cared for this, if we had been out +of sight of the town; but until there were miles of water between us +and our enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the +constables would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with +the captain and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of +people, and I had heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. +We were so completely in their power, that if they were bad men, our +situation would be dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our +passage, might he not be tempted to make more money by giving us up +to those who claimed us as property? I was naturally of a confiding +disposition, but slavery had made me suspicious of every body. Fanny +did not share my distrust of the captain or his men. She said she was +afraid at first, but she had been on board three days while the vessel +lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed her, or treated her otherwise +than kindly. + +The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His +friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, +reassured me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable +seat, and occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a +Southerner by birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the +Slave States, and that he had recently lost a brother who traded in +slaves. “But,” said he, “it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I +always felt ashamed to acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” +As we passed Snaky Swamp, he pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave +territory that defies all the laws.” I thought of the terrible days I +had spent there, and though it was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me +feel very dismal as I looked at it. + +I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so +refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly +sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating +breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never +realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been +deprived of them. + +Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The +captain said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had +better wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the +best way to avoid suspicion. + +I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + +He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he +had brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little +confidence in him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have +known how difficult it was to trust a white man. He assured us that +we might sleep through the night without fear; that he would take +care we were not left unprotected. Be it said to the honor of this +captain, Southerner as he was, that if Fanny and I had been white +ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he could not have treated us +more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, had rightly estimated +the character of the man to whose honor he had intrusted us. The next +morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I called Fanny to see +the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free soil; for such +I _then_ believed it to be. We watched the reddening sky, and saw the +great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. Soon the waves +began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful glow. Before us +lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and the eyes of +both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, and we +supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone in +the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered +by the demon Slavery. + + + + + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + + +I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I +trusted we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for +granted that all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I +sought out the kind captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told +him I should never cease to be grateful for the service he had rendered +us. I gave him a message to the friends I had left at home, and he +promised to deliver it. We were placed in a row-boat, and in about +fifteen minutes were landed on a wood wharf in Philadelphia. As I +stood looking round, the friendly captain touched me on the shoulder, +and said, “There is a respectable-looking colored man behind you. I +will speak to him about the New York trains, and tell him you wish to +go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to direct me to some +shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and said he would +talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste I could. +Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with salt +water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the great +city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double veils +and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so many +levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. I +thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. +I gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted +it, and found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the +wharf, where the captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. +Jeremiah Durham, minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, +as if I had been an old friend. He told us we were too late for the +morning cars to New York, and must wait until the evening, or the next +morning. He invited me to go home with him, assuring me that his wife +would give me a cordial welcome; and for my friend he would provide a +home with one of his neighbors. I thanked him for so much kindness to +strangers, and told him if I must be detained, I should like to hunt +up some people who formerly went from our part of the country. Mr. +Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he would assist +me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook +their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, +and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly +conceive of. + +I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many +people in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us +with an expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, +by sitting on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not +easily decide to what nation I belonged. + +Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. +I was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless +her! I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I +received her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, +in a home made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, +and sighed. + +After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had +spoken of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much +pleasure in looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we +retraced our steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. +Durham observed that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to +meet; that he was surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for +a single woman. He was approaching a subject on which I was extremely +sensitive. He would ask about my husband next, I thought, and if I +answered him truly, what would he think of me? I told him I had two +children, one in New York the other at the south. He asked some further +questions, and I frankly told him some of the most important events of +my life. It was painful for me to do it; but I would not deceive him. +If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought he ought to know how +far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have tried your feelings,” +said he. “I did not question you from idle curiosity. I wanted to +understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of any +service to you, or your little girl. Your straight-forward answers do +you credit; but don’t answer every body so openly. It might give some +heartless people a pretext for treating you with contempt.” + +That word _contempt_ burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God +alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I +am permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to +live in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + +“I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be +governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + +When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world +for a while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon +me. They brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst +of my meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham +entered, her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an +anti-slavery friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame +my dread of encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions +were asked concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but +I observed how careful they all were not to say any thing that might +wound my feelings. How gratifying this was, can be fully understood +only by those who have been accustomed to be treated as if they were +not included within the pale of human beings. The anti-slavery friend +had come to inquire into my plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. +Fanny was comfortably established, for the present, with a friend of +Mr. Durham. The Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New +York. The same was offered to me, but I declined to accept it; telling +them that my grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses +to the end of my journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a +few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly +accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, +and some dread also of railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in +my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event. + +That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it +before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for +a long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by +fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, +every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white +people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for +insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored +people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was +but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often +required to drag it to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s +daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept +through all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What’s the +matter?” said she, rubbing her eyes. + +“They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I +replied. + +“What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get +up, without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + +I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help +fill the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how +things went on in great cities. + +At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and +various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an +early hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. +Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast +table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I +joined in the mirth. + +I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new +friends that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with +my kind hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly +my superior. Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little +stock of knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she +deemed prudent. One day she took me to an artist’s room, and showed me +the portraits of some of her children. I had never seen any paintings +of colored people before, and they seemed to me beautiful. + +At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to +accompany us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand +of my good hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her +husband had repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, +but she never made any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate +silence of womanly sympathy. + +When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will +have a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first +class cars.” + +Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” +said he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored +people to go in the first-class cars.” + +This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. +Colored people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white +people, at the south, but there they were not required to pay for the +privilege. It made me sad to find how the north aped the customs of +slavery. + +We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, +too high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with +people, apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and +cradles, containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had +a cigar or pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round +freely. The fumes of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were +sickening to my senses, and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse +jokes and ribald songs around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. +Since that time there has been some improvement in these matters. + + + + + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + + +When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen +calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to +Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and +said, “I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price +was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. +“Troth an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen +smiled at each other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. +“Yes, it’s dacent it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ +ladies in a cab that was not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went +for the baggage, and soon reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, +ladies.” We followed, and found our trunks on a truck, and we were +invited to take our seats on them. We told him that was not what we +bargained for, and he must take the trunks off. He swore they should +not be touched till we had paid him six shillings. In our situation +it was not prudent to attract attention, and I was about to pay him +what he required, when a man near by shook his head for me not to do +it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had our trunks +fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house in +Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The +Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of +her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part +of the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. +He came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and +asked him to aid me in procuring an interview. + +I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just +arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north +seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came +from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have +my daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and +he agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up +Myrtle Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about +to enter, when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. +I turned, and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman +who used to live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years +ago. Surprised and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms +round her, and inquired concerning her mother. + +“You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and +there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away +from me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two +years since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by +eyes less observing than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go +into the house; but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which +she would do as quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs +to let her come and see me. It was agreed that I should send for her +the next day. Her companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my +arrival. When I entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, +and I waited for her return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, +“Where is Linda Brent? I used to know her father and mother.” Soon +Sarah came with her mother. So there was quite a company of us, all +from my grandmother’s neighborhood. These friends gathered round me and +questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they cried, and they shouted. They +thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe on +Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. How different from the +silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + +The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied +with the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen +lived. That I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; +otherwise I should have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not +do to let them know I had just arrived from the south, for that would +involve the suspicion of my having been harbored there, and might bring +trouble, if not ruin, on several people. + +I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to +subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all +upon slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left +me no alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating +that I had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have +my daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. +Hobbs, inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have +any fears. The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind +at ease. When I asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but +there was no heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said +it from an unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before +she left me, she asked very earnestly, “Mother, when will you take me +to live with you?” It made me sad to think that I could not give her a +home till I went to work and earned the means; and that might take me a +long time. When she was placed with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that +she should be sent to school. She had been there two years, and was now +nine years old, and she scarcely knew her letters. There was no excuse +for this, for there were good public schools in Brooklyn, to which she +could have been sent without expense. + +She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received +in a friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen +was a useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and +said, “I suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has _given_ her +to my eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when +she grows up.” I did not answer a word. How _could_ she, who knew by +experience the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware +of the relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how _could_ she look me +in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + +I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of +ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, +and afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. +Perhaps they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s +knowledge was quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient +to go to work and earn money, that I might change the uncertain +position of my children. Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to +emancipate them. I had also been deceived about Ellen. What security +had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt that I had none. + +I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order +to protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I +called myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I +sat down that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him +to state the lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged +by law to his daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + +Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear +brother William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having +heard of him in Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found +he had gone to New Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he +had gone on a whaling voyage, and would not return for some months. +I went back to New York to get employment near Ellen. I received an +answer from Dr. Flint, which gave me no encouragement. He advised me to +return and submit myself to my rightful owners, and then any request I +might make would be granted. I lent this letter to a friend, who lost +it; otherwise I would present a copy to my readers. + + + + + XXXIII. A Home Found. + + +My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly +improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling +whenever I walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that +those who employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my +peculiar position, I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the +families I had so faithfully served. + +One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her +babe, and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me +she preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to +the care of infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She +asked me many questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a +recommendation from my former employers. She told me she was an English +woman, and that was a pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard +they had less prejudice against color than Americans entertained. It +was agreed that we should try each other for a week. The trial proved +satisfactory to both parties, and I was engaged for a month. + +The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this +place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and +sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity +of passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so +painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would +have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to +save me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not +yet told her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often +sad, and kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my +children, and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention +the constant feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed +for some one to confide in; but I had been so deceived by white people, +that I had lost all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, +I thought it was for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family +with the distrustful feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; +but ere six months had passed, I found that the gentle deportment of +Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of her lovely babe were thawing my chilled +heart. My narrow mind also began to expand under the influences of her +intelligent conversation, and the opportunities for reading, which were +gladly allowed me whenever I had leisure from my duties. I gradually +became more energetic and more cheerful. + +The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, +often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me +a home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare +to accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge +of my precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that +it was important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by +dint of labor and economy, I could make a home for my children. I +was far from feeling satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not +well cared for. She sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she +generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a +pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This was accompanied by a +promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became +due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus many dollars +of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed. +That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that their +pecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious young +daughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners, +and had frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr. +Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation +of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her; +and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New York for a +while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It +did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a mother’s +making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused to +let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I +made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s +part towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. +Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her +own physician to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my +request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. +I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my +child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive +was a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did +her injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me +to feel otherwise. + +Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful +that it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. +When it laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender +arms confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when +Benny and Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One +bright morning, as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, +my attention was attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was +closely observing every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. +Could it be my brother William? It _must_ be he—and yet, how changed! +I placed the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, +beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my +brother’s arms. How much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and +how we cried, over each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and +again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended +so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New +York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as +lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are formed +by suffering together. + + + + + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + + +My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my +letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I +received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. +In order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader +must bear in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the +north many years. They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three +excursions to New York in search of me; that I had heard his voice, +when he came to borrow five hundred dollars for that purpose; and that +I had seen him pass on his way to the steamboat. Neither were they +aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy’s death and burial were +conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept the letter, of +which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + + “Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather + from it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, + among your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with + the contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to make + you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return home + as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, it + is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although it + would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be allowed to + purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from her owners, + and return free, it would have an injurious effect. From your + letter, I think your situation must be hard and uncomfortable. Come + home. You have it in your power to be reinstated in our affections. + We would receive you with open arms and tears of joy. You need + not apprehend any unkind treatment, as we have not put ourselves + to any trouble or expense to get you. Had we done so, perhaps we + should feel otherwise. You know my sister was always attached to + you, and that you were never treated as a slave. You were never + put to hard work, nor exposed to field labor. On the contrary, you + were taken into the house, and treated as one of us, and almost + as free; and we, at least, felt that you were above disgracing + yourself by running away. Believing you may be induced to come home + voluntarily has induced me to write for my sister. The family will + be rejoiced to see you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a + great desire to have you come, when she heard your letter read. In + her old age she needs the consolation of having her children round + her. Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. In + her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high the + price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have seen + us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our tears in + one common stream, you would have thought the same heartfelt tie + existed between a master and his servant, as between a mother and + her child. But this subject is too painful to dwell upon. I must + bring my letter to a close. If you are contented to stay away from + your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, + stay where you are. We shall never trouble ourselves to apprehend + you. But should you prefer to come home, we will do all that we + can to make you happy. If you do not wish to remain in the family, + I know that father, by our persuasion, will be induced to let you + be purchased by any person you may choose in our community. You + will please answer this as soon as possible, and let us know your + decision. Sister sends much love to you. In the mean time believe + me your sincere friend and well wisher.” + +This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I +knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and +though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in +former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the +hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough +to go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity +of the African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks +for their cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, +charged with base ingratitude. + +Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at +the south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. +The letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on +the way. Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that +important business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, +and asked permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, +for a fortnight. I started on my journey immediately; and as soon +as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother that if Benny came, he must +be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting for a good chance to +send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal power to do so, +without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and when my +children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of sale +drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, +but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of +colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase +them, with the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be +dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes unpopular. + +There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly +to New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was +requested to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud +rap at my door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” +he exclaimed, “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How +d’you do?” + +O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been +a slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. +“Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see +her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I +wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t +know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I +lost all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose +free boys can get along here at the north as well as white boys.” + +I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much +he was mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of +clothes. The rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering +of questions, with the wish constantly repeated that the good old +grandmother was with us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write +to her immediately, and be sure to tell her every thing about his +voyage, and his journey to Boston. + +Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call +upon me, and invite me to return with him; but not being able to +ascertain where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and +the affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were +doomed to disappointment. + +As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care +of my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained +through the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties +faithfully, and finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions +of baby Mary, the considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and +occasional interviews with my darling daughter. + +But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was +necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh +air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might +recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I +like one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. +What a comfort it is, to be free to _say_ so! + + + + + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + + +It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We +went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded +for tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had +better come to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby +had her supper, but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am +afraid of being insulted.” “O no, not if you are with _me_,” she said. +I saw several white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do +the same. We were at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner +seated, than a gruff voice said, “Get up! You know you are not allowed +to sit here.” I looked up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, +saw that the speaker was a colored man. If his office required him +to enforce the by-laws of the boat, he might, at least, have done it +politely. I replied, “I shall not get up, unless the captain comes and +takes me up.” No cup of tea was offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me +hers and called for another. I looked to see whether the other nurses +were treated in a similar manner. They were all properly waited on. + +Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was +making a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and +we’ll go in together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will +you allow your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew +this was to be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, +and therefore I did not mind it. + +At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce +took one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with +gladness, of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few +people, but here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. +I looked round me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who +would recognize me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a +short time. + +We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the +remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting +the clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to +see Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she +said, were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. +Thorne, has come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” +I accepted the warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the +next day, and would try to see her when I came back. + +Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim +Crow car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride +through the streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where +I found the same manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so +discourages the feelings, and represses the energies of the colored +people. We reached Rockaway before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a +large hotel, beautifully situated by the sea-side—a great resort of +the fashionable world. Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great +variety of nations. Some of the ladies had colored waiting-maids and +coachmen, but I was the only nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. +When the tea bell rang, I took little Mary and followed the other +nurses. Supper was served in a long hall. A young man, who had the +ordering of things, took the circuit of the table two or three times, +and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower end of it. As there was +but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my lap. Whereupon the +young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner possible, “Will +you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand behind it +and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the kitchen, +where you will have a good supper.” + +This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when +I looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one +shade lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my +presence were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly +took the child in my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to +the table again. Mr. Bruce ordered meals to be sent to the room for +little Mary and I. This answered for a few days; but the waiters of the +establishment were white, and they soon began to complain, saying they +were not hired to wait on negroes. The landlord requested Mr. Bruce +to send me down to my meals, because his servants rebelled against +bringing them up, and the colored servants of other boarders were +dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + +My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied +with _themselves_, for not having too much self-respect to submit to +such treatment; that there was no difference in the price of board +for colored and white servants, and there was no justification for +difference of treatment. I staid a month after this, and finding I was +resolved to stand up for my rights, they concluded to treat me well. +Let every colored man and woman do this, and eventually we shall cease +to be trampled under foot by our oppressors. + + + + + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + + +After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go +and see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed +Mrs. Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous +to avoid seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, +and insisted on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said +she, “and he is sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in +New York. He told me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt +Martha for too many little acts of kindness for him to be base enough +to betray her grandchild.” + +This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the +south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old +slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom +they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which +he professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept +at a distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded +there was nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, +it might be the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister +up stairs. He met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my +escape from slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + +I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful +child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant +lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own +inconveniences and troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily +perceived that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits +I found her unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, +she said nothing was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made +her look so very grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled +about the dissipation that was continually going on in the house. She +was sent to the store very often for rum and brandy, and she felt +ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a +great deal, and their hands trembled so that they had to call her to +pour out the liquor for them. “But for all that,” said she, “Mr. Hobbs +is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I feel sorry for him.” +I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up a hundred +dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her and +Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not +to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover +till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only +annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude +to my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile +language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + +I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I +found Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said +she, “I’ve been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne +has written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. +Mrs. Hobbs will tell you all about it!” + +The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the +grape-vine arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter +in his hand, which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping +the yard at the time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, +she picked up the pieces and carried them to the children, saying, “I +wonder who Mr. Thorne has been writing to.” + +“I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the +children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + +“But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been +writing to the south about my mother.” + +They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly +put the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. +They were no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I +declare, Ellen, I believe you are right.” + +The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were +as follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She +can be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of +us here to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a +lover of my country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” +He concluded by informing the doctor of the street and number where I +lived. The children carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately +went to her brother’s room for an explanation. He was not to be found. +The servants said they saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and +they supposed he had gone to the post office. The natural inference +was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint a copy of those fragments. When he +returned, his sister accused him of it, and he did not deny the charge. +He went immediately to his room, and the next morning he was missing. +He had gone over to New York, before any of the family were astir. + +It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the +city with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable +home, and all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be +frustrated by that demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told +Mrs. Bruce my story. I had not concealed it merely on account of being +a fugitive; that would have made her anxious, but it would have excited +sympathy in her kind heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid +of losing it, if I told her all the particulars of my sad story. But +now I felt that it was necessary for her to know how I was situated. I +had once left her abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would +not be proper to do it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the +morning. But the sadness of my face attracted her attention, and, in +answer to her kind inquiries, I poured out my full heart to her, before +bed time. She listened with true womanly sympathy, and told me she +would do all she could to protect me. How my heart blessed her! + +Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were +consulted. They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk +would be great if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a +carriage to the house of one of her friends, where she assured me I +should be safe until my brother could arrive, which would be in a few +days. In the interval my thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She +was mine by birth, and she was also mine by Southern law, since my +grandmother held the bill of sale that made her so. I did not feel +that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly +about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my entreaties, on condition +that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise. +She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a +school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in +October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in +the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and +converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, +and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, the +tears came to her eyes. She said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. +She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of +such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + +My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us +to go to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern +travel in that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all +inquirers that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. +We reached the steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed +colored hands, but I knew that colored passengers were not admitted to +the cabin. I was very desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only +on account of exposure to the night air, but also to avoid observation. +Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, +and asked, as a particular favor, that she would treat us well. He +said to me, “Go and speak to the captain yourself by and by. Take your +little girl with you, and I am sure that he will not let her sleep on +deck.” With these kind words and a shake of the hand he departed. + +The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly +home where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left +me to purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success +than he would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, +and she gave me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most +unsophisticated manner I said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you +for cabin tickets. I cannot possibly consent to sleep on deck with my +little daughter.” She assured me there was no mistake. She said on some +of the routes colored people were allowed to sleep in the cabin, but +not on this route, which was much travelled by the wealthy. I asked her +to show me to the captain’s office, and she said she would after tea. +When the time came, I took Ellen by the hand and went to the captain, +politely requesting him to change our tickets, as we should be very +uncomfortable on deck. He said it was contrary to their custom, but +he would see that we had berths below; he would also try to obtain +comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he was not certain, but +he would speak to the conductor about it, when the boat arrived. I +thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came afterwards +and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that he had +spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very +much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether +the pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the +stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, +and had pleaded with him in my behalf. + +When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, +and showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked +us to take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured +to move on toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered +us, and we reached Boston in safety. + +The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt +as if I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first +time during many years, I had both my children together with me. They +greatly enjoyed their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I +watched them with a swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + +I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a +friend, that we should share expenses and keep house together. I +represented to Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and +must remain with me for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable +to read or spell at her age, so instead of sending her to school +with Benny, I instructed her myself till she was fitted to enter an +intermediate school. The winter passed pleasantly, while I was busy +with my needle, and my children with their books. + + + + + XXXVII. A Visit To England + + +In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, +in this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing +voice. I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a +tender mother. Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s +relatives in England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of +her. The little motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to +me, and I thought she would be happier in my care than in that of a +stranger. I could also earn more in this way than I could by my needle. +So I put Benny to a trade, and left Ellen to remain in the house with +my friend and go to school. + +We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant +voyage of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took +lodgings at the Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious +than those I had seen in American hotels; but my situation was +indescribably more pleasant. For the first time in my life I was in a +place where I was treated according to my deportment, without reference +to my complexion. I felt as if a great millstone had been lifted from +my breast. Ensconced in a pleasant room, with my dear little charge, +I laid my head on my pillow, for the first time, with the delightful +consciousness of pure, unadulterated freedom. + +As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see +the wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that +flowed through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the +stagnation in our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to +spend some days with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was +necessary for me to accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic +method of English education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary +should steer straight in the midst of so much propriety. I closely +observed her little playmates and their nurses, being ready to take any +lessons in the science of good management. The children were more rosy +than American children, but I did not see that they differed materially +in other respects. They were like all children—sometimes docile and +sometimes wayward. + +We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to +be the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six +shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and +sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they +lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where +a woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound +of meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the +cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured +in the United States for the same money. I had heard much about the +oppression of the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, +many of them, among the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their +little thatched cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest +and most ignorant among them was vastly superior to the condition of +the most favored slaves in America. They labored hard; but they were +not ordered out to toil while the stars were in the sky, and driven and +slashed by an overseer, through heat and cold, till the stars shone out +again. Their homes were very humble; but they were protected by law. +No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of night, and flog them at +their pleasure. The father, when he closed his cottage door, felt safe +with his family around him. No master or overseer could come and take +from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate to earn their +living; but the parents knew where their children were going, and could +communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and wife, +parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land +to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor +people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies +were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law +forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each +other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine +lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I +repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants +was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American slave. + +I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed +to paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints +the condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of +_my_ experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed +eyes. If she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting +among the fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on +some plantation in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things +that would make her tell quite a different story. + +My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of +my having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous +manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, +in my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others +like him; and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers +of the gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. +The whole service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in +Steventon was in the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple +of Jesus. The beauty of his daily life inspired me with faith in the +genuineness of Christian professions. Grace entered my heart, and I +knelt at the communion table, I trust, in true humility of soul. + +I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had +anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of +prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time +came for us to return to America. + + + + + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + + +We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed +to rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to +be afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and +I hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, +and improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He +had been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months +every thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite +with his fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered +a fact they had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at +once transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices +were Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to +their dignity to have a “nigger” among them, after they had been told +that he _was_ a “nigger.” They began by treating him with silent +scorn, and finding that he returned the same, they resorted to insults +and abuse. He was too spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. +Being desirous to do something to support himself, and having no one +to advise him, he shipped for a whaling voyage. When I received these +tidings I shed many tears, and bitterly reproached myself for having +left him so long. But I had done it for the best, and now all I could +do was to pray to the heavenly Father to guide and protect him. + +Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss +Emily Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + + “In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could not + then act independently of my father, I knew there could be nothing + done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who were willing + to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this I would not + consent. I have always been attached to you, and would not like + to see you the slave of another, or have unkind treatment. I am + married now, and can protect you. My husband expects to move to + Virginia this spring, where we think of settling. I am very anxious + that you should come and live with me. If you are not willing to + come, you may purchase yourself; but I should prefer having you + live with me. If you come, you may, if you like, spend a month with + your grandmother and friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. + Think this over, and write as soon as possible, and let me know + the conclusion. Hoping that your children are well, I remain your + friend and mistress.” + +Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I +felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such professions. + + “‘Come up into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly; + ‘’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.’” + +It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, +since they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further +trouble from them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be +as successful in future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to +devote to the education of my children, and to secure a home for them. +It seemed not only hard, but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not +possibly regard myself as a piece of property. Moreover, I had worked +many years without wages, and during that time had been obliged to +depend on my grandmother for many comforts in food and clothing. My +children certainly belonged to me; but though Dr. Flint had incurred +no expense for their support, he had received a large sum of money for +them. I knew the law would decide that I was his property, and would +probably still give his daughter a claim to my children; but I regarded +such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had no rights that I was +bound to respect. + +The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts +had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so +called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I +relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now +aware that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + + + + + XXXIX. The Confession. + + +For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably +in Boston. At the end of that time, my brother William offered to +send Ellen to a boarding school. It required a great effort for me +to consent to part with her, for I had few near ties, and it was +her presence that made my two little rooms seem home-like. But my +judgment prevailed over my selfish feelings. I made preparations for +her departure. During the two years we had lived together I had often +resolved to tell her something about her father; but I had never +been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a shrinking dread of +diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have curiosity on the +subject, but she had never asked a question. She was always very +careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now that she +was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, she +might hear my story from some one who did not understand the palliating +circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the subject, +her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + +When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to +leave you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to +improve myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + +I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, +solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; +I have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in +slavery, and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell +her how they had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her +arms, and exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + +I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + +“I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, +and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five +months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me +as he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, +for Fanny’s nurse told me so; but she said I must never tell any body, +and I never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss +me, as he did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did +at her. I thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a +little girl then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any +thing about my father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as +she spoke, and I thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded +to impart had not diminished the affection of my child. I had not the +slightest idea she knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should +have spoken to her long before; for my pent-up feelings had often +longed to pour themselves out to some one I could trust. But I loved +the dear girl better for the delicacy she had manifested towards her +unfortunate mother. + +The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the +village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed +as if all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully +lonely. I was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to +employ me, requesting me to come and sew in her family for several +weeks. On my return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought +of opening an anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining +with it the sale of some books and stationery; and he wanted me to +unite with him. We tried it, but it was not successful. We found warm +anti-slavery friends there, but the feeling was not general enough to +support such an establishment. I passed nearly a year in the family of +Isaac and Amy Post, practical believers in the Christian doctrine of +human brotherhood. They measure a man’s worth by his character, not by +his complexion. The memory of those beloved and honored friends will +remain with me to my latest hour. + + + + + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + + +My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to +California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen +liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her +history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make +capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered +that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase +her advantages and diminish her expenses. + +I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and +I preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return +from Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the +darling little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into +a cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall +girl now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it +was proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one +hesitation, and that was my feeling of insecurity in New York, now +greatly increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I +resolved to try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. +The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic +influences, and still living in the midst of them; but if she had any +prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it; and as for the +system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry +of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a person of +excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to the +present, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with +her and hers! + +About the time that I reëntered the Bruce family, an event occurred of +disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first +fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds +of the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a +reign of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in +its whirl of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals +of the poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling +voice of Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor +hunted colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the +Lord, from Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for +twenty years, fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard +labor, had made herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice +her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune +among strangers in Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had +never known before—that her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her +to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a husband discovered that +his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as “the child follows the +condition of its mother,” the children of his love were liable to be +seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those humble homes, +there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the legislators of +the “dominant race” for the blood they were crushing out of trampled +hearts? + +When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went +to California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought +on our oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and +never had I seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern +hostility to our oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of +the law; for he did not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought +into the Free States by his master. But I was subject to it; and so +were hundreds of intelligent and industrious people all around us. I +seldom ventured into the streets; and when it was necessary to do an +errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the family, I went as much as possible +through back streets and by-ways. What a disgrace to a city calling +itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of offence, and seeking to +perform their duties conscientiously, should be condemned to live in +such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for protection! This +state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu vigilance +committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their persecuted +race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the +newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. +I did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband +might be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, +if necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that +“knowledge should be increased.” + +This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here +briefly relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who +belonged to a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a +son and daughter heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the +slaves, Luke was included in the son’s portion. This young man became +a prey to the vices growing out of the “patriarchal institution,” +and when he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried +his vices with him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his +limbs, by excessive dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his +bed-ridden master, whose despotic habits were greatly increased by +exasperation at his own helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, +and, for the most trivial occurrence, he would order his attendant +to bare his back, and kneel beside the couch, while he whipped him +till his strength was exhausted. Some days he was not allowed to wear +any thing but his shirt, in order to be in readiness to be flogged. +A day seldom passed without his receiving more or less blows. If the +slightest resistance was offered, the town constable was sent for to +execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience how much more +the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than the comparatively +feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, and was +finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in constant +requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s care, +and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring +any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to +increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a +mere degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest +freaks of despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, +the constable was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of +a nature too filthy to be repeated. When I fled from the house of +bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the bedside of this cruel +and disgusting wretch. + +One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, +I was hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young +man approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, +I recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who +had escaped from the black pit; but, remembering this poor fellow’s +extreme hardships, I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, +though I no longer called it _free_ soil. I well remembered what a +desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up to +him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when +I mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the +Fugitive Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was +a city of kidnappers. + +He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I +runned away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem +speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey +ain’t sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk +good car ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis +nigger.” + +He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had +laid. I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon +it, I hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days +fur dem cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought +dis nigger had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. +Massa Henry he lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, +I knowed de debbil would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his +money ’long too. So I tuk some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket +of his ole trousers. An ven he was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole +trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, +“You see I didn’t _steal_ it; dey _gub_ it to me. I tell you, I had +mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findin it; but he didn’t +git it.” + +This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. +When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the +laws sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have +more regard to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become +somewhat enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, +much-abused Luke, in thinking he had a _right_ to that money, as a +portion of his unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have +not since heard from him. + +All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children +out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I +met. I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders +make their appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject +to slave laws as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a +State called free! + +Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint +knew of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have +me caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s +children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, +which slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in +sneers at their cupidity and mean servility. + +I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt +measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied +immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I +should carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child +with me; for the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object +it loves. But how few mothers would have consented to have one of their +own babes become a fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on +whom the legislators of the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When +I spoke of the sacrifice she was making, in depriving herself of her +dear baby, she replied, “It is better for you to have baby with you, +Linda; for if they get on your track, they will be obliged to bring the +child to me; and then, if there is a possibility of saving you, you +shall be saved.” + +This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many +respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her +for harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws +of her country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She +replied, “I am very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one +thousand dollars fine. Shame on my country that it _is_ so! I am ready +to incur the penalty. I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have +any poor victim torn from _my_ house, to be carried back to slavery.” + +The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I +write of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy +with my persecuted people! + +I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of +a senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This +honorable gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, +as did the senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was +strongly opposed to it; but he was enough under its influence to be +afraid of having me remain in his house many hours. So I was sent +into the country, where I remained a month with the baby. When it was +supposed that Dr. Flint’s emissaries had lost track of me, and given up +the pursuit for the present, I returned to New York. + + + + + XLI. Free At Last. + + +Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind +to me. I was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not +always wear a cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the +contrary, I was doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could +never go out to breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. +This seemed hard; and I could not think it was a right state of things +in any civilized country. + +From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. +She could not write; but she employed others to write for her. The +following is an extract from one of her last letters:— + + “Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in the + Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect him. + Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to train them + for God’s children. May he protect and provide for you, is the + prayer of your loving old mother.” + +These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have +tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but +her messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, +and I mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after +I returned from my flight to New England, I received a letter from +her, in which she wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed +family. Poor old man! I hope he made his peace with God.” + +I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings +she had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her +mistress had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and +I thought to myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she +could entirely forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news +of my old master’s death softened my feelings towards him. There are +wrongs which even the grave does not bury. The man was odious to me +while he lived, and his memory is odious now. + +His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had +threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery +after he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of +his survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions +than I supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried +several children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. +The doctor had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to +will to his heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I +was well aware what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my +fears were confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my +guard, because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not +afford to lose so valuable a slave as I was. + +I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday +night, being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as +usual. I went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and +found the boy about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and +examined the list of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, +you cannot imagine the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I +read the names of Mr. and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. +It was a third-rate hotel, and that circumstance convinced me of the +truth of what I had heard, that they were short of funds and had need +of my value, as _they_ valued me; and that was by dollars and cents. I +hastened with the paper to Mrs. Bruce. Her heart and hand were always +open to every one in distress, and she always warmly sympathized with +mine. It was impossible to tell how near the enemy was. He might have +passed and repassed the house while we were sleeping. He might at that +moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I ventured out of doors. I had +never seen the husband of my young mistress, and therefore I could +not distinguish him from any other stranger. A carriage was hastily +ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, taking the baby +again with me into exile. After various turnings and crossings, and +returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of Mrs. Bruce’s +friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned immediately, +to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to inquire for me. + +It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I +had a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after +Mrs. Bruce’s return to her house, before several people came to inquire +for me. One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, +and another said he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was +requested to deliver in person. + +They were told, “She _has_ lived here, but she has left.” + +“How long ago?” + +“I don’t know, sir.” + +“Do you know where she went?” + +“I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + +This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a +Yankee pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a +slaveholder. He managed to get introduced into what was called the +first society, and married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between +him and her brother, and the brother cowhided him. This led to a family +feud, and he proposed to remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no +property, and his own means had become circumscribed, while a wife and +children depended upon him for support. Under these circumstances, +it was very natural that he should make an effort to put me into his +pocket. + +I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had +the most implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. +and Mrs. Dodge had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should +call upon them to make inquiries about his friends at the south, with +whom Dr. Flint’s family were well acquainted. He thought there was no +impropriety in his doing so, and he consented. He went to the hotel, +and knocked at the door of Mr. Dodge’s room, which was opened by the +gentleman himself, who gruffly inquired, “What brought you here? How +came you to know I was in the city?” + +“Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to +ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give +any offence.” + +“Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + +“What girl, sir?” + +“You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s +plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where +she is.” + +“Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your +reach, sir.” + +“Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance +to buy her freedom.” + +“I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she +would go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for +her freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she +couldn’t do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate +her children.” + +This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between +them. My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of +the day I received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from +the south, in the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature +of their business was very plain. + +Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next +morning. She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some +clew to me might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded +with an earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a +bitter, disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. +I had been chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase +was never to end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, +yet not daring to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells +ringing for afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, +“Will the preachers take for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the +captive, and the opening of prison doors to them that are bound’? or +will they preach from the text, ‘Do unto others as ye would they should +do unto you’?” Oppressed Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge +in that city; John Mitchell was free to proclaim in the City Hall his +desire for “a plantation well stocked with slaves;” but there I sat, an +oppressed American, not daring to show my face. God forgive the black +and bitter thoughts I indulged on that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, +“Oppression makes even a wise man mad;” and I was not wise. + +I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her +right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. +This it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in +my soul. Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my +innocent young daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought +of what I had suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a +tiger’s when a hunter tries to seize her young. + +Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as +she turned away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her +expostulations unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten +o’clock in the evening arrived and Ellen had not returned, this +watchful and unwearied friend became anxious. She came to us in a +carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk for my journey—trusting that by +this time I would listen to reason. I yielded to her, as I ought to +have done before. + +The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New +England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed +to me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, +informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that +she intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I +felt grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea +was not so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind +had become enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider +myself an article of property; and to pay money to those who had so +grievously oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory +of triumph. I wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being +sold from one owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such +a great obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred +to go to my brother in California. + +Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York +to enter into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three +hundred dollars down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into +obligations to relinquish all claim to me or my children forever after. +He who called himself my master said he scorned so small an offer for +such a valuable servant. The gentleman replied, “You can do as you +choose, sir. If you reject this offer you will never get any thing; for +the woman has friends who will convey her and her children out of the +country.” + +Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he +agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief +letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for +your freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to +see you and my sweet babe.” + +My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s +true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words +struck me like a blow. So I was _sold_ at last! A human being _sold_ in +the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future +generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in +New York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It +may hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking +to measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well +know the value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do +not like to look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend +who procured it, but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for +what never rightfully belonged to him or his. + +I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that +when it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my +weary shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to +unveil my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been +glad to have met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and +known me, that he might have mourned over the untoward circumstances +which compelled him to sell me for three hundred dollars. + +When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, +and our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, +I’m _so_ glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were +going to be transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy +you for your services. I should have done just the same, if you had +been going to sail for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have +the satisfaction of knowing that you left me a free woman.” + +My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father +had tried to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had +been disappointed. I hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. +I remembered how my good old grandmother had laid up her earnings +to purchase me in later years, and how often her plans had been +frustrated. How that faithful, loving old heart would leap for joy, +if she could look on me and my children now that we were free! My +relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God had raised +me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the precious, +long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. +Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless +handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word is +sacred. + +My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a +letter came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease +from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + +Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an +obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew +of such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one +of his friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid +him low, they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are +eulogies to the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It +does not require man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they +called a colored man a _citizen_! Strange words to be uttered in that +region! + +Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with +marriage. I and my children are now free! We are as free from the +power of slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and +though that, according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it +is a vast improvement in _my_ condition. The dream of my life is not +yet realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own. I +still long for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it +for my children’s sake far more than for my own. But God so orders +circumstances as to keep me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, +gratitude, also bind me to her side. It is a privilege to serve her who +pities my oppressed people, and who has bestowed the inestimable boon +of freedom on me and my children. + +It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years +I passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the +retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy +recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like +light, fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + + + + + APPENDIX. + + +The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of +Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by +friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in +the preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under +her hospitable roof. + + L.M.C. + + “The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by her + affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously related + to us some of the almost incredible events in his sister’s life. I + immediately became much interested in Linda; for her appearance was + prepossessing, and her deportment indicated remarkable delicacy of + feeling and purity of thought. + + “As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden of + these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous and + refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication of + her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a more + earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still remaining in + that soul-crushing condition, which was so unendurable to her. But + her sensitive spirit shrank from publicity. She said, “You know + a woman can whisper her cruel wrongs in the ear of a dear friend + much easier than she can record them for the world to read.” Even + in talking with me, she wept so much, and seemed to suffer such + mental agony, that I felt her story was too sacred to be drawn from + her by inquisitive questions, and I left her free to tell as much, + or as little, as she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of + publishing her experience, for the sake of the good it might do; + and, at last, she undertook the task. + + “Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, and + she has worked untiringly to procure education for her children; + several times she has been obliged to leave her employments, in + order to fly from the man-hunters and woman-hunters of our land; + but she pressed through all these obstacles and overcame them. + After the labors of the day were over, she traced secretly and + wearily, by the midnight lamp, a truthful record of her eventful + life. + + “This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been _bought_ was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: ‘I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me _that_ freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served for + Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was robbed of + my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid myself of a + tyrant.’ + + “Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this country, + which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions laws and + customs which make the experiences of the present more strange than + any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. + “Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859.” + +The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable +colored citizen of Boston. + + L.M.C. + + “This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to + fall, will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to + serve a special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The circumstances + recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to me. I knew of + her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment of her children; + of their sale and redemption; of her seven years’ concealment; + and of her subsequent escape to the North. I am now a resident of + Boston, and am a living witness to the truth of this interesting + narrative. + + George W. Lowther.” + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 *** diff --git a/old/11030-h/11030-h.htm b/old/11030-h/11030-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..876a418 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11030-h/11030-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8704 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"> + <style> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .preserve {font-size: 90%; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4, .ph5 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } + .ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } + .ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } + .ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } + .ph4,.ph5 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } + div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} + h2,h3 {page-break-before: avoid;} + .smallcaps {font-variant: small-caps;} + .right {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%; font-size: 90%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} + .poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .stanza {margin: 0.75em auto; text-indent: -3em;} + .stanza div.i0 {padding-left: 3em;} + .stanza div.i1 {padding-left: 3.5em;} + .stanza div.i20 {padding-left: 14em;} + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 ***</div> + +<p>[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.]</p> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h1> + <span class='ph2'>INCIDENTS</span><br> + <span class='ph5'>IN THE</span><br> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + </h1> + <div class='ph4'>WRITTEN BY HERSELF.</div> + <p> + “Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual + bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of <i>degradation</i> + involved in that word, <span class="smallcaps">Slavery</span>; if they had, they would never cease their + efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">A Woman of North Carolina.</span></p> + <p> + “Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! + Give ear unto my speech.” + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">Isaiah</span> xxxii. 9.</p> + <div class="center"><br><br><b>EDITED BY L. MARIA CHILD</b></div> + <div class="center"><br><br><b>BOSTON:<br> PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR<br>1861.</b></div> + <hr> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps">Contents.</h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> I. Childhood </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> II. The New Master And Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> V. The Trials Of Girlhood. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VI. The Jealous Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VII. The Lover. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The + North. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XI. The New Tie To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XII. Fear Of Insurrection. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIII. The Church And Slavery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIV. Another Link To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XV. Continued Persecutions. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVII. The Flight. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XVIII. Months Of Peril. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XIX. The Children Sold. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XX. New Perils. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXII. Christmas Festivities. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIII. Still In Prison. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXV. Competition In Cunning. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVII. New Destination For The Children. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXIX. Preparations For Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXX. Northward Bound. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIII. A Home Found. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVII. A Visit To England </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XXXIX. The Confession. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLI. Free At Last. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps"> + Preface by the Author + </h2> + <p> + Reader, be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my + adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. + I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, + my descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of + places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on + my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to + pursue this course. + </p> + <p> + I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my + readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was + born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven + years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to + work diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This + has not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early + opportunities to improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these + pages at irregular intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from + household duties. + </p> + <p> + When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a + sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an + undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I + still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what + might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in + order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been + more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I + care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire + to arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of + two millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I + suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that + of abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery + really is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and + foul is that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this + imperfect effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + </p> + <div class="smallcaps right">Linda Brent.</div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2 class="smallcaps"> + Introduction by the Editor + </h2> + <p> + The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and + her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last + seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a + distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be + highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further + credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be + disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are + more romantic than fiction. + </p> + <p> + At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have + made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly + arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the + import of her very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the + ideas and the language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but + otherwise I had no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of + telling her own story. The names of both persons and places are known to + me; but for good reasons I suppress them. + </p> + <p> + It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be + able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first + place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, + with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate + friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in + favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent + intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her + welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + </p> + <p> + I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these + pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and + much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, + and others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been + kept veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous + features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with + the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who + are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to + them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women + at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence + on the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the + hope that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before + God that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery + shall ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and + cruelty. + </p> + <div class="smallcaps right">L. Maria Child.</div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='ph1'>INCIDENTS<br> + <span class='ph2'>IN THE</span><br> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL,<br> + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED.</div> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + I. Childhood + </h2> + <p> + I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood + had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent + and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were + to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On + condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and + supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his + own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though + he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never + succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, + and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, + though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I + was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable + to be demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was + two years younger than myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had + also a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable + woman in many respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South + Carolina, who, at his death, left her mother and his three children free, + with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during + the Revolutionary War; and they were captured on their passage, carried + back, and sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother + used to tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a + little girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. + I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as + she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that + her master and mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to + take care of such a valuable piece of property. She became an + indispensable personage in the household, officiating in all capacities, + from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her + cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that + many people were desirous of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous + requests of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress to bake + crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained + leave to do it, provided she would clothe herself and her children from + the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her + mistress, she began her midnight bakings, assisted by her two oldest + children. The business proved profitable; and each year she laid by a + little, which was saved for a fund to purchase her children. Her master + died, and the property was divided among his heirs. The widow had her + dower in the hotel, which she continued to keep open. My grandmother + remained in her service as a slave; but her children were divided among + her master’s children. As she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was + sold, in order that each heir might have an equal portion of dollars and + cents. There was so little difference in our ages that he seemed more like + my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for + he inherited the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon + ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars + were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother; but she + was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting + in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up three + hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to + pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or writing given + to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern laws, a slave, + <i>being</i> property, can <i>hold</i> no property. When my grandmother + lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to her honor. + The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + </p> + <p> + To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother + Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and + preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were + indebted to her for many more important services. + </p> + <p> + Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. + When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I + learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother’s mistress + was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She was the foster sister of + my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother’s breast. In + fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the + mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; + and, when they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her + whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she + kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a + slave merely in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for + her, and my young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take + care of me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be + with her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable + duties were imposed upon me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always + glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young + years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, + with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When + she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I + bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were + happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the + morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human + being born to be a chattel. + </p> + <p> + When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As + I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I + prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been + almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and + they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears + fell upon her grave. + </p> + <p> + I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to + begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they + would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind + as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, + and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having + some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it + would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my + mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory + of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the + auction block. + </p> + <p> + After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we + learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of + five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the + precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” + “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto + them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her + neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great + wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy + days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of + injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for + this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her + memory. + </p> + <p> + She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed + among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had + shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding + my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her + children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no + more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the + horses they tend. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + II. The New Master And Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my + mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not + without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my + unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the + same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of + transacting business as a skilful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a + freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and + being brought up under such influences, he early detested the name of + master and mistress. One day, when his father and his mistress both + happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated between the two; being + perplexed to know which had the strongest claim upon his obedience. He + finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my father reproved him for + it, he said, “You both called me, and I didn’t know which I ought to go to + first.” + </p> + <p> + “You are <i>my</i> child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you + should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a + master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found + an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + </p> + <p> + When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and + cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I + moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + </p> + <p> + I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was + buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her + only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I + still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, “Come + with me, Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. + She led me apart from the people, and then said, “My child, your father is + dead.” Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not + even heard that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart + rebelled against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and + friend. The good grandmother tried to comfort me. “Who knows the ways of + God?” said she. “Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to + come.” Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a + mother to her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; + and strengthened by her love, I returned to my master’s. I thought I + should be allowed to go to my father’s house the next morning; but I was + ordered to go for flowers, that my mistress’s house might be decorated for + an evening party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into + festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. + What cared my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. + Moreover, they thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to + feel that they were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a + slave to teach; presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + </p> + <p> + The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my + dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected + his memory. + </p> + <p> + My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little + slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about + the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried + to comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come + by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have to + stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + </p> + <p> + I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we + might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could + earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to + say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to <i>buy</i> his freedom. We + held daily controversies upon this subject. + </p> + <p> + Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. If + they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave + myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my + grandmother’s house, where there was always something to spare for me. I + was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my + grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something + for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to <i>her</i> for all my + comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was <i>her</i> labor that supplied my + scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress + given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the + badges of slavery. + </p> + <p> + While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard + earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never + repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed + executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate + was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, + prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which had been + purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the + family, from generation to generation. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she + should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the + promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old + servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be + sold. + </p> + <p> + On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, + proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, &c.” + Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her + feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose + of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she + understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very + spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress + intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. + She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and + preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was called, was generally + known, and every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good + character. Her long and faithful service in the family was also well + known, and the intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day + of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call + she sprang upon the auction-block. Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! + Who is going to sell <i>you</i>, aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is + no place for <i>you</i>.” Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her + fate. No one bid for her. At last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” + It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my + grandmother’s deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same + roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her + owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights; and she + resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her + wishes were respected; no one bid above her. She could neither read nor + write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. + But what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with + human kindness? She gave the old servant her freedom. + </p> + <p> + At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had + passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had + defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One + of my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. + She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both + housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the + beginning and end of every thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She + had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were + so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, + till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of + the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did not seem to put her in + a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on + that particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait + till it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had + been used for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children + from eking out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other + scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to + give them. Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times + a day. I can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from + her flour barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, + and exactly what size they ought to be. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table + without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his + liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat + every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not + have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram + it down her throat till she choked. + </p> + <p> + They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered + to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was + held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a + few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been + well cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent + for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman’s + stomach was stronger than the dog’s; but her sufferings afterwards proved + that he was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her + master and mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing + baby, for a whole day and night. + </p> + <p> + When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves + was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he + arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied + up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that + situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never + forget that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows + fall, in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his “O, + pray don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many + conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master + accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with + his wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being + the father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet + with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and + continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint + handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value + into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of + sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader’s hands, + she said, “You <i>promised</i> to treat me well.” To which he replied, + “You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had forgotten that + it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + </p> + <p> + From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once + saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. + In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” Her mistress stood + by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You suffer, do you?” she + exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor + child will soon be in heaven, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like of + her and her bastard.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, + feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, + mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + </p> + <p> + Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt + unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still + on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had + but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked + God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty + slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + </p> + <p> + Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the + slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until + the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters + give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until + Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they + are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may + think proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and they gather together their + little alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait + anxiously for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are + thronged with men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear + their doom pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, + or cruel master, within forty miles of him. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves + well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me + this year. I will work <i>very</i> hard, massa.” + </p> + <p> + If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or + locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away + during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it + justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! + The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs + are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + </p> + <p> + If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, + without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. + After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + </p> + <p> + O, you happy free women, contrast <i>your</i> New Year’s day with that of + the poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of + the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are + showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at + this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you a happy + New Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy + lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can + take them from you. + </p> + <p> + But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. + She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be + torn from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they + might die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded + by the system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a + mother’s instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother’s agonies. + </p> + <p> + On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the + auction-block. She knew that <i>some</i> of them would be taken from her; + but they took <i>all</i>. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and + their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her + children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he + intended to take them; this he refused to do. How <i>could</i> he, when he + knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the highest + price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard face lives + to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, “Gone! + All gone! Why <i>don’t</i> God kill me?” I had no words wherewith to + comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of hourly + occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid + of <i>old</i> slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I + knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She + had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved + to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who + would give twenty dollars for her. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + </h2> + <p> + Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those years + had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they + had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan + grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now + mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. + She would have been happy could her children have shared them with her. + There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most + earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that + He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed + hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her + children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We + reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated + as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet + balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always + met us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She + spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. + There was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things + for the town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our + hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully + made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother + William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master + that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He + came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. + It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing + here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose + restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom + to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that + scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad + I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and + swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + </p> + <p> + When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in + <i>every</i> thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and + should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + </p> + <p> + So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither + saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded + close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look so sad? I love + you. O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and + unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did.” + </p> + <p> + I told him that every body was <i>not</i> cross, or unhappy; that those + who had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love + them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or + mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would + bring us contentment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all the + time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s difficulty + with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas + had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas + said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; + but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting + the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in + that likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the + skirmish none the worse for a few scratches. + </p> + <p> + He continued to discourse, on his young master’s <i>meanness</i>; how he + whipped the <i>little</i> boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle + ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he + always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. + One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for + quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was + often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to + do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong to deceive + the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the impositions + practised by his young master. I assured him the old man would not be slow + to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would end. William thought + it might with the old man, but not with <i>him</i>. He said he did not + mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the <i>idea</i> of being + whipped. + </p> + <p> + While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the + beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that + urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother’s God-given + nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, + seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, + of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God’s + most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + </p> + <p> + If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in + Benjamin’s heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of a + girl’s first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render + me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the + petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + </p> + <p> + I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. + My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. + I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still + continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, their creaking + grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what + I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new + shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you put them on again, I’ll + throw them into the fire.” + </p> + <p> + I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, + on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night + I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me + sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + </p> + <p> + I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress + would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the little imp,” as + she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such + extravagant imaginings. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, + “She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no + right to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, + and I could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned + my affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me; and + his wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant + doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her + mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must + be the latter. I said to myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. + My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I + was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, + that she believed I was telling a lie. + </p> + <p> + I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny + paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing + thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, brother,” said + I, “what is the matter this time?” + </p> + <p> + “O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, + Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not + immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began + to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master + was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground + his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the + result. + </p> + <p> + That night I stole to my grandmother’s house, and Benjamin also stole + thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two + with an old friend living in the country. + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + I inquired where. + </p> + <p> + “To the north,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his + firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my + words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more + galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly + whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he + must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought + back; and that was terrible to think of. + </p> + <p> + He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not + preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we are + dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will not + stay. Let them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + </p> + <p> + He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break + your mother’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + I repented of my words ere they were out. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, “how + <i>could</i> you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, + too, cousin Fanny.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + </p> + <p> + Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so + many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he + was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The + captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who + was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His + embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the + advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its + description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. + The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that + port Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He + escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to + his master. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, + great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, “God’s + will be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from + her boy. Yes, news <i>was</i> heard. The master was rejoicing over a + letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + </p> + <p> + That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led + through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet + full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his + mother’s house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her + distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and + she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her + child had said. + </p> + <p> + We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, + and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my + grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not + a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” whispered my + grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. There was a jingle + of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through + the bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin’s cold hands in + ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin’s lips were + unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory + bring back that sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her + pardon for the suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to + forgive; she could not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when + he was captured, he broke away, and was about casting himself into the + river, when thoughts of <i>her</i> came over him, and he desisted. She + asked if he did not also think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow + fierce in the moonlight. He answered, “No, I did not think of him. When a + man is hunted like a wild beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He + forgets every thing in his struggle to get beyond the reach of the + bloodhounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, my + child, and your master will forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me for <i>what</i>, mother? For not letting him treat me like a + dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for + nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I + will stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he + next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t + worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every + thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I + could.” + </p> + <p> + She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when + sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned + to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do + likewise. + </p> + <p> + We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to + intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin + should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in + jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. + However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, + and we were allowed to visit him. + </p> + <p> + As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible + a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + </p> + <p> + Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a + purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum + was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He + was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered + with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered + with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of + them. He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that + they should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was + covered with vermin. + </p> + <p> + This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our + visits. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old + ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still + begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion + nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, “I am + waiting his time.” + </p> + <p> + Those chains were mournful to hear. + </p> + <p> + Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that + loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave trader had + bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years + of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred + dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement + had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had + heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable + for a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a + girl. We thanked God that he was not. + </p> + <p> + Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened + the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, + and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly + pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you + would exclaim, <i>Slavery is damnable</i>! + </p> + <p> + Benjamin, her youngest, her + pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview + with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be + purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to + sell him till he was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell + him till he reached New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of + love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still + be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she + labored. The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was not + discouraged. + </p> + <p> + She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New + Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly + favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he + thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the + trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and + had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for + freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was + riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + </p> + <p> + For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion + that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed + out to the letter, and the <i>thing</i> rendered back to slavery. The + brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was + taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength + was slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to + retard his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? + He resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he + thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a + voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing <i>here</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not + stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his + old master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; + but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly + number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose + ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave + you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. + You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing + for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, + for there are several gentlemen here from our town.” He described the + nearest and safest route to New York, and added, “I shall be glad to tell + your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + </p> + <p> + Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town + he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. + On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the + service he had rendered him. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had + gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my + grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business + for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. You may be + sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, “I am here at + last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free + land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. + He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the + old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but + something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. + He had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven + for self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not + desire a continuation of the same in another world. “If I die now,” he + exclaimed, “thank God, I shall die a freeman!” + </p> + <p> + He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with + him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it + would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged + her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be + bought? + </p> + <p> + “No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out + of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I + would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay + all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know + she will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good + mother! Tell her to buy <i>you</i>, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, + and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what’ll become of her? + Phil, you don’t know what a life they lead her. She has told me something + about it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in + jail, he asked her if she didn’t want <i>him</i> to ask my master to + forgive me, and take me home again. She told him, No; that I didn’t want + to go back. He got mad, and said we were all alike. I never despised my + own master half as much as I do that man. There is many a worse + slaveholder than my master; but for all that I would not be his slave.” + </p> + <p> + While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay + necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in + his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I + thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + </p> + <p> + His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + </p> + <p> + They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, + “Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard from + him again. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered + the house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She + stood looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe + it?” he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her + hands, and exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped on + her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit + down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only + he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he + distress her when she could do him no good? + </p> + <p> + The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other + children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight + hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his + freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that + night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove + to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long + taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, “He that is <i>willing</i> + to be a slave, let him be a slave.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + </h2> + <p> + During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was + accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. + Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and + tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I + now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave + girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I + could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with + indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, and the fear + that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this + treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means + to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that + made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he + thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, + although they left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure + principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with + unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from + him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live + under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior + daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was + his property; that I must be subject to his will in all things. My soul + revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? + No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her + mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from + insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by + fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the + helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy + and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of + slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would + willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are + told you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, + you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would + refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work + which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at the + south. + </p> + <p> + Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in + slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the + little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, + will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress + hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child’s own mother + is among those hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous + passion, and cannot help understanding what is the cause. She will become + prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when + she hears her master’s footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she + is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove + her greatest curse. That which commands admiration in the white woman only + hastens the degradation of the female slave. I know that some are too much + brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of their position; but many + slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot + tell how much I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am + still pained by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding + me that I belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would + compel me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after + a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my + mother’s grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart + which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other + slaves in my master’s house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; + but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew + too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that to + speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + </p> + <p> + I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have + laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all my + troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as + the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared + her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a + respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about + telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict + on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was + usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once + roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once + chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one of + her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; and both + pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide in my + grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, her + presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she had + been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching + rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he did + not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me that I did + not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that the + inhabitants were ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the laws and + customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, + deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + </p> + <p> + O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it + is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what + I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your + hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once + suffered. + </p> + <p> + I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white + child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them + embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away + from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on + the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to + sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood + to womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a + sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose + on her happy bridal morning. + </p> + <p> + How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of + her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine + of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, + whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + </p> + <p> + In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the + north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that + I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There + are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who + cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage + to go on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the + cause of humanity! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the + half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the + slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton + plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an + unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a + penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his + ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is + not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to + wish to be virtuous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was born. + She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and + the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were + the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her + husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to + evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested + in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb + asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and + many were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day + he caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well + pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an + accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, + notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I + can’t read them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to + you.” He always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” + Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his + supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself + there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away + the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These + intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly + throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited + my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had + exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his + patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me + at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When + there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to + address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he + would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. + Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be + forbearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In + desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for + protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made + any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally + of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out + of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that + some threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + </p> + <p> + I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent + that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently + passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and + he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was + never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her + to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity + for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never + wronged her, or wished to wrong her; and one word of kindness from her + would have brought me to her feet. + </p> + <p> + After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his + intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in + his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same + room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, + and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing + to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, + I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often + held to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I + slept by the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent + to come into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family + many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed + it necessary to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove + the obstacle in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so + that he should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my + refuge by the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of + it. The first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The + next morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following + night. A kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint + heard of this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it + rage. + </p> + <p> + After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first + question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “My master.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I + have accused you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this + holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. “If + you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me + directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master + and you.” + </p> + <p> + I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed + frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, + that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon + convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt + that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had + no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. She pitied + herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of + shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. + </p> + <p> + Yet perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was + ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been + much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but + my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very + refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object + of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not + expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I + was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women + would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from + small sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was + obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + </p> + <p> + I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it + afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she + rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room + adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not + of her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch + over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending over me. At other + times she whispered in my ear, as though it was her husband who was + speaking to me, and listened to hear what I would answer. If she startled + me, on such occasions, she would glide stealthily away; and the next + morning she would tell me I had been talking in my sleep, and ask who I + was talking to. At last, I began to be fearful for my life. It had been + often threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an + unpleasant sensation it must produce to wake up in the dead of night and + find a jealous woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I + had fears that it would give place to one more terrible. + </p> + <p> + My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She + changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of + crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. + To my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe it; but if she did + acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me.” Tortured into exposing + him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his + soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was + to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; + that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She + was a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the + hoary-headed miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and + better woman. She was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She + would gladly have had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I + have already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old + sinner was politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks + that would have exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. + How often did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants + knew each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the + multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + </p> + <p> + The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My + master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the + mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other + slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, + indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. + She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the + never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not belong to <i>me</i>. + She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal right to sell her.” The + conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to <i>sell</i> me; but he had no + scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the + helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter’s + property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be + sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a + life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured + individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into + the house, and make you the companion of my own children?” he would say. + “Have I ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to + be punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense + I get, you ungrateful girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for + screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my + mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! + Don’t cry! don’t cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only + let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know + what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of + you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you.” + </p> + <p> + I did think of it. + </p> + <p> + Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you + the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from this wild beast of + Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the + poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s bones, and all + uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give + their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic + notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year + round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The + young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her + happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of + complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they + are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the + flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + </p> + <p> + Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many + little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such + children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it + is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into + the slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of + their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + </p> + <p> + I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free + those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and their + request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness + of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that + which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered + their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence + took the place of distrust. + </p> + <p> + Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, + to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern + ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the + father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself + their master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any + decent society!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VII. The Lover. + </h2> + <p> + Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine + around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of + violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can + bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!” But + when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery + he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a + young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved, and I indulged the hope that the + dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the + land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind;</div> + <div class="i1">Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind.</div> + <div class="i1">Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows,</div> + <div class="i1">And each is tortured in his separate hell.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born man. + We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together + afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I + loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first love. But when I + reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the + marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but + I knew that Dr. Flint was too wilful and arbitrary a man to consent to + that arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sorts of + opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have + been delighted to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have + relieved her mind of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some + distant state, but if I was married near home I should be just as much in + her husband’s power as I had previously been,—for the husband of a + slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, my mistress, like many + others, seemed to think that slaves had no right to any family ties of + their own; that they were created merely to wait upon the family of the + mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave girl, who told her that a + colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I will have you peeled and + pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear you mention that subject + again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending <i>my</i> children with + the children of that nigger?” The girl to whom she said this had a mulatto + child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The poor black man who + loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his helpless offspring. + </p> + <p> + Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss + what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults + that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother + about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the + worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her + suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all + my hopes. + </p> + <p> + This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not + bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in + the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who often visited + the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a + friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great + influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I + told her I was aware that my lover’s being a free-born man would prove a + great objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent + to that arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable + price. She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to + suggest that perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that + would rid her of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised + to do her utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the + doctor, and I believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no + purpose. + </p> + <p> + How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his + presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next + morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in his study.” I + found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who + claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear + calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked + fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, “I have half a mind + to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the silence, and that was a + relief to both of us. + </p> + <p> + “So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger + fellow you honor so highly. If you <i>must</i> have a husband, you may + take up with one of my slaves.” + </p> + <p> + What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of <i>his</i> slaves, + even if my heart had been interested! + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference + about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight + pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt + above the insults of such puppies.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “If he is a puppy I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro + race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you + call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did + not believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the + first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my + anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, “You + have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be + my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I + had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you know what + you have said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I + can kill you, if I please?” + </p> + <p> + “You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to + do as you like with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you + forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to + your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne + from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How + would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me to + it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me + there than there is here.” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, that + you would forget the meaning of the word <i>peace</i>. It would do you + good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not + ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my + kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have + wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with the basest + ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable of appreciating + my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one + more chance to redeem your character. If you behave yourself and do as I + require, I will forgive you and treat you as I always have done; but if + you disobey me, I will punish you as I would the meanest slave on my + plantation. Never let me hear that fellow’s name mentioned again. If I + ever know of your speaking to him, I will cowhide you both; and if I catch + him lurking about my premises, I will shoot him as soon as I would a dog. + Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach you a lesson about marriage and free + niggers! Now go, and let this be the last time I have occasion to speak to + you on this subject.” + </p> + <p> + Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I + never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of hell;” and I + believe it is so. + </p> + <p> + For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; + to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable + addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base + proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his + eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly + than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to + make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange + letters with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I + was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the + house, he contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better + read it, and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It + expressed regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I + myself was wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the + injury I was doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he + had made up his mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several + slaves with him, and intended I should be one of the number. My mistress + would remain where she was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from + that quarter. If I merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would + be lavishly bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer + the following day. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I + laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my + answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young + mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to + stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his + letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I am your + daughter’s property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, + wherever you please.” He said he was very glad to find me so willing to + go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice + in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the story merely to + frighten me. However that might be, I was determined that I would never go + to Louisiana with him. + </p> + <p> + Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was + sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That + news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with + <i>him</i>. That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, + was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; + and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me + into the fields to work. Is it strange that I was not proud of these + protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect + than I had for a bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I + heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the + corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my + master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I + was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. “When + is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths + and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free + man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the + street! + </p> + <p> + Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no + hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron + will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an + intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission + to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to + protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the + insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I + knew they must “follow the condition of the mother.” What a terrible + blight that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For <i>his</i> + sake, I felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy + destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about a little property left him + by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly + entreated him not to come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, + where his tongue would not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of + more avail to him. He left me, still hoping the day would come when I + could be bought. With me the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my + girlhood was over. I felt lonely and desolate. + </p> + <p> + Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my + affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into + my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I + still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by + the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden + freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he + would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we + could get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier + said than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no + means of getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she + was strongly opposed to her children’s undertaking any such project. She + had not forgotten poor Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if + another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To + me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, + “William <i>must</i> be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow + him.” Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + </h2> + <p> + Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to + hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small + respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I + cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they + tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be + in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had + seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to + take her back to her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; + that many days she had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times + could get nothing at all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew + her master would not thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his + house. He ended by saying to me, “This is the punishment she brought on + herself for running away from a kind master.” + </p> + <p> + This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New + York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of + such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe + such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such + a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom + could make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and + children. If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as + some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is + more valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own + capabilities, and exert themselves to become men and women. + </p> + <p> + But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into + slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who + strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; + but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general + mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by + favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to <i>utter</i> such + sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of them! + </p> + <p> + Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will + sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and + daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior + order of beings? What would <i>you</i> be, if you had been born and + brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that + the black man <i>is</i> inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is + the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing + whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the + South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who + enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. <i>They</i> do the work. + </p> + <p> + Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the + Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for + them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are + employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud + to do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and + Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance + with their “peculiar institution.” Nor is it enough to be silent. The + masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of + subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they + respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise “a + northern man with southern principles;” and that is the class they + generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very + apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their + neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are + proverbially the hardest masters. + </p> + <p> + They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created + the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who + “made of one blood all nations of men!” And then who <i>are</i> Africans? + Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of + American slaves? + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad + opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are + aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most + ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; + and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about + white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom + for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, + and that it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law + from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it + over. She said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to + the queen of ’Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn’t believe + it, and went to Washington city to see the president about it. They + quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her + to make them all free. + </p> + <p> + That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to + whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate + to Queen Justice. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + </h2> + <p> + There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. + Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six + hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive + plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a + whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated + there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his + great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for + murder. + </p> + <p> + Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope + round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled + over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, + the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own + plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. + But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit + managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of + theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who + assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no + inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor’s back turned, than the + accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave + stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection + followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form + was attenuated by hunger and suffering. + </p> + <p> + A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the + plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of + wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. + They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled + them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was + a dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + </p> + <p> + Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after + nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + </p> + <p> + His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His + bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the + slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if they tracked him, they + literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his + shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. + His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money with me.” + </p> + <p> + After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars + were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a + rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his + grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was + found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was + again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were + never discovered. + </p> + <p> + Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor + of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of + intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of + his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front + of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly + cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A + member of the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he + might be taken down; but the master would not relent. He remained there + three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. + Another slave, who stole a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, + was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end + of two miles, he was so faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. + He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he + crept back that long distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his + master’s, it was night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He + moaned, and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same + family. At last his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate + man at the gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men + returned with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The + back of his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend + loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and + left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When + his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his + hunger. This was his crime. + </p> + <p> + Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there + cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and + did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place + of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old + slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s house. ’Pears I can + never get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + </p> + <p> + The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her + husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A + slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, + watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay + her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and + dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is got you + <i>now</i>!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun + to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy did strike + ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The master was + startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the + room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. + She confessed that what the child had said was true, and told how she had + procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + </p> + <p> + In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as + all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. + Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became + involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted + for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the + treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further + infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the + woods. He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half + naked, half starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to + his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on + bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor + slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have + whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of + the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched + creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with + strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal + sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which + was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could + not lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread + and bowl of water, which were placed within reach of the poor fellow. The + slave was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to + him. + </p> + <p> + Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On + the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When + he had been in the press four days and five nights, the slave informed his + master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that + a horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine + into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly + eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had + gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often + asked each other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she + should ever hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and + knew that James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the + qualities that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put + him into a rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have + been manifested for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a + slave; and the feeling was that the master had a right to do what he + pleased with his own property. And what did <i>he</i> care for the value + of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily + toil, they must hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to + extinguish their pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went + his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives + had gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall + asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn + called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, unless + they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on a par with + animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, who had run away + and been brought back to him. No one called him to account for it. If a + slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon + him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was + highly educated, and styled a perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name + and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower. + </p> + <p> + I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They + are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane + slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening + influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few and + far between.” + </p> + <p> + I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an + orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father + was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and + children living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their + mistress during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which + was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some + reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and + wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. <i>Her</i> religion + was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned + again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was promised in marriage to + a free man; and the day before the wedding this good mistress emancipated + her, in order that her marriage might have the sanction of <i>law</i>. + </p> + <p> + Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a + man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich + uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a + colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The + metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became + his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her + marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to + insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that + she had always been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any + where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their + comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a + happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, + they were convinced of its reality. + </p> + <p> + When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became + furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for + you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I + have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain + it for your children.” The unhappy father swore that nobody should take + his children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but + they were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two + oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service + to her master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were + carried to their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother, and, + when the slaveholder’s wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She + knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully + inculcated. She had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and + his offspring to his brother. She bore two children to the brother, and was + sold again. The next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead + drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before + the birth of the fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered + every kindness to the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. + She passed away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had + been made so wretched by the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve + his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of + drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good + master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and + the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. + Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife + a happier woman. + </p> + <p> + No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption + produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of + licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his + sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his + sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with + presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or + starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious + principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good + mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are + dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be + exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i20">“The poor worm</div> + <div class="i1">Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day</div> + <div class="i1">Shall pass, and she is gone!”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the + unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s daughters + always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs + he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear + their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is + excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young + slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as + should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the + women slaves are subject to their father’s authority in all things; and in + some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have + myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in + shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected + one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first + grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her + father’s more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over + whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her + father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending + black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had + given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + </p> + <p> + In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by + any who know its history. But if the white parent is the <i>father</i>, + instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the + market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be + their inevitable destiny. + </p> + <p> + You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was + twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own + experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well + as to the blacks. It makes the white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons + violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives + wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to + describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their + degradation. + </p> + <p> + Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin + occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton crops—not + of the blight on their children’s souls. + </p> + <p> + If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a + southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be + no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you + impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to + have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the + blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for + me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I + was constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a + home of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my + dreaded fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already + had high words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly + what she thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in + the neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of + Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to + build a house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and + expense, I was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; + but I soon heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my + Maker that I would never enter it. I had rather toil on the plantation + from dawn till dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from + day to day, through such a living death. I was determined that the master, + whom I so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, + and made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, + succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any + thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What <i>could</i> I do? + I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the + abyss. + </p> + <p> + And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would + gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. + It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, + and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to + screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not + so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master + had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy + the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of + my childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that + they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, + concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it + with deliberate calculation. + </p> + <p> + But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, + who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes + are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too + severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the + man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I + should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about + to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to + keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard + to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful + grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I + felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be + frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + </p> + <p> + I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy had + given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced + that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the + circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often + spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked + questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great + deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities + to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only + fifteen years old. + </p> + <p> + So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for + human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, + and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have + such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He + was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor + slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was + tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of + interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is + agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation + has left her any pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one’s + self, than to submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in + having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by + kindness and attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, + and you dare not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an + unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be + sophistry in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all + principles of morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them + impossible. + </p> + <p> + When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely + cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and + calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere + gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as + to know that I favored another; and it was something to triumph over my + tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by + selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a + man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my + freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came + so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of + children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a + new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them; + especially if they had children. I had seen several women sold, with + his babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain + long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I + could ask to have my children well supported; and in this case, I felt + confident I should obtain the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would + be made free. With all these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no + other way of escaping the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong + plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it + is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the + laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the + will of another. You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the + snares, and eluding the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at + the sound of his footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I + know I did wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful + and humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking + back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman ought + not to be judged by the same standard as others. + </p> + <p> + The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over + the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me + from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that + it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most + of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of + her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + </p> + <p> + As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the + thought of telling <i>him</i>. From time to time he told me of his + intended arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the + cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would + never enter it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You + shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + </p> + <p> + He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a + word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the + truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble + as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how + could I look them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved + that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, “Let the storm + beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, how humiliated I felt! + </p> + <p> + I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words + stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and + began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. + The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for + her children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily + expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a + sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this + well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. + Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me + concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been + previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O Linda! has + it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. + You are a disgrace to your dead mother.” She tore from my fingers my + mother’s wedding ring and her silver thimble. “Go away!” she exclaimed, + “and never come to my house, again.” Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, + that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes + never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from my seat, but fell + back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but the tears were running + down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me like fire. She had always + been so kind to me! <i>So</i> kind! How I longed to throw myself at her + feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had ordered me to go, and never + to come there again. After a few minutes, I mustered strength, and started + to obey her. With what feelings did I now close that little gate, which I + used to open with such an eager hand in my childhood! It closed upon me + with a sound I never heard before. + </p> + <p> + Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on + recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I + had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on + the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above + me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed + by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over + me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to + die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused + myself, and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had + been a friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke + soothingly to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my + shame if I could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my + heart to her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and + all I had been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. + My friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing + suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came + at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my + life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in + an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I + told her I would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes + of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead + mother’s sake. And she did pity me. She did not say, “I forgive you;” but + she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old + hand gently on my head, and murmured, “Poor child! Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XI. The New Tie To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with Mr. + Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe lamb,—whether + there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about character,—he + made no answer; but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to + care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made + the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how + I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He + intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could + have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he + have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the + cause of my sin! + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for + you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the + fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, + you shall feel the fires of hell.” + </p> + <p> + I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was + gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his + abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had + always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for <i>him</i> I + might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. “I + have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against you.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, with + ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could grind + your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless + rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who + don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. + You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master + was your best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have + punished you in many ways. I might have had you whipped till you fell dead under + the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. + Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your + conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here + for the present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. + After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and + who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; + that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have + explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most + shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. “I + command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your child is + white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I + did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he + would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a hissing tone. + </p> + <p> + “I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what + arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he + spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; but + your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good + intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from killing + you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + </p> + <p> + But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. + You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of + your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from + him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this + at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act + of mercy I shall show towards you.” + </p> + <p> + I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man + who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to + my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last + time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward course. + Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. + I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + </p> + <p> + Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had + calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew + the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + </p> + <p> + About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The + day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. + My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray + it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My + heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives + that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us + know what a year may bring forth. + </p> + <p> + I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, + though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last + consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had + done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! + The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps your mother + and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart + could now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives + ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate + of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had + experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I + should escape? + </p> + <p> + My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in + mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was + unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I + would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, + they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered + the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He + had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four + pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive + till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, + unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to + leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was + scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was + sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued + his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that + my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + </p> + <p> + I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in + silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not + remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was made the + medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and + of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, + cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my + brother; and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not + seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I + dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but + I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William + with a note. The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; + and he said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I + told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his + master’s will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He + demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He + flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon + his usual themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his + forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I + felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such + language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless + to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. + This manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do + nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so + early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity + to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a + trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly + incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there to + reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence + of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his + office work; but every thing went wrong without William. He was released, + and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not + careful about his future behavior. + </p> + <p> + As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year + old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my + existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and + pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I + loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over + my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished + that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. + The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold + that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, + but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was + heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her + dying child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought + that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated + him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that + he should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had + bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a + new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the + serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + </h2> + <p> + Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the news + threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, + when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + </p> + <p> + It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion + every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called + country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their + places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without + hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were + told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. + Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed + of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. + Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. + All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + </p> + <p> + By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles + of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it + would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing + annoyed them so much as to see colored people living in comfort and + respectability; so I made arrangements for them with especial care. I + arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as neatly as possible. I + put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with + flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at the window to watch. Far as + my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and + fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies + of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild + scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found. + </p> + <p> + It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their + own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief + authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting + that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves + in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed + such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on + innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the + slightest ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in + remote parts of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the + searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent + other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were + plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped + till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred + lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking + paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored + people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white + person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else + the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling + wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the + helpless. At night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went + wherever they chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal + will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their + way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were + tied up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies + about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had + the slightest tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking + together. + </p> + <p> + I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in + the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive + the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp + of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in + they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing + within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a + thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver + change was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from + them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, “What d’ye foller us + fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come to steal?” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I + will take it, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I + called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till + the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house + brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the + outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This + officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the + account of neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He + felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, + if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant + followers, who were unable to read. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that + was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, + “Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, said, + “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from <i>your</i> houses.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you seem + to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White folks + oughter have ’em all.” + </p> + <p> + His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got + ’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + </p> + <p> + There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, + proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my + things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their + contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. + I told him it was one of my friends. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I + told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. + “Bring me all your letters!” said he, in a commanding tone. I told him I had + none. “Don’t be afraid,” he continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them + all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey + him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? + half free niggers?” inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are + from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and + some I destroy without reading.” + </p> + <p> + An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our + conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet + had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving + fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; + consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained + these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was + helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, + “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when + dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take + the jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats.” + </p> + <p> + “And what <i>were</i> we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. + I evaded the question. + </p> + <p> + The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. + They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, + with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a + short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of + the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the + house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its + inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very + fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by + drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually + rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window + curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white + man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not + stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored + minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his + wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to + shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized + country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the + administrators of justice! + </p> + <p> + The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the + innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by + keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white + citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless + rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, + drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + </p> + <p> + The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people + that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed + with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw + horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled + by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail + yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with + brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not + fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the + conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even + heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a + story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + </p> + <p> + The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was + substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or + free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture + of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their + masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. + Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the + privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their + burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had + no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour + out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the + church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a + certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, + when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction + had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored + friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in + commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, + and all ye are brethren.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + </h2> + <p> + After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the + slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the + slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their + masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on + Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also + very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight with him. + The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The + Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their + carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. + It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free + colored man, who was a member. + </p> + <p> + I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, + trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by + daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to + encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his + office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. + When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The + reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all + present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the + portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + </p> + <p> + His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters + according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your + heart, as unto Christ.” + </p> + <p> + Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, + solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my + words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner + of evil. ’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will + surely punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You that live in + town are eye-servants behind your master’s back. Instead of serving your + masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly + Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. + God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden + away somewhere, feasting on your master’s substance; tossing + coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with + another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, but God sees you, and + will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! When your master’s work + is done, are you quietly together, thinking of the goodness of God to such + sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of + roots to bury under the door-steps to poison each other with. God sees you. + You men steal away to every grog shop to sell your master’s corn, that you + may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or + among the bushes, to pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you + out, God sees you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful + ways, and be faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your + old mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, + you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When + you go from here, don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go + directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have come.” + </p> + <p> + The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother + Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the + next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last + discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found + it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should be glad + to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for + the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that + the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since + its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but + pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from + his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist + shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious + meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than + sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded + Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + </p> + <p> + The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not + trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following + verses: + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Old Satan is one busy ole man;</div> + <div class="i1">He rolls dem blocks all in my way;</div> + <div class="i1">But Jesus is my bosom friend;</div> + <div class="i1">He rolls dem blocks away.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“If I had died when I was young,</div> + <div class="i1">Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung;</div> + <div class="i1">But I am ole, and now I stand</div> + <div class="i1">A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I + went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved + mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the + town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his + brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or + out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for + fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and + said to the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t you tell us how the Lord deals + with your soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, + help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and + I am left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, she + continued, “I can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all my children. + Last week they took the last one. God only knows where they’ve sold her. + They let me have her sixteen years, and then— O! O! Pray for her + brothers and sisters! I’ve got nothing to live for now. God make my time + short!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader + become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his + handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman’s calamity + might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the + bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his + divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!” + </p> + <p> + The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as + the birds that warbled round us,— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim;</div> + <div class="i1">He missed my soul, and caught my sins.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“He took my sins upon his back;</div> + <div class="i1">Went muttering and grumbling down to hell.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan’s church is here below.</div> + <div class="i1">Up to God’s free church I hope to go.</div> + <div class="i1">Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at + such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing + and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, + under constant dread of the lash? + </p> + <p> + The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had + been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was + large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different + clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored + people, who said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved him, + and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the + slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. + His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her and + themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to the + needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty of having + a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their + comprehension. After much argument and importunity, it was finally agreed + that they might occupy the gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many + colored people, hitherto unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to + hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood + them. Moreover, it was the first time they had ever been addressed as + human beings. It was not long before his white parishioners began to be + dissatisfied. He was accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes + than he did to them. He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains + upon those sermons than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in + such ignorance that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their + comprehension. Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should + preach to them in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the + midst of these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her + slaves gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, “I have + tried to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it + has not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but + prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. May + we meet in a better world.” Her liberated slaves were sent away, with + funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless + the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death her husband + preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at his departure. + </p> + <p> + Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former + congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. “My + friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity + of speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do + something for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet + accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live + according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; + but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color of their skins.” This + was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to + slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made fools of their slaves, + and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + </p> + <p> + I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were + beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist + church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he + should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He + came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for + he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it + came. I asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and that + slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This + brought the tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle Fred,” said I. + “I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, + that you might know the danger, and be on your guard.” He thought he could + plan to come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a + quiet nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught + him his A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As + soon as he could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in + the Bible. The happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my + heart. After spelling out a few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it + ’pears when I can read dis good book I shall be nearer to God. White man + is got all de sense. He can larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man + like me. I only wants to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I + hab no fear ’bout dying.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. + “Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + </p> + <p> + I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness I imparted, were + more than a recompense for all my trouble. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could + find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, + “Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I + don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I reads. + And he <i>does</i> help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + </p> + <p> + There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the + water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They + send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am + glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask + them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American + slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell <i>them</i> it is + wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own + children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that all + men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light of + knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for + sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + </p> + <p> + There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; + but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would + be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been + before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. + Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to + them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the + prison and the scourge. + </p> + <p> + Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are + the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the + poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so <i>easily</i> + blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has + usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The + slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes + himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred + topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table + loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees + the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of + favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with these + slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, “O, no, + massa.” This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a + “South-Side View of Slavery,” and to complain of the exaggerations of + abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, and seen + slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful “patriarchal institution;” + that the slaves don’t want their freedom; that they have hallelujah + meetings, and other religious privileges. + </p> + <p> + What does <i>he</i> know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn + till dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, + torn from their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into + moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained + to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The + slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell + of them if he had asked them. + </p> + <p> + There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the + south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the + treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is + called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the + church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it + does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much + surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the + character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after + he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had + been confirmed, certainly gave <i>me</i> no indication that he had + “renounced the devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his usual + talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, Linda,” + said he. “It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my + position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned + slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda.” + </p> + <p> + “There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be + allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as + virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + </p> + <p> + His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about your + infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my negro, to + talk to me about what you would like, and what you wouldn’t like? I am your + master, and you shall obey me.” + </p> + <p> + No wonder the slaves sing,— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Ole Satan’s church is here below;</div> + <div class="i1">Up to God’s free church I hope to go.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIV. Another Link To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. The + old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his + wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came + back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a + season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about + his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to + convince me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no + need of descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious + babe was the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent + contempt when he talked about my having forfeited <i>his</i> good opinion; + but I shed bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by + the good and pure. Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. + There was no chance for me to be respectable. There was no prospect of + being able to lead a better life. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he + called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps that + will humble you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Humble <i>me</i>! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated + my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders + have been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the + condition of the <i>mother</i>,” not of the <i>father</i>; thus taking + care that licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection + made me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid + visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall + into the slave trader’s hands. I wept over him, and said, “O my child! + perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw you + into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated + beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of + shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of + arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and + swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. + Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and + the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in + bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I swear by God I will never raise + my hand against you again;” but I knew that he would forget his promise. + </p> + <p> + After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the + pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can + describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too + revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s knowledge as much as + I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my + troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and + heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man’s tongue, she could + not always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should + try to defend me; but it only made matters worse. + </p> + <p> + When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than + it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more + terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, <i>they</i> + have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this + new crime against <i>him</i>, as he called it; and as long as he had me in + his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, + he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to + him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare + some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took + up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now stand there,” said + he, “till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a strong resemblance to + her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed + this; and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped + upon me and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the + grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his + vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He + took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my + face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness + before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he + hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but + I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There + was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I + was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to + life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived + only nineteen years. + </p> + <p> + Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. + Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I + dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted + at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we + resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away + from us. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having + the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not + venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a + patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. “Now is + the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the children to church, and + have them christened.” + </p> + <p> + When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I + felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without + any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal + rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to + <i>her</i>, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, + to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren were + presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother’s? + <i>Her</i> master had died when she was a child; and she remained with her + mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master; and + thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + </p> + <p> + When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father + stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I + added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for + my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled + skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified + me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + </p> + <p> + When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home + with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her for + this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be + fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly + I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s chain, whose + iron entereth into the soul! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XV. Continued Persecutions. + </h2> + <p> + My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an + exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of + these days.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into + his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them + given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children + could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. + Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my + friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to + leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with + nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. + “Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, + and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her + paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; + neither can he buy her children.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he + entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He + seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had + learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide + her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now + nearly five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad man come here + so many times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp the dear boy in my + arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the + problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child + left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. + “So you are left in disgust, are you?” said he. “It is no more than I + expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. + So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don’t like to hear + about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” There was a sting in his calling me + virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had + formerly done. He continued: “So it seems you are trying to get up another + intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you + may be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine + for life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I + would have done it; but you rejected my kind offer.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen + the man who offered to buy me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will you + say again that you never saw that man?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I do say so.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told + him to go to his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew nearer + to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was + too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the + room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” I + struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the + door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I + turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so + pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t know + whether I was very happy. + </p> + <p> + All the doctor’s former persecutions were + renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a + rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with + whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother + was out of the way he searched every room to find him. + </p> + <p> + In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold + to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her + because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter + life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near + ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. A few friends + had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to + spend with them the time that intervened between her sale and the + gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved + the trader the expense of board and jail fees, and though the amount was + small, it was a weighty consideration in a slave-trader’s mind. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. + He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she + took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His + gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. + “How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What right had you to allow it, + when you knew I had sold her?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. I + have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest + purposes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been + his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud voices, + and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to + let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook + to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher + and higher, and finally boiled over in words. “Get out of my house!” she + exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will + have enough to do, without watching my family.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of + sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by + compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the one to + blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and + more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” said she, “you + ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be saying your + prayers. It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your + soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + </p> + <p> + He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes + met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and + weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen + her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, + always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace + and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon + Slavery. + </p> + <p> + The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; + and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive + also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was + dreaming of freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I + planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of + overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + </p> + <p> + Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had + invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great + consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my + grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I + was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend’s house. + They sent me a dark wrapper; I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did + not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but + I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the + doctor came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did + not believe me, and sent to my friend’s house to ascertain the facts. He + came in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the + truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were + coming. “I suppose you need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised + at your being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for <i>you</i>. + Are you <i>allowed</i> to visit such people?” + </p> + <p> + I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; + but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any company they + keep is good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my + interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on + you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself + and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to + what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no + communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a + cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be + light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda—a + home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you + at times, your wilfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from + my own children, and I consider you as yet a child.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you speak?” + said he. “What more do you wait for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you accept my offer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and + replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there + are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will + be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you + and your children shall be sent to your young master’s plantation, there + to remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall + fare like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider + of it.” + </p> + <p> + He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready + to give my answer now. + </p> + <p> + “I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from impulse. + Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you + choose.” + </p> + <p> + On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my + master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be + impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he + gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. + The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But + then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect + was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare + me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, + and my weakness would be his triumph. + </p> + <p> + Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be + married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy + in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for + punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very + soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and + save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to + myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I + would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + </p> + <p> + On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise + choice. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” said + he. + </p> + <p> + I told him I had. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he replied. + “Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl + shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!” He + left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, + child, what did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was going to the plantation. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Must</i> you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + </p> + <p> + I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She + said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how + faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own + baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been + out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them + for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more strength for + the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in + saying, “He will listen to <i>me</i>, Linda.” She went, and was treated as + I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied her request. + He told her that what he did was for my good, that my feelings were + entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I would receive + treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight + my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for my + children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter + dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had + a determined will. There is might in each. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. My + boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old + wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to + be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the + time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what + purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far + as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short + as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow + him up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left + below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so + carefully tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the + yard. This was kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My + task was to fit up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst + of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as + busy planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed + to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to + a neighbor, “I’ve got her down here, and I’ll soon take the town notions + out of her head. My father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought + to have broke her in long ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and + it would have been quite as manly to have made it to my face. He <i>had</i> + said things to my face which might, or might not, have surprised his + neighbor if he had known of them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + </p> + <p> + I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, + so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness + before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it + would be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily + saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed + by the lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much + more must I suffer, before I should be “broke in” to that degree? + </p> + <p> + I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an + opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections + that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my + lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a + suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. + Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and + in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where + I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart bleed. I + was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked + out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in + search of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I + looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and + drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for + her if she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled + to hear some one say, “Did you speak to me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. + Flint standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, + away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This + generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he + had killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed + that incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put + Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to + have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required + attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware + that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + </p> + <p> + I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It + must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, + and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, + often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we + started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing + the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her bed room was on the first + floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and + she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by + should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round + me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and + thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. + As I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother + is here.” After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and + he sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that + it was I, he exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dead, are you? They didn’t cut + off your head at the plantation, did they?” + </p> + <p> + My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny + back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. + Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we + were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s + hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large + tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a + recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with + them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we + heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We + were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to their labor. I + divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing that he had lost + the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day in the field. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was + idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew + nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented + himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the + necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, + and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to + consent to that arrangement. + </p> + <p> + When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. + Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty + dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she + stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we + all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such + occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups + and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot + muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two + cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s delight. She invariably + declared that it was the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times + together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old + times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be + taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled + with grandmother’s best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with us, and + when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt Marthy’s” nice + cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was + angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She + would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother’s + feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had + nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor’s wife would gladly have + prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but + fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had + enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from + charity, however lavish it may be. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to + see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the + house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had + many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see + how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She + inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. + She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and + all my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for not until then + should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I + was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my + children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the + town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for + myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity + could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved + abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp + upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my + helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the + boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have + taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, + every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and + gave me fresh courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled + over me in a seemingly endless night of storms. + </p> + <p> + The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was expected + to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, + and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, + and return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various + orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It + was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever + asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. It needed more than one + night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday + would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A + calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a + day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever + spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last + talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! + Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, + better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom + that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from + it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my + poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There the wicked cease + from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest + together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free + from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as + I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or + to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother’s blessing when she died; + and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, + sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded + heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone + from my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as + I remembered my mother. + </p> + <p> + The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke + the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My + spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years + I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as + now. A black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all that + remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small + wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly + obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to + God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about to take. As + I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner’s + time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my + father’s voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached + freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. My trust in God + had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + </p> + <p> + My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a + few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get + discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently + finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I + knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children + comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was + packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I + was doing. “I am putting my things in order,” I replied. I tried to look + and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the + surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked + earnestly at me, and said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old + grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old + now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to + secure their freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your own + children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who + forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy + moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to + live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be + dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a + little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + </p> + <p> + My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that + faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I + would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, + she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She + don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to + reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I + loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was + the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + </p> + <p> + On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with + preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful + day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor + creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, + and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no such hopes + for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their + authority and importance would be best established and maintained by + cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to + expect that her rule over them would be less severe than that of the + master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the most cheerful and + forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their masters sleep in + safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon + their sufferings with less pity than they would bestow on those of a horse + or a dog. + </p> + <p> + I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She + was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion + at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy + future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds + would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and + told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid + old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to + please her. + </p> + <p> + All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind + the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my + life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who + would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not + made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting + the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I + had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, + considered my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing + could please her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was + just where she would have me—in the power of a hard, unprincipled + master. She did not speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her + satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent + than words. The old doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He + ordered me here and there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said + “your <i>mistress</i>.” I was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all + was over, and the last key turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God + had appointed a season of rest for the weary. + </p> + <p> + The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly + appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday + evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received + their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and + perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound + and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. + Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The + meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on + planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the + building, and when the first foreman called out, “Who takes this piece of + meat?” he answered by calling somebody’s name. This method was resorted to + as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young + mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she + soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their + allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family + through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the + mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were + too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered + much before he found rest in the grave. + </p> + <p> + My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old + Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her + daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the + conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could leave the + plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. + If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have + had no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage + to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, “Don’t neglect to send for + them as quick as possible.” My heart was on the watch all the time, and I + at once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next + day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, + “Don’t wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. + They thought my children’s being there would fetter me to the spot, and + that it was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our + lot as slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always + manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. + Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor + performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half + famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, + and the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was + ordered to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, + how do you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I + expected. He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow + they are going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, + Linda. I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable + to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought + to the plantation to be “broke in.” + </p> + <p> + To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely + information. It nerved me to immediate action. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVII. The Flight. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he + had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of + course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave + them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of + the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I + mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on + her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a + thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little one. I + therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as + I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in + their power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to + leave them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon + my dear old grandmother; and nothing less than the freedom of my children + would have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening + work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to + inquire why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my + work. “You have had time enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you + answer me!” + </p> + <p> + I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third + story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how + fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost + need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I + failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made + to suffer for my fault. + </p> + <p> + At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second + floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and + looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see + nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of + rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, + and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped + my way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning + speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house, but dared not see her. She + would say, “Linda, you are killing me;” and I knew that would unnerve me. + I tapped softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had + lived in the house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and + could be trusted with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard + me. At last she raised the window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run + away. Let me in, quick.” She opened the door softly, and said in low + tones, “For God’s sake, don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and + de chillern. Mr. Sands was here last week. He tole her he was going away + on business, but he wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de + chillern, and he would help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your + grandmother is all bowed down wid trouble now.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation + to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have + me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t want + de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery + inch ob dis house.” + </p> + <p> + I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to + know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all + my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint + and the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the + sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not + go out into the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed + where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and + motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to + them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I + knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, + and turned away. + </p> + <p> + As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my + shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my + account.” + </p> + <p> + I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house + of the friend who was to conceal me. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring for me. + She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He + watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any thing about her + running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, “Last + night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very + kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are + her children with you?” When told that they were, he said, “I am very glad + to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that + any of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I’ll + give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he started to go to his father’s, he + turned round and added, persuasively, “Let her be brought back, and she + shall have her children to live with her.” + </p> + <p> + The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a + busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top to bottom. + As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. + Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, + and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night + a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would + be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one + who went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he + would take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of + course she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before + night, the following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in + every public place for miles round:— + </p> + <p class="preserve"> + “<span class="smallcaps">$300 Reward!</span> Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto + girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, + and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a + decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all + probability will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, + under penalty of the law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given + to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and + delivered to me, or lodged in jail. + </p> + <p class="right"><span class="smallcaps">Dr. Flint</span>.”</p> + + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + </h2> + <p> + The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had + anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great + anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the + consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even + that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness + to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into + such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my + hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket + of bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a + reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which + loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so + dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and + slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was + compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into + the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my + look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and + vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The + application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread + of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend + asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the + bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in + vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part.<a + href="#linknote-1" id="linknoteref-1"><sup>1</sup></a> + </p> + <hr> + <div class="foot"> + <a id="linknote-1">1</a> The poison of a snake is a + powerful acid, and is counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, + ammonia, &c. The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge + the limb into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in + snaky places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—<span class="smallcaps">Editor</span>. + </div> + <p> + I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. + They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to + escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and + let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. + When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come + what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me liberty, or give me + death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my + relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they + said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and + that speedily; but where to turn for help, they knew not. God in his + mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + </p> + <p> + Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had + known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had + also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At + this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not + unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her + face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My + grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt Martha,” said + the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something to help + you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and sold + slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated them + kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was unlike the + majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked earnestly at her. + Something in the expression of her face said “Trust me!” and she did trust + her. She listened attentively to the details of my story, and sat thinking + for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think + there is any chance of Linda’s getting to the Free States, I will conceal + her for a time. But first you must solemnly promise that my name shall + never be mentioned. If such a thing should become known, it would ruin me + and my family. No one in my house must know of it, except the cook. She is + so faithful that I would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes + Linda. It is a great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word + to Linda to be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I + will send the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” + The place where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My + grandmother was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by + her emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + </p> + <p> + I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go to + a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of + prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was + to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, + but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I + disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the + appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I + expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so + intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave me strength. We + reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first words were: “Honey, + now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search <i>dis</i> house. When + I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I + specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s vocation led her to + think eating the most important thing in life. She did not realize that my + heart was too full for me to care much about supper. + </p> + <p> + The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over + her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said she; “I + keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not + accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless + they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care + of the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; + and you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I + will keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to + bring your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till + night. I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this + state of things will not last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot + supper,” and the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight + till she returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in + my throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that + deed of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + </p> + <p> + I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the + most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with + light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my + window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie + perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. + Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of + satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed + over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly + compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed + against the strength of their tyrants. + </p> + <p> + I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew + who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for + revenge than he did for money. My brother William, and the good aunt who + had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who + was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of + compelling my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my + grandmother should never see one of them again till I was brought back. + They kept these facts from me for several days. When I heard that my + little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. + I was encountering dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the + cause of their death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to + soothe me by telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children + while they remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the + good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister’s orphan + children, should be shut up in prison for no other crime than loving them. + I suppose my friends feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as + they did, that my life was bound up in my children. I received a note from + my brother William. It was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you + are, dear sister, I beg of you not to come here. We are all much better + off than you are. If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you + to tell where you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of + your friends; if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for + the sake of those you would ruin.” + </p> + <p> + Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice + and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, + because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being + her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and + eat it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he + could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me + tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold + them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she + repeated their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my + tears would flow. Old Betty would exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying + ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If + you does, you vil nebber git thro’ dis world.” + </p> + <p> + Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had + little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their + soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; + she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that + even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my + feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had + denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with + the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. + Flint’s. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, + and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home + to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and + his wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen + cried all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are + true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed + Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, + Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she + would be quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a + handy waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with + her white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope + the doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for + their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running + away. She hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its + calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of + jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! + When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, + and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What + do you stand there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off with the brat? Mind, + now, that you don’t let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!” + </p> + <p> + When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying + that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself + there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as + one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried + back to jail. + </p> + <p> + That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till + near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the house, and + thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with Linda.” He + knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so early?” said he. + “I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I + have found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I + shall have her before twelve o’clock.” When he had turned away, my + grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know + whether or not it was merely one of the doctor’s tricks to frighten them. + In their uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed + to my friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to + dispose of me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress + quickly. We hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. + She locked the door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin + and a bit of carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over + me. “Stay dar,” said she, “till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey + vil put thar hans on you afore twelve o’clock. If dey <i>did</i> know whar + you are, dey won’t know <i>now</i>. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s + all I got to say. If dey comes rummagin ’mong <i>my</i> tings, dey’ll get + one bressed sarssin from dis ’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but + just room enough to bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my + eyes; for Betty walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the + dresser to the fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing + anathemas over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, + with a chuckling laugh, “Dis nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the + housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might + hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my + being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they would answer, + that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; that I was in + Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were abed and asleep, + Betty raised the plank, and said, “Come out, chile; come out. Dey don’t + know nottin ’bout you. ’Twas only white folks’ lies, to skeer de niggers.” + </p> + <p> + Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very + still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my + mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing + to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my + discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that + chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too + dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the + house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in + terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the + constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I + did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It + seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and + that was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I + heard approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced + myself against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and + there stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, + and sunk down upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing you + would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may + even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He is so sure you + are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in + pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has + obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the + present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket + hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XIX. The Children Sold. + </h2> + <p> + The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his + purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. + My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also + was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on + his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine + hundred dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two + children. These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the + offer was rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor + would have sold any boy of Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he + could not bear to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed + for money, and he revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he + could keep Ellen till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; + but I presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At + all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the + slave-trader’s offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would + leave town. “To-day, at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do you go so soon?” + said the doctor; “I have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have + concluded to let you have the three negroes if you will say nineteen + hundred dollars.” After some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He + wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great + deal to attend to during the short time he remained in town. The doctor + went to the jail and told William he would take him back into his service + if he would promise to behave himself; but he replied that he would rather + be sold. “And you <i>shall</i> be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed + the doctor. In less than an hour the money was paid, the papers were + signed, sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children were in the + hands of the trader. + </p> + <p> + It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s + characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, + “Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not + to sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come too late,” replied + the trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in fact, already sold them to + Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons + on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass through the back streets when he took + his gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to + his wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, + supposing them to be the speculator’s property, and that she should never + see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want + to show you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row + of marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for + every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and + the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. It’s + wrong for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my mother.” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but + she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. + Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When + she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children + in the trader’s cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was + afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and + was carried home. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and + proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without + stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that + drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not + where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look + upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and + cries of despair. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and + Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going + “as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to agreement, my + uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. + There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, + “You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them + gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I + must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, + and call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he’ll + never git their mammy back agin. I expect she’s made tracks for the + north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must + thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That’s + going to be my last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a + fellow that’s got any heart. Move on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, + God alone knows where. + </p> + <p> + Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as + the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that + he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, + and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was + willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even without + charging the customary fee. + </p> + <p> + My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to + town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were + closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little + ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their + hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt + prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and + though such a “parental relation” as existed between him and my children + takes slight hold of the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be + that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness + he had imparted. + </p> + <p> + I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day + had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that + happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the + superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the + window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without being + seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there + thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of + serenaders were under the window, playing “Home, sweet home.” I listened + till the sounds did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. + It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and + knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst + of it appeared the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen + them distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not + how to account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I + felt certain something had happened to my little ones. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the + key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know + whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen + their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. + “Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, “you’s got de + high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll make a noise, and + ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done + cryin, I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed + ’em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear + you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no + sleep would come to my eyelids. + </p> + <p> + At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the + vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a + while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I + recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda + Brent’s children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa + Flint was mighty glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say they’ve + come back agin. I ’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They say he’s + bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I’m + going roun’ to aunt Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + </p> + <p> + I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my + children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? + The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty <i>never</i> come, and tell me the + truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had + overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish ting!” + said she. “I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is eating thar + breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! + t’aint right to keep you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell you. Brudder, + chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan nuff, tinking + ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he <i>vill</i> swar! He’s got ketched dis + time, any how; but I must be getting out o’ dis, or dem gals vill come and + ketch <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my + children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had + returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and + many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of my + children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I am glad + to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. + You need never expect to see <i>her</i> free. She shall be my slave as + long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. + If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running + off I’ll kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to + look at me, I’ll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out + of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his + own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to + strike her to the ground. + </p> + <p> + I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my + childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old + doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The + darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery + might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, + my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart + believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better + to trust than to doubt. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XX. New Perils. + </h2> + <p> + The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on + my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my + flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew + nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I + left my master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give + bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. + Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him + he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without + giving bail. + </p> + <p> + The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to + Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the + floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her + culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention + that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s imprisonment + would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. + Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my + uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way that would be + construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court + his word would not be taken against any white man’s. The search for me was + renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They + searched the house I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At + night, when all were asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of + confinement. The fright I had undergone, the constrained posture, and the + dampness of the ground, made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon + after taken out of prison; but the movements of all my relatives, and of + all our friends, were very closely watched. + </p> + <p> + We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already + staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of + perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends + had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my + persecutors made it impossible to carry them into effect. + </p> + <p> + One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my + room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it + was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some + noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend + came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. “I knows who it + was,” said she. “’Pend upon it, ’twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de + debble in her.” I suggested that she might have seen or heard something + that excited her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn + notin’. She only ’spects someting. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who + hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. I’ll + git missis to fix her.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat + ’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + </p> + <p> + She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep + Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her + he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I + was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any + where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my + situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for + me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took + Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a + kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I + never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling + fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of + sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a + small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, + she exclaimed, “I’se <i>so</i> glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t + forget ole Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness, but she + interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help you, + and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine wid you to + de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de + sailors.” + </p> + <p> + I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young + colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an + apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not + afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked + off. “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got a dagger, and + no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body.” + </p> + <p> + It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh + air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me + above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not + recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter’s sake, + as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked + on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband was a seafaring man, + and it had been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me + into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on + board. We three were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to + ask what they proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board + till near dawn, and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle + Phillip had prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been + bound north, it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly + have been searched. About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, + and rowed three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased + by the venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the + best that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + </p> + <p> + Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and + briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried + me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered + with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time they had so poisoned my + flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw + snake after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of + snakes all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To + this day I shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, + the number of snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to + thrash them with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos + were so high and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very + short distance. Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to + the entrance of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the + boat. It was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low + whistle, which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter + the boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; + for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of + snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when + they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I could + scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous snakes + were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in that community + called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of tobacco to burn, to + keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired effect on them, but gave + me nausea and severe headache. At dark we returned to the vessel. I had + been so sick during the day, that Peter declared I should go home that + night, if the devil himself was on patrol. They told me a place of + concealment had been provided for me at my grandmother’s. I could not + imagine how it was possible to hide me in her house, every nook and corner + of which was known to the Flint family. They told me to wait and see. We + were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the streets, to my + grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s clothes, and had blackened my face with + charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of my children + came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it + was. + </p> + <p> + “You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you may + not have another very soon.” + </p> + <p> + I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me + what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + </h2> + <p> + A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some + boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards + and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats + and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according + to the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet + long and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down + abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light + or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a + concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been + doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a + piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The + air was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. + I could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden + that I could not turn on the other without hitting the roof. The rats and + mice ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the + wretched may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it + only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the + same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not + comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there + was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to + them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, + through which I could peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It + seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day after day, without + one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a + slave, though white people considered it an easy one; and it was so + compared with the fate of others. I was never cruelly over-worked; I was + never lacerated with the whip from head to foot; I was never so beaten and + bruised that I could not turn from one side to the other; I never had my + heel-strings cut to prevent my running away; I was never chained to a log + and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning + till night; I was never branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On + the contrary, I had always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, + until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom + till then. But though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of + hardships, God pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + </p> + <p> + My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; + and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such + opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the + opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be + done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, + but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against + something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there + when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could + have been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. + I said to myself, “Now I will have some light. Now I will see my + children.” I did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of + attracting attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next + the street, where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet + in and waited for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; + then I bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one + hole about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the + night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I + watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. + Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. + Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of + children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as + though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. + How I longed to <i>tell</i> them I was there! + </p> + <p> + My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by + hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that pierced + through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother + gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. + The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me + from the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my consolations. Through my + peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I + could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear + at Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York + to a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and + had breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she + could find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her + reply; but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his + family that he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as + he passed on his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles + of land and water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still + greater satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. + My little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did + from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory + information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at + the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called + out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her.” The + doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get out of the + way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off your head.” + </p> + <p> + Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail + again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried the + words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had + our next conference at the trap-door; and begged of her not to allow the + children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become + accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain + position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great + relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold + penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. + The winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; + but the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was + peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bed-clothes and + warm drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep + comfortable; but with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were + frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest + upon, and no thoughts to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the + uncertain future! I was thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild + for me to wrap myself up and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. + Southerners have the habit of stopping and talking in the streets, and I + heard many conversations not intended to meet my ears. I heard + slave-hunters planning how to catch some poor fugitive. Several times I + heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and the history of my children, who, + perhaps, were playing near the gate. One would say, “I wouldn’t move my + little finger to catch her, as old Flint’s property.” Another would say, + “I’ll catch <i>any</i> nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what + belongs to him, if he <i>is</i> a damned brute.” The opinion was often + expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest + that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my + grandmother’s house, it would have been burned to the ground. But it was + the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery + existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to + tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them + into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay + handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away + from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, “Dr. Flint, I + don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New York; and when you go + there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but + if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll cut her head off, I’ll tell her + to go right back.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied + myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. + Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are + fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, + Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers + try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and + Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could + not have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the + pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new + suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought + him any thing. “Yes,” replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. + It’s the children’s mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that + can’t be,” replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new + clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time.” + </p> + <p> + How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that + many a tear fell on them while she worked! + </p> + <p> + Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. + Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They + consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the + lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over + them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ tails are + fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, + covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, + while others strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep + time. For a month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on + this occasion. These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the + morning, and are allowed to go round till twelve o’clock, begging for + contributions. Not a door is left unvisited where there is the least + chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of rum. They do not drink while + they are out, but carry the rum home in jugs, to have a carousal. These + Christmas donations frequently amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is + seldom that any white man or child refuses to give them a trifle. If he + does, they regale his ears with the following song:— + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“Poor massa, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Down in de heel, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Got no money, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">Not one shillin, so dey say;</div> + <div class="i1">God A’mighty bress you, so dey say.”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. + Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend + them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without + saying, “By your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, cook a + ’possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My + grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale; and it was her established + custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests + had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free + colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always + ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white + people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take + them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open + for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs + to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, + the rooms were all thrown open, that they might look in. When I heard them + talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored + man had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood + of a slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off + for white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised + him! As for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his + office were despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as + he did not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise + money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by + being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise + authority. If he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip him + as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the + guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her + nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw + them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So + passed the first Christmas in my den. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIII. Still In Prison. + </h2> + <p> + When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture + commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be + condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh + air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the + earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for + a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even + tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop + from the thin roof over my head. + </p> + <p> + During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room + to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so + stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all + my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, + either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I + suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed <i>him</i> to be out + in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the + only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon + me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I + should die before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl + through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most + terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the + roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. + Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, + and that was not comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I + could keep out by filling the chinks with oakum. + </p> + <p> + But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of + doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw + a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he + will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress had that + day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair + face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her + child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her + master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her + mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold + to a Georgia trader. + </p> + <p> + Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a + slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling offence + her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the + degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended + her wrongs in death. + </p> + <p> + Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as + these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he + stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery + was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the + master, and a blessing to the slave!” + </p> + <p> + I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. + My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I + had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and + tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was + impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother + William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched + tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire + whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to + consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself + leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with streaming + eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an + unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great + danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied + me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at + heart. How to get medical advice was the question. William finally went to + a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and + aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially + charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in + my little den? Charcoal in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet + for the gas, and it nearly cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already + kindled, were brought up in an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so + weak, and it was so long since I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that + those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some + good; but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind + as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, + dismal as it was, and even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for + the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate + Father, who would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other + times, it seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine + government. I asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and + why I had been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things + took the shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as + I trust it will be hereafter. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight of + anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best + friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, + how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I + could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + </p> + <p> + One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my + peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually + kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I + heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed + up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this and be unable + to go to him! + </p> + <p> + But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. + Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of + the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day + that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from + his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her + customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire + whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked + permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t + see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when she found other + ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in + Christian charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, + and stood by the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who + had been repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her + so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She + herself sent for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my + retreat, I should have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He + pronounced my grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her + attending physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have + him coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him + a chance to make out a long bill. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that + a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he had killed + him. It would be good news to send to his mother. <i>Her</i> day will + come. The dogs will grab <i>her</i> yet.” With these Christian words she + and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + </p> + <p> + I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and + gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could + now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of + feeling that I caused her death.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + </h2> + <p> + The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New + York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he + returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig + candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted + all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of + men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of + rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in + the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to + vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the street without + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event + which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my + children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. + Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not + to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. + Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since + the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I + supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother + concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + </p> + <p> + The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, towards + evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found + myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch + from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles + gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I + could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all + the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, + screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, + and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were + failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me + a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the + window, I said, “Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He + started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed + the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had + suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then + felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And + had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not + listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy + within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some + one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called me?” said he, + in a low tone. “I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, “I knew your + voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do + you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are + mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are all ruined.” I did + not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so + I merely said, “I thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and + so I came here to speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. + Many changes may take place during the six months you are gone to + Washington, and it does not seem right for you to expose them to the risk + of such changes. I want nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will + free my children, or authorize some friend to do it, before you go.” + </p> + <p> + He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness to make any + arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + </p> + <p> + I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to + crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for + I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the + house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom + window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over + night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we + should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to + wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + </p> + <p> + I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I + had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength + that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the + floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the + storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she + whispered, “where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here by the window,” I replied. “I <i>couldn’t</i> have him go away + without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here another + minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + I told her + I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle + Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back + to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and + asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I + was left with my own thoughts—starless as the midnight darkness + around me. + </p> + <p> + My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary + of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my + children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was + willing to bear on. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my + grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; + and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who + wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that + this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I + resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him + believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated + from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any + trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, + and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would + trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it + was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was + willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York + paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into + his pocket, and said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought + of a pedler yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next + evening. He bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; + brighter days will come by and by.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was + over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to + examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for + once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to + render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted + concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my + grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed + man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and + what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I + expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the north, where I + could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a virtuous example; + which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the south. I asked her to + direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, as I did not live in New + York, though I went there sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow + for the time it would take to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the + date to the messenger. When my friend came for the letters, I said, “God + bless and reward you, Peter, for this disinterested kindness. Pray be + careful. If you are detected, both you and I will have to suffer + dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare to do it for me.” He + replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t forget that your father was + my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children so long as God lets + me live.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she + might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might + say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure + mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order + that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I + whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it + will succeed. I shan’t mind being a slave all <i>my</i> life, if I can + only see you and the children free.” + </p> + <p> + I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office + on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say + that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter + he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring + it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the + next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and + asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I + might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound + of that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before + I heard the gate slam, and the well-known footsteps enter the house. He + seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, “Well, + Martha, I’ve brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, + also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston + for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a + respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. + With <i>him</i>, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay + his expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her + children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her + freedom, you’ll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no + objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + </p> + <p> + He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had + suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of + his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + “Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + <span class="smallcaps">Linda</span>.”</div> + + <p> + “It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, + rising to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and + wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip + about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I + should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + </p> + <p> + As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, + Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t see + you. How do you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my + mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and + you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + </p> + <p> + This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother + was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go + for me. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told + him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be + mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and nonsense, + Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row + in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she + wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust <i>you</i>. + The case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with <i>me</i>; + and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not + believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a + row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a + common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but + I forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no + wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she + arrives here.” + </p> + <p> + Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let + the cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of + Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the + street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date + in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated + from New York, the old man would probably have made another journey to + that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully + excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to + the conclusion that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place + to go to in search of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was + passed; before Massachusetts had consented to become a “nigger hunter” for + the south. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in + danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What + will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t been + there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he’ll find + out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish + you had never sent the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t + trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in + the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You have + been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will + break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every day to + hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, + poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go ‘where + the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’” My heart + responded, Amen. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me + that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no + suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to + keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, + and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I + resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time + to time. + </p> + <p> + Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, + grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, + sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was + allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and + remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, + except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the + upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the + curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much + better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came + down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o’clock, when people + began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the + piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into + my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a + painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first + mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space + of the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had + gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters + from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a + manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to + him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William + wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some + time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had + promised to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would + William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk + together, in our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it + very doubtful whether he would come back to us. + </p> + <p> + Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had + proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; + that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled + through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had + tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they + should be at home shortly. + </p> + <p> + We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, + but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late + in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I + felt almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he + no word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in + her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the + uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God’s could see me, I + wept bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my + children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + </p> + <p> + At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had + made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old + hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s plate occupied its + old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. + She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my + prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear + brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by + Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that + the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel + troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few + days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could + never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + </p> + <p> + If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the + messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old + grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I + was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother + had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a + good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had + incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, + who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their + emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father + was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises + made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, + depend upon many contingencies for their fulfilment. + </p> + <p> + Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and + anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it + seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the + children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it + would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as + only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has + gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May be he’ll find mother. If + he does, <i>won’t</i> she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle + Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; + wouldn’t you, Ellen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do you + know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do + you, Benny?” + </p> + <p> + Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an + old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had + witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts + unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that + my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, + “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?” + </p> + <p> + “O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my + children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and lay + my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He + staid at the north.” + </p> + <p> + Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is <i>dat</i> what you’s crying + fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t + know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t know + whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you <i>do</i> know whar her brudder is. + He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s + doings, but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + </p> + <p> + My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the + escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was + only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and + prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my + family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that + Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his + duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be + free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better + not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, “Don’t worry + about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur + me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to + give you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live + happy together.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving + him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him + as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no + idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. He’s young and + inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the + scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor + House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. + He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather + shabby, and asked if he didn’t need some money. He said, No, thanked me, + and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited + patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our + journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me + where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He + wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my + kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a + free man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive + him. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have + trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, + or send for him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me.” + </p> + <p> + I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had + not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could + give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at + his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had + he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he + might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his + freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be + seized by creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in + his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who + had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present + opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from + his master on false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his + passage to Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful + wretch, for thus requiting his master’s indulgence. What would <i>they</i> + have done under similar circumstances? + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they + chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations + of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he’ll never get + him again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon + Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in + the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of seeing those little niggers + march about the streets.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the + father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful + devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that + when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed him in + disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to + entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to + time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into + Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the + conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over + my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + </p> + <p> + A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands + and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a + fancy to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does he + belong to?” + </p> + <p> + Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the + stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, + Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the + children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to + them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The + question seemed a mockery. What <i>could</i> I do? They were Mr. Sands’s + slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. + Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any + decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sands + had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no + children of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to + adopt her, and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to + take Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost + beyond endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for + the sake of having my children free? True, the prospect <i>seemed</i> + fair; but I knew too well how lightly slaveholders held such “parental + relations.” If pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required + more money than could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought + of as a convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O + Slavery! Never should I know peace till my children were emancipated with + all due formalities of law. + </p> + <p> + I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I + could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to + remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his + honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, + and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep + the promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals + concerning my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had + promised to emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. + I knew there was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; + but what will not a mother do for her children? He received the message + with surprise, and said, “The children are free. I have never intended to + claim them as slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had + better be sent to the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. + Flint boasts that they are still in his power. He says they were his + daughter’s property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the + contract is not legally binding.” + </p> + <p> + So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were + between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was + powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. + Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his + relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that + she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, + as the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, + negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the + transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to + Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with + friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of + it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought + to me, that the bondwoman’s child should tend her free-born sister; but + there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it + tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without + a mother’s love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without + memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the + natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself + that I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire + that she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my + image with her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to + my dungeon. It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her + mother was a victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place + to which it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in + one of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to + think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them + I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that + I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate + it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the + rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my + purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, + and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and + went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years + since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken + shelter when my mistress drove me from her house; there came my old + tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid + in my arms; there I had watched over them, each day with a deeper and + sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the + wrong I had done. How vividly it all came back! And after this long, + gloomy interval, I stood there such a wreck! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The + door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I + put my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother.” + She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she + laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been + so long desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, + inquiringly, “You really <i>are</i> my mother?” I told her I really was; + that during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most + tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk + with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, + “I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why didn’t you ever come before? + Benny and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and + sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn’t you come home when Dr. Flint + went to bring you?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, + tell me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. + “Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, + where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a + letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any + body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, <i>do</i> go, dear mother!” + </p> + <p> + I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then + she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted + to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the + north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him + before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night + and sleep with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she + said, pleadingly, “<i>May</i> I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own + mother.” He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, “Ellen, this is + the secret you have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak + of it to any body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and + your mother can never come to Brooklyn.” “Uncle,” she replied, “I will + never tell.” He told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I + took her in my arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason + she must never say she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to + try to please the people where she was going, and that God would raise her + up friends. I told her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for + her poor mother, and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and + I did not check her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to + pour her tears into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, + and I had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose + any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead + softly, and she said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + </p> + <p> + Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window + curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, + and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when + I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad + for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last + kiss, and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I will never tell.” And she never + did. + </p> + <p> + When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone + in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for + Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to + her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. <i>Won’t</i> + you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, ma’am;” and they little + dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was + an affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she + loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard + the gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can + experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I + feared I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let + her go to Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my + experience of slavery that decided me against it. I feared that + circumstances might arise that would cause her to be sent back. I felt + confident that I should go to New York myself; and then I should be able + to watch over her, and in some degree protect her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after + Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on + Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion + very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his + own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” And as for sending + Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be + for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said + her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children + were her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could + take them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + </p> + <p> + Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now + in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable + for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not + understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, + after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. + Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely + to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his + hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of + things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I + could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + </p> + <p> + Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a + letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire whether + she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to + her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person + there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child’s + friends at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, + are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and + persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how + entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child + dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + </p> + <p> + If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, + curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of + Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote + to request that she would send her children away from the great house + before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman + could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The + existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was + only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance + to him. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. + It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had + just arrived. It contained the following message from her: “I do try to do + just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning.” I + understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to + my heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, “Ellen is a nice little + girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has + given her to me, to be my little waiting maid. I shall send her to school, + and I hope some day she will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed + and troubled me. Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she + was old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a + piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return + to the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away + from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to + us. I said to myself, “Surely there must be <i>some</i> justice in man;” + then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural + feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted + boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of + slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely + out of the reach of its power! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + </h2> + <p> + I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, and + who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from + him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as + slaves <i>can</i> marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, + and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without + any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they + pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint’s + chamber door, that she might be within call. When she was married, she was + told she might have the use of a small room in an out-house. Her mother and + her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep + there when he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was + ordered to her old post on the entry floor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a + mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could + she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at + her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature + birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on + the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her attentions. She kept + her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature + birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse + to Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of + rest at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint + declared it was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living + child. The fear of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them + to allow her to sleep in her little room in the out-house, except when + there was sickness in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one + of whom died in a few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember + her patient sorrow as she held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it + could have lived,” she said; “it is not the will of God that any of my + children should live. But I will try to be fit to meet their little + spirits in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. Indeed, + she was the <i>factotum</i> of the household. Nothing went on well without + her. She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she + supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I + lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us was very strong. + When my friends tried to discourage me from running away, she always + encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master’s + pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never + to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of + my children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to + leave them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own + life. After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she + could, to bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I + kneel down to listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a + crack! “I am old, and have not long to live,” she used to say; “and I + could die happy if I could only see you and the children free. You must + pray to God, Linda, as I do for you, that he will lead you out of this + darkness.” I would beg her not to worry herself on my account; that there + was an end of all suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in + chains or in freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who + had been the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; + and not me only. The whole family relied upon her judgment, and were + guided by her advice. + </p> + <p> + I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother + was summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was + very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. + Flint’s house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she + thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch by + the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each other; + and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, longing to speak of the + secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My aunt had been + stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the last day she was + speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, she told her mother + not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she would try to hold up + her hand, to let her know that all was well with her. Even the + hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying woman try + to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His eyes + moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful servant, + and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took to her + bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone with the + dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always been a + great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. “Martha,” said + he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I hope + you will be kind to him, for her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my + foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you + little know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her + children.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it,” + said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. She would + be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish + it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she + would be a great comfort to your old age.” + </p> + <p> + He knew he was touching a + tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, “It was + not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine + children only one is left. God help me!” + </p> + <p> + To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew + that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped + to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to + hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I + could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip + came into the house, I heard some one inquire, “How is she?” and he + answered, “She is dead.” My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew + nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over + me. I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died + happy.” I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look <i>so</i>,” + he said. “Don’t add to my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has + to bear, and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that + blessed old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting + storms of a slave-mother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently + without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health + by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she + became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful + illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if + the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for + the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in + the doctor’s family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed + interment in the white people’s burying-ground, and the minister knew that + all the deceased of our family reposed together in the old graveyard of + the slaves. He therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with + your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy’s <i>mother</i> may have some choice as + to where her remains shall be deposited.” + </p> + <p> + It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. + When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to + lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be + buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it + was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from <i>her</i>. She might + have added with touching pathos, “I was so long <i>used</i> to sleep with + her lying near me, on the entry floor.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; + and slaveholders are always ready to grant <i>such</i> favors to slaves + and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly + respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint’s minister read + the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond + and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our + family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the procession; and when the body was + deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and + returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty + nobly. + </p> + <p> + It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern + travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute + of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the “patriarchal + institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and + their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this + impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. <i>We</i> could have told them + a different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and + sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they <i>had</i> any + hearts to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the + poor old slave-mother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred + dollars to buy her son Phillip’s right to his own earnings; and how that + same Phillip paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as + doing so much credit to the master. We could also have told them of a + poor, blighted young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to + avoid the tortures that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come + out and look on the face of her departed friend. + </p> + <p> + All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting + for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes + falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + </p> + <p> + It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always + been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But + her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving + deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to + come to the trap-door, and each place had a different meaning. She now came + oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while + tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to + comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to + help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old + back was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + </h2> + <p> + I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived + in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no + space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to + me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that + long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now + living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + </p> + <p> + Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely + large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, I heard the + patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of + runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + </p> + <p> + Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, and + heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, + “Your mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled + away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I + was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know + when these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the + sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + </p> + <p> + After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that + Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; + and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect + them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my + den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out + of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some + one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they + spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been + laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted + attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a + process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs + were greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, + which I sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper + with me at the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense + sympathy for runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted + on those who were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the + sufferings of her bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and + dearest of her flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would + groan out, “O, don’t think of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no + good old aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my + children were continually beckoning me to the north. + </p> + <p> + And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the + first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to + new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might + reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On + the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my friends, named + Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s debts. My thoughts + were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what + had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and + her four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped + from her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie + I have spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my + grandmother, and built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling + was searched and watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I + was obliged to keep very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; + and not long afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her + mother’s hut. He told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of + it, explaining to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed + the trust. Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her + daughter was concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was + bending under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous + secrets deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + </p> + <p> + My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each + other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my + den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so + much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur + greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily + pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, + or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from + me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for + the North Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an + unexpected way for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and + asked to speak with me. “Your day has come, Linda,” said he. “I have found + a chance for you to go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to + decide.” The news seemed too good to be true; but Peter explained his + arrangements, and told me all that was necessary was for me to say I would + go. I was going to answer him with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny + came to my mind. I told him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I + was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint’s alleged power over my child, and that I + could not go and leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said + such a good chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could + be sent to me; and that for the sake of my children’s welfare I ought not + to hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My + uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, if + his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me as + soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought nothing + had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time of departure. + But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I left her so + suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said he, “and convince her how + necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You cannot be + blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens.” I was not blind + to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present source of anxiety, + and that the older she grew the more nervously fearful she was of + discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally succeeded in persuading + her that it was absolutely necessary for me to seize the chance so + unexpectedly offered. + </p> + <p> + The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak + frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I + made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I + resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give + him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting + for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to + whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon my writing to Dr. Flint, as soon + as I arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She + said she would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the + sake of having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she + could only live to know <i>that</i> she could die in peace. I promised the + dear old faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, + and put the letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I + resolved that not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay + rapacious slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I + had not been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, + common humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, + at the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she + was trembling on the brink of the grave. + </p> + <p> + I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further + particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained + several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder + committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this + unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told + the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the + neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about + runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate + awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and + groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat + contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was + grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + </p> + <p> + When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and + vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long + time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need + not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be + glad enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him + about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his + back upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to + help her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. + She was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were + made for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed + that I had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in + the transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and + stowed away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased + at a price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes + to go to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford + the cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from + slavery, the trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only + don’t betray me!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark + and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the + vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter + too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the + wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with + fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she + must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how + thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to + come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under + her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a + nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock + the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the + detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then + Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would + be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he + should die such a horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, + and all for his kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be + for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a + sharp pang through my heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak + soothingly to her. She brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear + daughter she had recently buried, and then she lost all control of + herself. As she stood there, trembling and sobbing, a voice from the + piazza called out, “Whar is you, aunt Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, + and in her agitation opened the door, without thinking of me. In stepped + Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I + was concealed in the house of my white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery + whar for you, aunt Marthy,” said she. “My missis wants you to send her + some crackers.” I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened + me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my + heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had + done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers, locking the + door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect picture + of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my carelessness has ruined you. + The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain’t + got another word to say against it now; for there’s no telling what may + happen this day.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that + Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised + getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very + still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house + down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because + suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate + with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him + too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter + had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at + once that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a + stronger woman this time. + </p> + <p> + He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had + shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of + urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with + her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the + captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his + vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, + but the boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on + board. + </p> + <p> + The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak + about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain + replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where you or the + devil would have a tough job to find her.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “<i>She</i> is in + great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if + you’ll stop and take her.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s her name?” inquired the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By + George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. I am + too grateful to you. But there really <i>is</i> another woman in great + danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + </p> + <p> + After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any + where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself + Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I want to + bring is Linda Brent.” + </p> + <p> + The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being + handsomely paid for his detention. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if + Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; + and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s family + till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. + I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of + it, and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to + betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + </p> + <p> + I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The + intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him + for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every + day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to + venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up + together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating + interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a + little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going away. I wish I could + go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been <i>so</i> afraid they + would come and catch you!” + </p> + <p> + I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he + had found it out. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went + away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know what + made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night + before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in + the night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see <i>you</i>, before she + went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and + remember never to tell.’” + </p> + <p> + I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he + never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other + children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to + the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had + kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a + constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that + I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the + house, and I had at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his + actions. Such prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, + but slaves, being surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early + learn to be suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. + He had never asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had + often heard him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being + at the north. + </p> + <p> + I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a + good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord + would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live + together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all + day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a + small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a + part of it, at least, to pay for Benny’s being sent to the north; but she + insisted, while her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. + “You may be sick among strangers,” she said, “and they would send you to + the poorhouse to die.” Ah, that good grandmother! + </p> + <p> + For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer + chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the + blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever + that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old + grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, + after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely + round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again + descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took + me by the hand, and said, “Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, + with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, + loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has + it ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and + protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in + God. + </p> + <p> + Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in + body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, + though I felt that I should never see it again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXX. Northward Bound. + </h2> + <p> + I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, + and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle + Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might + reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. + A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something + pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. + He whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping into the doctor’s window, and + he’s at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; I’ll come.” He hastened away. I + clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, + the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks + to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed + with joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to + escape. Yet that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a + chattel! Liable, by the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to + be sold with horses and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all + too full for words! + </p> + <p> + Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors + said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your + husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; + but I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something + the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should + have pleasant weather. + </p> + <p> + When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an + elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of + a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a + spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, “Linda, can + this be <i>you</i>? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked in each + other’s arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My + sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded + us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us + not to attract any attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight + he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he had no objection to our + being on deck. He assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we + acted prudently, he thought we should be in no danger. He had represented + us as women going to meet our husbands in ——. We thanked him, + and promised to observe carefully all the directions he gave us. + </p> + <p> + Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. + She told me of the sufferings she had gone through in making her escape, + and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s house. Above + all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that + dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the + place where I had passed nearly seven years. “We have the same sorrows,” + said I. “No,” replied she, “you are going to see your children soon, and + there is no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine.” + </p> + <p> + The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was + against us. I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight + of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our + enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables + would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain + and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had + heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely + in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be + dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be + tempted to make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as + property? I was naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made + me suspicious of every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the + captain or his men. She said she was afraid at first, but she had been on + board three days while the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed + her, or treated her otherwise than kindly. + </p> + <p> + The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His + friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, reassured + me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and + occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by + birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and + that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. “But,” said he, + “it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to + acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” As we passed Snaky Swamp, + he pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave territory that defies all + the laws.” I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it + was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at + it. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so + refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly + sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating + breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never + realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived + of them. + </p> + <p> + Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain + said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better + wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to + avoid suspicion. + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + </p> + <p> + He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had + brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in + him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it + was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the + night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. + Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if + Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he + could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, + had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had + intrusted us. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I + called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free + soil; for such I <i>then</i> believed it to be. We watched the reddening + sky, and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. + Soon the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful + glow. Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and + the eyes of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, + and we supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone + in the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered + by the demon Slavery. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + </h2> + <p> + I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted + we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that + all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind + captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease + to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to + the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were + placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood + wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain + touched me on the shoulder, and said, “There is a respectable-looking + colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and + tell him you wish to go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to + direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and + said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste + I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with + salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the + great city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double + veils and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so + many levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. + I thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I + gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and + found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the + captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, + minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old + friend. He told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and + must wait until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home + with him, assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and + for my friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked + him for so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, + I should like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of + the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he + would assist me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. + I shook their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind + to us, and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly + conceive of. + </p> + <p> + I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people + in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an + expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting + on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide + to what nation I belonged. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I + was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! + I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received + her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home + made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken + of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in + looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retraced our + steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed + that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was + surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He + was approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask + about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would + he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other + at the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some + of the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; + but I would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I + thought he ought to know how far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have + tried your feelings,” said he. “I did not question you from idle + curiosity. I wanted to understand your situation, in order to know whether + I could be of any service to you, or your little girl. Your + straight-forward answers do you credit; but don’t answer every body so + openly. It might give some heartless people a pretext for treating you + with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + That word <i>contempt</i> burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God + alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am + permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live + in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + “I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be + governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + </p> + <p> + When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a + while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They + brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my + meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, + her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery + friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of + encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked + concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how + careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. + How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have + been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale + of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my + plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably + established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The + Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New York. The same was + offered to me, but I declined to accept it; telling them that my + grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to the end of my + journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a few days, until some + suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition, + for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, and some dread also of + railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in my life, and it seemed to + me quite an important event. + </p> + <p> + That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it + before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a + long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by + fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, + every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white + people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for + insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored + people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was + but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often + required to drag it to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s + daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept through + all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What’s the matter?” + said she, rubbing her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I + replied. + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get up, + without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + </p> + <p> + I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill + the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things + went on in great cities. + </p> + <p> + At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and + various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early + hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. + Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast + table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I + joined in the mirth. + </p> + <p> + I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends + that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind + hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. + Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of + knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. + One day she took me to an artist’s room, and showed me the portraits of + some of her children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people + before, and they seemed to me beautiful. + </p> + <p> + At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to accompany + us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good + hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had + repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made + any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will have + a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first class cars.” + + </p> + <p> + Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” said + he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored people + to go in the first-class cars.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored + people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the + south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made + me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + </p> + <p> + We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too + high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, + apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, + containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or + pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes + of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, + and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs + around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been + some improvement in these matters. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + </h2> + <p> + When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen + calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to + Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and + said, “I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price + was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. “Troth + an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each + other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. “Yes, it’s dacent + it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ ladies in a cab that was + not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon + reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, ladies.” We followed, and + found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on + them. We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the + trunks off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six + shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I + was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head + for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had + our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house + in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The + Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of + her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of + the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He + came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him + to aid me in procuring an interview. + </p> + <p> + I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just + arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north + seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came + from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my + daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he + agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle + Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, + when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, + and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to + live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised + and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and + inquired concerning her mother. + </p> + <p> + “You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and + there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from + me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years + since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less + observing than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go into the house; + but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as + quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and + see me. It was agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her + companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I + entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her + return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, “Where is Linda Brent? I + used to know her father and mother.” Soon Sarah came with her mother. So + there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother’s neighborhood. + These friends gathered round me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, + they cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I had got away from my + persecutors and was safe on Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. + How different from the silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + </p> + <p> + The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with + the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That + I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should + have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I + had just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of + my having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on + several people. + </p> + <p> + I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to + subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon + slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no + alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I + had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my + daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, + inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. + The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I + asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no + heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an + unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she + asked very earnestly, “Mother, when will you take me to live with you?” It made + me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and + earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed + with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school. She + had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely + knew her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public + schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + </p> + <p> + She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a + friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a + useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, “I + suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has <i>given</i> her to my + eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows + up.” I did not answer a word. How <i>could</i> she, who knew by experience + the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware of the + relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how <i>could</i> she look me + in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + </p> + <p> + I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of + ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and + afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps + they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s knowledge was + quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient to go to work + and earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. + Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been + deceived about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt + that I had none. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to + protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called + myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down + that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the + lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his + daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + </p> + <p> + Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother + William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in + Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New + Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling + voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to + get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave + me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my + rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I + lent this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a + copy to my readers. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIII. A Home Found. + </h2> + <p> + My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly + improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I + walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who + employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, + I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so + faithfully served. + </p> + <p> + One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, + and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she + preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of + infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many + questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from + my former employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a + pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice + against color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try + each other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and + I was engaged for a month. + </p> + <p> + The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this + place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and + sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of + passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so + painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would + have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save + me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told + her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and + kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, + and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant + feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to + confide in; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost + all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was + for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful + feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had + passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of + her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began + to expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the + opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had + leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more + cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, + often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a + home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to + accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my + precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was + important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor + and economy, I could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling + satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not well cared for. She + sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she generally brought a + request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some + article of clothing. This was accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. + Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became due; but some how or other the + pay-day never came. Thus many dollars of my earnings were expended to keep + my child comfortably clothed. That, however, was a slight trouble, + compared with the fear that their pecuniary embarrassments might induce + them to sell my precious young daughter. I knew they were in constant + communication with Southerners, and had frequent opportunities to do it. I + have stated that when Dr. Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she + had an inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still + troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New + York for a while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known + oculist. It did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a + mother’s making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused + to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I + made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s part + towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as + if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her own physician + to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my request because she + did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. I accepted the + explanation in silence; but she had told me that my child <i>belonged</i> + to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was a fear of my + conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her injustice; but my + knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that + it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. When it + laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms + confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and + Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, + as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was + attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was closely observing + every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my + brother William? It <i>must</i> be he—and yet, how changed! I placed + the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the + sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my brother’s arms. How + much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over + each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with + Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended so carefully, while I + was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New York a week. His old + feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as lively as ever. There are + no bonds so strong as those which are formed by suffering together. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + </h2> + <p> + My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my + letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I + received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In + order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear + in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. + They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three excursions to New York + in search of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five + hundred dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way + to the steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt + Nancy’s death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I + have kept the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + </p> + <p> + “Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher.”</p> + +<p> + This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I + knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and + though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in + former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the + hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to + go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the + African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their + cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged + with base ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the + south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The + letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. + Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important + business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked + permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. + I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to + my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she + was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, + she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She + was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred + to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he + advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may + have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known + to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is + thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes + unpopular. + </p> + <p> + There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to + New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested + to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my + door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” he exclaimed, + “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d’you do?” + </p> + <p> + O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a + slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. + “Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see + her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I + wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t + know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost + all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose free boys + can get along here at the north as well as white boys.” + </p> + <p> + I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was + mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The + rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, + with the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with + us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and + be sure to tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon + me, and invite me to return with him; but not being able to ascertain + where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the + affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were doomed + to disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of + my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through + the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and + finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the + considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews + with my darling daughter. + </p> + <p> + But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was + necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh + air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might + recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like + one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a + comfort it is, to be free to <i>say</i> so! + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + </h2> + <p> + It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We + went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for + tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come + to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby had her supper, + but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being + insulted.” “O no, not if you are with <i>me</i>,” she said. I saw several + white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were + at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff + voice said, “Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here.” I looked + up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a + colored man. If his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the + boat, he might, at least, have done it politely. I replied, “I shall not + get up, unless the captain comes and takes me up.” No cup of tea was + offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked + to see whether the other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They + were all properly waited on. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making + a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and we’ll go + in together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will you allow + your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew this was to + be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I + did not mind it. + </p> + <p> + At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took + one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, + of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but + here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round + me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize + me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + </p> + <p> + We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the + remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the + clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see + Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, + were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has + come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” I accepted the + warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and + would try to see her when I came back. + </p> + <p> + Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim Crow + car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the + streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same + manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, + and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway + before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a large hotel, beautifully + situated by the sea-side—a great resort of the fashionable world. + Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of + the ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only + nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took + little Mary and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long + hall. A young man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the + table two or three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower + end of it. As there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my + lap. Whereupon the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner + possible, “Will you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand + behind it and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the + kitchen, where you will have a good supper.” + </p> + <p> + This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I + looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade + lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence + were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in + my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce + ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered + for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they + soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The + landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his + servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of + other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + </p> + <p> + My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with <i>themselves</i>, + for not having too much self-respect to submit to such treatment; that + there was no difference in the price of board for colored and white + servants, and there was no justification for difference of treatment. I + staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand up for my + rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man and woman + do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot by our + oppressors. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + </h2> + <p> + After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and + see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. + Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid + seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted + on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said she, “and he is + sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told + me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many + little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her + grandchild.” + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the + south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old + slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom + they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he + professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a + distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was + nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be + the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He + met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from + slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + </p> + <p> + I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful + child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant + lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own + inconveniences and troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily perceived + that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her + unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing + was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very + grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation + that was continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very + often for rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and + Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so + that they had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. “But for all + that,” said she, “Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I + feel sorry for him.” I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had + laid up a hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give + her and Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous + not to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover + till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only + annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to + my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile + language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + </p> + <p> + I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found + Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said she, + “I’ve been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne has + written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. + Hobbs will tell you all about it!” + </p> + <p> + The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine + arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, + which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the + time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the + pieces and carried them to the children, saying, “I wonder who Mr. Thorne + has been writing to.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the + children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been writing + to the south about my mother.” + </p> + <p> + They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put + the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were + no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I declare, Ellen, I + believe you are right.” + </p> + <p> + The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as + follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can + be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here + to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my + country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” He concluded by + informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children + carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother’s + room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they + saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to + the post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint + a copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, + and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the + next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of + the family were astir. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city + with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and + all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that + demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I + had not concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would + have made her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind + heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told + her all the particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was + necessary for her to know how I was situated. I had once left her + abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do + it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness + of my face attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, + I poured out my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true + womanly sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. + How my heart blessed her! + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. + They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great + if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house + of one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my + brother could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my + thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was + also mine by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that + made her so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. + Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my + entreaties, on condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided + making any promise. She came to me clad in very thin garments, all + outgrown, and with a school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. + It was late in October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring + to go out in the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel + skirt and converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me + good by, and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, + the tears came to her eyes. She said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. + She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of + such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go + to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in + that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers + that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. + </p> + <p> + We reached the + steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I + knew that colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very + desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure + to the night air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting + on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular + favor, that she would treat us well. He said to me, “Go and speak to the + captain yourself by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure + that he will not let her sleep on deck.” With these kind words and a shake + of the hand he departed. + </p> + <p> + The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home + where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to + purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he + would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave + me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner + I said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot + possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter.” She assured me + there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were + allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much + travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain’s office, + and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the + hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our + tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was + contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he + would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he + was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the + boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came + afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that + he had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very + much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether the + pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the + stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, and + had pleaded with him in my behalf. + </p> + <p> + When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and + showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to + take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on + toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we + reached Boston in safety. + </p> + <p> + The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if + I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during + many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed + their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a + swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + </p> + <p> + I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, + that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to + Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me + for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her + age, so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her + myself till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter + passed pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with + their books. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVII. A Visit To England + </h2> + <p> + In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in + this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. + I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. + Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s relatives in + England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little + motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she + would be happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn + more in this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and + left Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + </p> + <p> + We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage + of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the + Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had + seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. + For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated + according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as + if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a + pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, + for the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, + unadulterated freedom. + </p> + <p> + As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the + wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed + through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in + our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days + with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to + accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English + education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight + in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates + and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good + management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did + not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like + all children—sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + </p> + <p> + We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be + the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six + shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and + sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they + lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a + woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of + meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the + cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the + United States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of + the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among + the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched + cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant + among them was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves + in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while + the stars were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through + heat and cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very + humble; but they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in + the dead of night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he + closed his cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master + or overseer could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They + must separate to earn their living; but the parents knew where their + children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The + relations of husband and wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the + richest noble in the land to violate with impunity. Much was being done to + enlighten these poor people. Schools were established among them, and + benevolent societies were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. + There was no law forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they + helped each other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of + thirty-nine lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle + Fred. I repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these + peasants was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American + slave. + </p> + <p> + I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to + paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the + condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of <i>my</i> + experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If + she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the + fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation + in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her + tell quite a different story. + </p> + <p> + My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my + having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous + manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in + my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; + and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the + gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole + service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in + the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of + his daily life inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian + professions. Grace entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I + trust, in true humility of soul. + </p> + <p> + I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had + anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of + prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came + for us to return to America. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + </h2> + <p> + We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to + rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be + afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I + hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and + improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had + been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every + thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his + fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they + had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at once + transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were + Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their + dignity to have a “nigger” among them, after they had been told that he <i>was</i> + a “nigger.” They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that + he returned the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too + spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do + something to support himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped + for a whaling voyage. When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and + bitterly reproached myself for having left him so long. But I had done it + for the best, and now all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to + guide and protect him. + </p> + <p> + Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily + Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + </p> + <p class="preserve"> + “In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress.”</p> + <p> + Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I + felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such + professions. + </p> + <div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="i0">“‘Come up into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly;</div> + <div class="i1">‘’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.’”</div> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <p> + It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, since + they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from + them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in + future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education + of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, + but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a + piece of property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and + during that time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many + comforts in food and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but + though Dr. Flint had incurred no expense for their support, he had + received a large sum of money for them. I knew the law would decide that I + was his property, and would probably still give his daughter a claim to my + children; but I regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had + no rights that I was bound to respect. + </p> + <p> + The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts + had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so + called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I + relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware + that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XXXIX. The Confession. + </h2> + <p> + For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. + At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a + boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with + her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two + little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish + feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we + had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her + father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a + shrinking dread of diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have + curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was + always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now + that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, + she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the + palliating circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the + subject, her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + </p> + <p> + When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to leave + you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve + myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + </p> + <p> + I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, + solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; I + have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, + and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they + had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and + exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, + and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five + months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as + he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for + Fanny’s nurse told me so; but she said I must never tell any body, and I + never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he + did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I + thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl + then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any thing about my + father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I + thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not + diminished the affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she + knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her + long before; for my pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves + out to some one I could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the + delicacy she had manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the + village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if + all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I + was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, + requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my + return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an + anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of + some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried + it, but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, + but the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I + passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical + believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a + man’s worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those + beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + </h2> + <p> + My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to + California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen + liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her + history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make + capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered + that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase + her advantages and diminish her expenses. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I + preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from + Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling + little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a + cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl + now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was + proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one + hesitation, and that was my feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly + increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to + try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. + Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic influences, and still + living in the midst of them; but if she had any prejudice against color, I + was never made aware of it; and as for the system of slavery, she had a + most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry of Southerners could blind her to + its enormity. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. + To me, from that hour to the present, she has been a true and sympathizing + friend. Blessings be with her and hers! + </p> + <p> + About the time that I reëntered the Bruce family, an event occurred of + disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first + fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of + the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign + of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl + of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals of the + poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of + Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted + colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from + Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, + fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made + herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a + hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in + Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that + her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. + Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery + years ago, and as “the child follows the condition of its mother,” the + children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. + Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. + But what cared the legislators of the “dominant race” for the blood they + were crushing out of trampled hearts? + </p> + <p> + When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to + California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our + oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I + seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our + oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did + not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by + his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent + and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; + and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the + family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What + a disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of + offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be + condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for + protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu + vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their + persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the + newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I + did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might + be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if + necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that + “knowledge should be increased.” + </p> + <p> + This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly + relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to + a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter + heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was + included in the son’s portion. This young man became a prey to the vices + growing out of the “patriarchal institution,” and when + he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with + him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive + dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose + despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own + helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial + occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel + beside the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. + Some days he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to + be in readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving + more or less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town + constable was sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from + experience how much more the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than + the comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew + weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in + constant requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s + care, and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring + any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to + increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere + degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of + despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable + was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy + to be repeated. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke + still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + </p> + <p> + One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was + hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man + approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I + recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had + escaped from the black pit; but, remembering this poor fellow’s extreme hardships, I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern + soil, though I no longer called it <i>free</i> soil. I well remembered + what a desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up + to him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I + mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive + Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was a city of + kidnappers. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I runned + away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem + speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain’t + sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk good car + ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis nigger.” + </p> + <p> + He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. + I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon it, I + hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days fur dem + cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger + had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he + lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil + would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his money ’long too. So I tuk + some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he + was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” + With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see I didn’t <i>steal</i> it; + dey <i>gub</i> it to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de + speculator from findin it; but he didn’t git it.” + </p> + <p> + This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. + When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws + sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard + to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat + enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused + Luke, in thinking he had a <i>right</i> to that money, as a portion of his + unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from + him. + </p> + <p> + All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children + out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. + I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their + appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws + as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called + free! + </p> + <p> + Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew + of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me + caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s + children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which + slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at + their cupidity and mean servility. + </p> + <p> + I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt + measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied + immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should + carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for + the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how + few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a + fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of + the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice + she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, “It is + better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your + track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there + is a possibility of saving you, you shall be saved.” + </p> + <p> + This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many + respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for + harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her + country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, “I am + very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. + Shame on my country that it <i>is</i> so! I am ready to incur the penalty. + I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have any poor victim torn + from <i>my</i> house, to be carried back to slavery.” + </p> + <p> + The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write + of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my + persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a + senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable + gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the + senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was strongly opposed + to it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me + remain in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I + remained a month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint’s + emissaries had lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, + I returned to New York. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + XLI. Free At Last. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I + was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a + cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was + doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to + breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; + and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized + country. + </p> + <p> + From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could + not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an + extract from one of her last letters:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + “Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God’s children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother.” +</div> + <p> + These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have + tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her + messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I + mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned + from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she + wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! + I hope he made his peace with God.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she + had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress + had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to + myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely + forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master’s + death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the + grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his + memory is odious now. + </p> + <p> + His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had + threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after + he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of his + survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I + supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried several + children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. The doctor + had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to will to his + heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I was well aware + what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my fears were + confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my guard, + because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not afford to + lose so valuable a slave as I was. + </p> + <p> + I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, + being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I + went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy + about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list + of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine + the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. + and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, + and that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that + they were short of funds and had need of my value, as <i>they</i> valued + me; and that was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. + Bruce. Her heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and + she always warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how + near the enemy was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we + were sleeping. He might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I + ventured out of doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, + and therefore I could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A + carriage was hastily ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, + taking the baby again with me into exile. After various turnings and + crossings, and returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of + Mrs. Bruce’s friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned + immediately, to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to + inquire for me. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had + a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. + Bruce’s return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. + One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said + he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in + person. + </p> + <p> + They were told, “She <i>has</i> lived here, but she has left.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she went?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee + pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. + He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and + married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and + the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to + remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had + become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for + support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should + make an effort to put me into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most + implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge + had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make + inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint’s family + were well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, + and he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. + Dodge’s room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly + inquired, “What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to + ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give + any offence.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “What girl, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s + plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to + buy her freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would + go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her + freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn’t + do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her + children.” + </p> + <p> + This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. + My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I + received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in + the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business + was very plain. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. + She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me + might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an + earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, + disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been + chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to + end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring + to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for + afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, “Will the + preachers take for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the + opening of prison doors to them that are bound’? or will they preach from + the text, ‘Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you’?” Oppressed + Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell + was free to proclaim in the City Hall his desire for “a plantation well + stocked with slaves;” but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring + to show my face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on + that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, “Oppression makes even a wise man + mad;” and I was not wise. + </p> + <p> + I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her + right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This + it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. + Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young + daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had + suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger’s when a + hunter tries to seize her young. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned + away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations + unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o’clock in the evening + arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend + became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk + for my journey—trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. + I yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + </p> + <p> + The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New + England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to + me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, + informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she + intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt + grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not + so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become + enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an + article of property; and to pay money to those who had so grievously + oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I + wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being sold from one + owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such a great + obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my + brother in California. + </p> + <p> + Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter + into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars + down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish + all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my + master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The + gentleman replied, “You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this + offer you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will + convey her and her children out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he + agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief + letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your + freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you + and my sweet babe.” + </p> + <p> + My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s + true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words + struck me like a blow. So I was <i>sold</i> at last! A human being <i>sold</i> + in the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future + generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New + York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may + hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to + measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well know the + value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to + look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, + but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully + belonged to him or his. + </p> + <p> + I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when + it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary + shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil + my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have + met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he + might have mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to + sell me for three hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and + our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, I’m <i>so</i> + glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be + transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your + services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail + for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of + knowing that you left me a free woman.” + </p> + <p> + My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried + to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I + hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old + grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and + how often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old + heart would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that + we were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God + had raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the + precious, long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly + used. Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by + careless handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word + is sacred. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a + letter came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease from + troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + </p> + <p> + Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an + obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of + such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of + his friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid him low, + they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to + the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not + require man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they called a + colored man a <i>citizen</i>! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + </p> + <p> + Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I + and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of + slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and though that, + according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast + improvement in <i>my</i> condition. The dream of my life is not yet + realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own. I still long + for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children’s + sake far more than for my own. But God so orders circumstances as to keep + me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her + side. It is a privilege to serve her who pities my oppressed people, and + who has bestowed the inestimable boon of freedom on me and my children. + </p> + <p> + It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I + passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the + retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy + recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, + fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class="chapter"></div><h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of + Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by + friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the + preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her + hospitable roof. + </p> +<div class='right smallcaps'>L.M.C.</div> +<p class="preserve"> + “The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister’s life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, “You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read.” Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been <i>bought</i> was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: ‘I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me <i>that</i> freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant.’ +</p> +<p class="preserve"> + “Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. +</p> +<div class="right smallcaps">Amy Post.</div> +<p class="preserve"> + “Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859.” +</p> +<p> + The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable + colored citizen of Boston. + </p> + <div class='right smallcaps'>L.M.C.</div> + +<div class="preserve"> + “This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years’ concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. +</div> +<div class="right smallcaps">George W. Lowther.”</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11030 ***</div> + </body> +</html> + + diff --git a/old/11030-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/11030-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b8cb1b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11030-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11030 2004-02-11.txt b/old/old/11030 2004-02-11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a590e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11030 2004-02-11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7874 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl +by Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl + Written by Herself + +Author: Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +Release Date: February 11, 2004 [EBook #11030] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +[Transcriber's note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.] + + +Incidents + +in the + +Life of a Slave Girl. + + + +Written by Herself. + +Linda Brent + + +"Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual +bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of _degradation_ +involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease their +efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown." + +A Woman Of North Carolina. + + +"Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! +Give ear unto my speech." + +Isaiah xxxii. 9. + + +Edited By L. Maria Child. + +Boston: Published For The Author. + +1861. + + + +Preface By The Author + +Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my +adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. +I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, my +descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of +places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on +my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to +pursue this course. + +I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my +readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was +born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven +years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to work +diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This has +not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities to +improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregular +intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties. + +When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a +sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an +undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I +still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what +might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in +order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been +more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I +care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire to +arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of two +millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I +suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that of +abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery really +is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul is +that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfect +effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + +--_Linda Brent_ + + + +Introduction By The Editor + + +The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and +her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last +seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a +distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be +highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further +credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be +disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are more +romantic than fiction. + +At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have +made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement. +I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of her +very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and the +language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I had +no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her own +story. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for good +reasons I suppress them. + +It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be +able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first +place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, +with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate +friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in +favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent +intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her +welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + +I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these +pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and +much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, and +others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been kept +veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous +features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with +the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who +are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to +them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women +at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence on +the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hope +that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before God +that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shall +ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and +cruelty. + +--_L. Maria Child_ + + + +Contents + + +Childhood + +The New Master And Mistress + +The Slaves' New Year's Day + +The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man + +The Trials Of Girlhood + +The Jealous Mistress + +The Lover + +What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North + +Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders + +A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life + +The New Tie To Life + +Fear Of Insurrection + +The Church And Slavery + +Another Link To Life + +Continued Persecutions + +Scenes At The Plantation + +The Flight + +Months Of Peril + +The Children Sold + +New Perils + +The Loophole Of Retreat + +Christmas Festivities + +Still In Prison + +The Candidate For Congress + +Competition In Cunning + +Important Era In My Brother's Life + +New Destination For The Children + +Aunt Nancy + +Preparations For Escape + +Northward Bound + +Incidents In Philadelphia + +The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter + +A Home Found + +The Old Enemy Again + +Prejudice Against Color + +The Hairbreadth Escape + +A Visit To England + +Renewed Invitations To Go South + +The Confession + +The Fugitive Slave Law + +Free At Last + +Appendix + +Selected Bibliography + + + + +Incidents + +in the + +Life of A Slave Girl, + +Seven Years Concealed. + + + * * * * * + + + +I. Childhood + + +I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood +had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent +and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were +to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On +condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supporting +himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs. +His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he several +times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. In +complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were +termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though we +were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a +piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to be +demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was two +years younger than myself--a bright, affectionate child. I had also a great +treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in many +respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at his +death, left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St. +Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War; +and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold to +different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to tell me; +but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little girl when she +was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I have often heard +her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as she grew older she +evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master and +mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to take care of +such a valuable piece of property. She became an indispensable personage in +the household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to +seamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers +became so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous of +obtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked +permission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the +household work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she +would clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, +after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight +bakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved +profitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a fund +to purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was divided +among his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continued +to keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but her +children were divided among her master's children. As she had five, +Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each heir might have an +equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little difference in our +ages that he seemed more like my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, +handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmother +had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven +hundred and twenty dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow +to my grandmother, but she was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with +renewed energy, trusting in time to be able to purchase some of her +children. She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her mistress one day +begged as a loan, promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that +no promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according +to Southern laws, a slave, _being_ property, can _hold_ no property. When +my grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely +to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + +To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother +Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and preserves, +she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were indebted to +her for many more important services. + +Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. When +I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I +learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother's mistress +was the daughter of my grandmother's mistress. She was the foster sister of +my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother's breast. In fact, my +mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the mistress +might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; and, when +they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter +foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her children +should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she kept her +word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely +in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my +young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of me and +my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with her mistress; +and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposed +on me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do her +bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would permit. +I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart as free +from care as that of any free-born white child. When she thought I was +tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gather +berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were happy days--too happy +to last. The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came that +blight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel. + +When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As +I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayed +in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been almost like +a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and they buried her +in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears fell upon her +grave. + +I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to +begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they +would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind +as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her children +should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, and recalled +her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having some hopes +that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it would be so. +They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother's love and +faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful +slave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block. + +After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we +learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister's daughter, a child of +five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the +precepts of God's Word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." +"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." +But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her +neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great +wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy days +I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of +injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for +this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her +memory. + +She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed +among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother's children, and had +shared the same milk that nourished her mother's children. Notwithstanding +my grandmother's long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her +children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no +more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the +horses they tend. + + + +II. The New Master And Mistress. + + +Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my +mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not +without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my +unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the same +family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of transacting +business as a skillful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a freeman than +is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and being brought up +under such influences, he daily detested the name of master and mistress. +One day, when his father and his mistress both happened to call him at the +same time, he hesitated between the two; being perplexed to know which had +the strongest claim upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to his +mistress. When my father reproved him for it, he said, "You both called me, +and I didn't know which I ought to go to first." + +"You are _my_ child," replied our father, "and when I call you, you should +come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water." + +Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a master. +Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found an echo in +the credulous hearts of youth. + +When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and +cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I moaned +and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + +I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was +buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her only +child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I still had +something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, "Come with me, +Linda;" and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. She led +me apart from the people, and then said, "My child, your father is dead." +Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not even heard +that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart rebelled +against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and friend. +The good grandmother tried to comfort me. "Who knows the ways of God?" said +she. "Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to come." +Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a mother to +her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; and +strengthened by her love, I returned to my master's. I thought I should be +allowed to go to my father's house the next morning; but I was ordered to +go for flowers, that my mistress's house might be decorated for an evening +party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, +while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared +my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, they +thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they +were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach; +presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + +The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my +dear mother. There were those who knew my father's worth, and respected his +memory. + +My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little +slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about the +joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried to +comfort him, by saying, "Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come by +and by." + +"You don't know any thing about it, Linda," he replied. "We shall have to +stay here all our days; we shall never be free." + +I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we +might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could earn +money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to say than +to do; moreover, he did not intend to _buy_ his freedom. We held daily +controversies upon this subject. + +Little attention was paid to the slaves' meals in Dr. Flint's house. If +they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave +myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my +grandmother's house, where there was always something to spare for me. I +was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my +grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something +for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to _her_ for all my comforts, +spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor that supplied my scanty wardrobe. +I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress given me every +winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges of slavery. + +While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard earnings, +the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never repaid. When +her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed executor. When +grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate was insolvent, +and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, prohibit him from +retaining the silver candelabra, which had been purchased with that money. +I presume they will be handed down in the family, from generation to +generation. + +My grandmother's mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she +should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. +But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servant +that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold. + +On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, +proclaiming that there would be a "public sale of negroes, horses, &c." Dr. +Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her +feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose +of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she +understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very +spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress +intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. +She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and preserves; +consequently, "Aunt Marthy," as she was called, was generally known, and +every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good character. Her +long and faithful service in the family was also well known, and the +intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day of sale came, she +took her place among the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon +the auction-block. Many voices called out, "Shame! Shame! Who is going to +sell _you_, aunt Marthy? Don't stand there! That is no place for _you_." +Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At +last, a feeble voice said, "Fifty dollars." It came from a maiden lady, +seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother's deceased mistress. She +had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she knew how +faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had been +defrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The auctioneer +waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no one bid above +her. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill of sale was made +out, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence was that, when she +had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She gave the old servant +her freedom. + +At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had +passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had +defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One of +my mother's sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. She +was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both housekeeper and +waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the beginning and end of +every thing. + +Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She +had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were +so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, +till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of +the church; but partaking of the Lord's supper did not seem to put her in a +Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on that +particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait till +it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had been used +for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children from eking +out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. +The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them. +Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a day. I +can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from her flour +barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, and exactly +what size they ought to be. + +Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table without +fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his liking, +he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat every +mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not have +objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram it +down her throat till she choked. + +They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered +to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was +held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a few +minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been well +cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent for +the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman's stomach +was stronger than the dog's; but her sufferings afterwards proved that he +was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her master and +mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing baby, for a +whole day and night. + +When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves was +brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he arrived, +and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied up to the +joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that situation he +was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never forget +that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows fall; +in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his "O, pray +don't, massa," rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many +conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master +accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with his +wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being the +father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very fair. + +I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet with +blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and +continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint +handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value +into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of +sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader's hands, +she said. "You _promised_ to treat me well." To which he replied, "You have +let your tongue run too far; damn you!" She had forgotten that it was a +crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + +From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once +saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. +In her agony she cried out, "O Lord, come and take me!" Her mistress stood +by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. "You suffer, do you?" she +exclaimed. "I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too." + +The girl's mother said, "The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor +child will soon be in heaven, too." + +"Heaven!" retorted the mistress. "There is no such place for the like of +her and her bastard." + +The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, +feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, "Don't grieve so, +mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me." + +Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt +unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still on +her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had but +the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked God +for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + + + +III. The Slaves' New Year's Day. + + +Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty +slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + +Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the +slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until +the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters +give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until +Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they +are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may think +proper. Then comes New Year's eve; and they gather together their little +alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait anxiously +for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are thronged with +men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear their doom +pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, or cruel +master, within forty miles of him. + +It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves well; +for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, "Please, massa, hire me this +year. I will work _very_ hard, massa." + +If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or locked +up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away during +the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it justifiable to +violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! The whip is used +till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs are put in +chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + +If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, +without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. After +those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + +O, you happy free women, contrast _your_ New Year's day with that of the +poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of the day +is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are showered +upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at this +season, and lips that have been silent echo back, "I wish you a happy New +Year." Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy lips for +a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can take them +from you. + +But to the slave mother New Year's day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. +She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be torn +from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they might +die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded by the +system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a mother's +instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother's agonies. + +On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the +auction-block. She knew that _some_ of them would be taken from her; but +they took _all_. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and their mother +was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her children were all +far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he intended to take them; +this he refused to do. How _could_ he, when he knew he would sell them, one +by one, wherever he could command the highest price? I met that mother in +the street, and her wild, haggard face lives to-day in my mind. She wrung +her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, "Gone! All gone! Why _don't_ God kill +me?" I had no words wherewith to comfort her. Instances of this kind are of +daily, yea, of hourly occurrence. + +Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid +of _old_ slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I knew an +old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She had +become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved to +Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who would +give twenty dollars for her. + + + +IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + + +Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint's family, and those years +had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they +had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + +My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan +grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now mistress +of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. She would +have been happy could her children have shared them with her. There +remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most +earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that +He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed +hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + +It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her +children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We +reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated +as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet +balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always met +us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She spoke +so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. There +was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things for the +town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + +But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our +hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully +made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother +William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master +that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He +came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. It +was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing here +and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose +restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom +to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that +scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad +I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and +swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + +When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in +_every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and should +surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + +So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither +saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded +close beside me. "Linda," said he, "what makes you look so sad? I love you. +O, Linda, isn't this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and unhappy. I +wish I had died when poor father did." + +I told him that every body was _not_ cross, or unhappy; that those who had +pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love them, +were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or mother, +could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would bring us +contentment. + +"Yes," he said, "I try to be good; but what's the use? They are all the +time troubling me." Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon's difficulty +with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas +had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas +said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; +but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting +the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in that +likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the skirmish +none the worse for a few scratches. + +He continued to discourse, on his young master's _meanness_; how he whipped +the _little_ boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle ensued between +him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he always took to his +legs. William had other charges to make against him. One was his rubbing up +pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for quarters of a dollar on +an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was often sent to buy fruit, and +he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to do under such circumstances. I +told him it was certainly wrong to deceive the old man, and that it was his +duty to tell him of the impositions practised by his young master. I +assured him the old man would not be slow to comprehend the whole, and +there the matter would end. William thought it might with the old man, but +not with _him_. He said he did not mind the smart of the whip, but he did +not like the _idea_ of being whipped. + +While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the +beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that +urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother's God-given +nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, +seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, +of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God's +most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + +If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in Benjamin's +heart, and in another's, whom I loved with all the ardor of a girl's first +love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render me miserable. +He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the petty, tyrannical +ways that human ingenuity could devise. + +I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. +My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. I +needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still continued +to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint's room, their creaking grated +harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what I had +about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new shoes. +"Take them off," said she; "and if you put them on again, I'll throw them +into the fire." + +I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, +on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night +I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me +sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + +I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress +would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated "the little imp," as +she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such +extravagant imaginings. + +Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, +"She don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, and I have no right +to sell her." Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, and I +could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned my +affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and his +wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant +doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her +mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must +be the latter. I said to myself, "Surely, little children are true." + +One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. My +mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I was +perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, that +she believed I was telling a lie. + +I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny +paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing +thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. "Well, brother," said I, +"what is the matter this time?" + +"O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!" said he. + +My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. "Don't be frightened, +Linda," said William; "I will tell you all about it." + +It appeared that Benjamin's master had sent for him, and he did not +immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began +to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master +was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground +his master--one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the +result. + +That night I stole to my grandmother's house; and Benjamin also stole +thither from his master's. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two +with an old friend living in the country. + +"I have come," said Benjamin, "to tell you good by. I am going away." + +I inquired where. + +"To the north," he replied. + +I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his firm, +set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my words. He +said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more galling. He +had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly whipped for +the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he must encounter +among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought back; and that +was terrible to think of. + +He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not +preferable to our treatment in slavery. "Linda," he continued, "we are dogs +here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that's mean. No, I will not stay. Let +them bring me back. We don't die but once." + +He was right; but it was hard to give him up. "Go," said I, "and break your +mother's heart." + +I repented of my words ere they were out. + +"Linda," said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, "how +_could_ you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, too, +cousin Fanny." + +Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + +Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so +many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + +It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he +was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The +captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who +was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His +embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the +advertisement met the captain's eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its +description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. +The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that port +Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He escaped +from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to his master. + +When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, +great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, "God's will +be done." Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from her +boy. Yes, news _was_ heard. The master was rejoicing over a letter, +announcing the capture of his human chattel. + +That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led +through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet full +of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his mother's +house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her distress would +take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and she went; but +she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her child had said. + +We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, +and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my +grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not +a sound broke the stillness. "Benjamin, Benjamin!" whispered my +grandmother. No answer. "Benjamin!" she again faltered. There was a jingle +of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through the +bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin's cold hands in ours. +We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin's lips were unsealed; for +his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory bring back that +sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her pardon for the +suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she could +not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured, he +broke away, and was about casting himself into the river, when thoughts of +_her_ came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did not also think of +God. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the moonlight. He answered, +"No, I did not think of him. When a man is hunted like a wild beast he +forgets there is a God, a heaven. He forgets every thing in his struggle to +get beyond the reach of the bloodhounds." + +"Don't talk so, Benjamin," said she. "Put your trust in God. Be humble, my +child, and your master will forgive you." + +"Forgive me for _what_, mother? For not letting him treat me like a dog? +No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for nothing +all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I will +stay till I die, or till he sells me." + +The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he +next spoke, his voice was calmer. "Don't fret about me, mother. I ain't +worth it," said he. "I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every +thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I +could." + +She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when +sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned +to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do +likewise. + +We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + +Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to +intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin +should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in +jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. +However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, +and we were allowed to visit him. + +As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible a +warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + +Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a +purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum +was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He +was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered +with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered with +vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of them. +He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that they +should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was +covered with vermin. + +This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our +visits. + +My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old ones +were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still begged +him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion nor +argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, "I am waiting +his time." + +Those chains were mournful to hear. + +Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that +loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave trader had +bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years +of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred +dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement +had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had +heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable for +a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a girl. We +thanked God that he was not. + +Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened +the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, +and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly +pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you +would exclaim, _Slavery is damnable_! Benjamin, her youngest, her pet, was +forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview with the +trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be purchased. She +was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to sell him till he +was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell him till he +reached New Orleans. + +With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of +love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still be +separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she labored. +The trader's price would treble that he gave; but she was not discouraged. + +She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New +Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly +favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he +thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the trader +an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and had +invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for freedom. +So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was riding over +the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + +For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion +that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed +out to the letter, and the _thing_ rendered back to slavery. The brightest +skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was taken +sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength was +slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to retard +his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? He +resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he +thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a +voice called out, "Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing _here_!" + +His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not +stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his old +master's next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; but +it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly number +of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose ticking +is rarely heard in the slaveholder's breast. + +"Ben, you are sick," said he. "Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave +you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. You +had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing for all +me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, for there +are several gentlemen here from our town." He described the nearest and +safest route to New York, and added, "I shall be glad to tell your mother I +have seen you. Good by, Ben." + +Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town he +hated contained such a gem--a gem worthy of a purer setting. + +This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. +On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the +service he had rendered him. + +Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had +gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my +grandmother's only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business +for his mistress. Through God's providence, the brothers met. You may be +sure it was a happy meeting. "O Phil," exclaimed Benjamin, "I am here at +last." Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free +land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. +He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the +old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but +something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. He +had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven for +self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not desire +a continuation of the same in another world. "If I die now," he exclaimed, +"thank God, I shall die a freeman!" + +He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with him, +till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it would +kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged her +house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be bought? + +"No, never!" he replied. "Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out +of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I +would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay +all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know she +will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good +mother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, and I +have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what'll become of her? Phil, +you don't know what a life they lead her. She has told me something about +it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in jail, he +asked her if she didn't want _him_ to ask my master to forgive me, and take +me home again. She told him, No; that I didn't want to go back. He got mad, +and said we were all alike. I never despised my own master half as much as +I do that man. There is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but for +all that I would not be his slave." + +While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay +necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in his +bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I thought +none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + +His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + +They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, +"Phil, I part with all my kindred." And so it proved. We never heard from +him again. + +Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered the +house were, "Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York." She stood +looking at him with a bewildered air. "Mother, don't you believe it?" he +said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her hands, and +exclaimed, "God be praised! Let us thank him." She dropped on her knees, +and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit down and repeat +to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only he forbore to +mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he distress her +when she could do him no good? + +The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other +children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight +hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his +freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that +night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove +to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long +taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, "He that is _willing_ to +be a slave, let him be a slave." + + + +V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + + +During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's family, I was +accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. +Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and +tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I +now entered on my fifteenth year--a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. +My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I could +not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with +indifference or contempt. The master's age, my extreme youth, and the fear +that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this +treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means +to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that +made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he thought +must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they +left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my +grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, +such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust +and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same +roof with him--where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the +most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I +must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the +mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether the +slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, +there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or +even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of +men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other +feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, the +wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe. +They are greater than you would willingly believe. Surely, if you credited +one half the truths that are told you concerning the helpless millions +suffering in this cruel bondage, you at the north would not help to tighten +the yoke. You surely would refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, +the mean and cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of +whites do for him at the south. + +Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in slavery +the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the little child, +who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, will learn, +before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress hates such and +such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child's own mother is among those +hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot +help understanding what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowing +in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master's +footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. +If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. That +which commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradation +of the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery to +feel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it most +acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much I +suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained by the +retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged to +him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel me to submit to +him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after a day of unwearied +toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my mother's grave, his dark +shadow fell on me even there. The light heart which nature had given me +became heavy with sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master's house +noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; but none dared to ask the +cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practices +under that roof; and they were aware that to speak of them was an offence +that never went unpunished. + +I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have +laid my head on my grandmother's faithful bosom, and told her all my +troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as +the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared her +as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a +respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about +telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict +on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was +usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once +roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once +chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one +of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; +and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide +in my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, +her presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she +had been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching +rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he +did not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me that +I did not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that +the inhabitants were ignorant of each other's affairs. Bad as are the +laws and customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a +professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of +decency. + +O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it +is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what +I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your +hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once +suffered. + +I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white +child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them +embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away +from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on +the little slave's heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to +sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood to +womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a sunny +sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose on her +happy bridal morning. + +How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of her +childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine of +love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, +whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + +In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the +north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that I +had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There are +noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who cannot +help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage to go +on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the cause of +humanity! + + + +VI. The Jealous Mistress. + + +I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the +half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the +slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton +plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an +unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon's home in a +penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his +ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is not +allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to wish +to be virtuous. + +Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband's character before I was born. +She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and +the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were +the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her +husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to +evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested +in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb +asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and many +were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day he +caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well +pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an +accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, +notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, "I +can't read them, sir." "Can't you?" he replied; "then I must read them to +you." He always finished the reading by asking, "Do you understand?" +Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his +supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself +there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away +the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These +intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly +throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited +my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had +exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his +patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me +at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When +there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to +address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he +would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. +Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be +forebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In +desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for +protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made +any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally of +a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out of +his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that some +threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + +I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent that +my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently passed +between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and he would +not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was never +satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her to +bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity for +her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never wronged +her, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her would have +brought me to her feet. + +After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his +intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in +his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same +room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, +and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing +to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, I +had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often held +to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I slept by +the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent to come +into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family many years. +Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessary +to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstacle +in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that he +should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge by +the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. The +first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next +morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A +kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of +this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. + +After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first +question was, "Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor's room?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Who told you?" + +"My master." + +"Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I have +accused you?" + +"I am." + +She handed me a Bible, and said, "Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this +holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth." + +I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + +"You have taken God's holy word to testify your innocence," said she. "If +you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me +directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master +and you." + +I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed +frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, +that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon +convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt +that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had +no compassion for the poor victim of her husband's perfidy. She pitied +herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of +shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yet +perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was +ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been +much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but +my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very +refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object +of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not +expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I +was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders' wives feel as other women +would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from +small-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was +obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + +I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it afterwards; +but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she rendered me +to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room adjoining her +own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not to her especial +comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch over me. Sometimes I +woke up, and found her bending over me. At other times she whispered in my +ear, as though it was her husband who was speaking to me, and listened to +hear what I would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she would +glide stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had been +talking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began to be +fearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can imagine, +better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it must produce to +wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman bending over you. +Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it would give place to +one more terrible. + +My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She +changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of +crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. To +my utter astonishment, he replied, "I don't believe it; but if she did +acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me." Tortured into exposing +him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his +soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was +to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; +that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was +a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headed +miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. She +was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly have +had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated, +the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic. +The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have +exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often did I +rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew each other! +If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the multitude of a +crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + +The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My +master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the +mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other +slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, +indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + +My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. +She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the +never-changing answer was always repeated: "Linda does not belong to _me_. +She is my daughter's property, and I have no legal right to sell her." The +conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to _sell_ me; but he had no +scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the +helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter's +property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be +sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a +life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured +individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. "Did I not take you into +the house, and make you the companion of my own children?" he would say. +"Have _I_ ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to be +punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense I +get, you ungrateful girl!" I answered that he had reasons of his own for +screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my +mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, "Poor child! +Don't cry! don't cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only +let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don't know +what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you. +Now go, and think of all I have promised you." + +I did think of it. + +Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you +the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast of +Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the +poor fugitive back into his den, "full of dead men's bones, and all +uncleanness." Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give +their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic +notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year +round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The +young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her +happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of +complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they +are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the +flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + +Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many +little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such +children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it +is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into the +slave-trader's hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of +their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + +I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free +those slaves towards whom they stood in a "parental relation;" and their +request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness +of their wives' natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that +which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered +their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence +took the place of distrust. + +Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, +to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern +ladies say of Mr. Such a one, "He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the +father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself their +master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any decent +society!" + + + +VII. The Lover. + + +Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine +around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of +violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can +bow in resignation, and say, "Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!" But +when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery he +causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a +young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that the +dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the +land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + + Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; + Nor words a language; nor e'en men mankind. + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, + And each is tortured in his separate hell. + +There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free born man. +We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together +afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I +loved him with all the ardor of a young girl's first love. But when I +reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the +marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but I +knew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to that +arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of opposition, +and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have been delighted +to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have relieved her mind +of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some distant state, but if I +was married near home I should be just as much in her husband's power as I +had previously been,--for the husband of a slave has no power to protect +her. Moreover, my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaves +had no right to any family ties of their own; that they were created merely +to wait upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a young +slave girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. "I +will have you peeled and pickled, my lady," said she, "if I ever hear you +mention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending +_my_ children with the children of that nigger?" The girl to whom she said +this had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The +poor black man who loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his +helpless offspring. + +Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss +what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults +that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother about +it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the worst. She +had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her suspicions I +knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all my hopes. + +This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not +bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in +the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint's, who often visited the +house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a +friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great influence +with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I told her I +was aware that my lover's being a free-born man would prove a great +objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent to that +arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable price. +She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest that +perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that would rid her +of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do her +utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and I +believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose. + +How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his +presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next +morning, a message was brought to me: "Master wants you in his study." I +found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who +claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear +calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked +fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, "I have half a mind +to kill you on the spot." At last he broke the silence, and that was a +relief to both of us. + +"So you want to be married, do you?" said he, "and to a free nigger." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, I'll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger +fellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take up +with one of my slaves." + +What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, even +if my heart had been interested! + +I replied, "Don't you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference +about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?" + +"Do you love this nigger?" said he, abruptly. + +"Yes, sir." + +"How dare you tell me so!" he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight +pause, he added, "I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt +above the insults of such puppies." + +I replied, "If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro +race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you call +a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did not +believe me to be a virtuous woman." + +He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the +first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my +anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, "You +have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!" + +There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be +my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I +had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, "Do you know what +you have said?" + +"Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it." + +"Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,--that I can kill +you, if I please?" + +"You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to do +as you like with me." + +"Silence!" he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. "By heavens, girl, you +forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to +your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne +from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How +would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?" + +"I know I have been disrespectful, sir," I replied; "but you drove me to +it; I couldn't help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me +there than there is here." + +"You deserve to go there," said he, "and to be under such treatment, that +you would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do you good. It +would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not ready to send +you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my kindness and +forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have wanted to make you +happy, and I have been repaid with the basest ingratitude; but though you +have proved yourself incapable of appreciating my kindness, I will be +lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one more chance to redeem your +character. If you behave yourself and do as I require, I will forgive you +and treat you as I always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punish +you as I would the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear that +fellow's name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, I +will cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I will +shoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I'll teach you +a lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be the last +time I have occasion to speak to you on this subject." + +Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I +never shall again. Somebody has called it "the atmosphere of hell;" and I +believe it is so. + +For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; +to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable +addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base proposals +of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his eyes were +very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly than he +watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to make me +read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange letters +with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I was sorry +for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the house, he +contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better read it, +and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It expressed +regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I myself was +wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I was +doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up his +mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, and +intended I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where she +was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If I +merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishly +bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer the following +day. + +The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I +laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my +answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young +mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to +stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his letter, +and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, "I am your daughter's +property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, wherever you +please." He said he was very glad to find me so willing to go, and that we +should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice in the town, and +I rather thought he had made up the story merely to frighten me. However +that might be, I was determined that I would never go to Louisiana with +him. + +Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint's eldest son was sent +to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That news +did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with _him_. +That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, was owing to +the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; and jealousy of +the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me into the fields +to work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these protectors? As for +the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect than I had for a +bloodhound. + +Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I +heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the +corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my +master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I +was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. "When +is mistress to be married?" said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths +and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free man! +that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the street! + +Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no +hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron +will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an +intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission to +marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to +protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the +insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I +knew they must "follow the condition of the mother." What a terrible blight +that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For _his_ sake, I +felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy destiny. He was +going to Savannah to see about a little property left him by an uncle; and +hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not to +come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, where his tongue would +not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. He +left me, still hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With me +the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I felt +lonely and desolate. + +Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my +affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into +my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I +still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by +the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden +freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he +would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we could +get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier said +than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no means of +getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she was +strongly opposed to her children's undertaking any such project. She had +not forgotten poor Benjamin's sufferings, and she was afraid that if +another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To +me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, +"William _must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him." +Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + + + +VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + + +Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to +hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small respect +for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I cannot use a +milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they tell their +slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be in the most +deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had seen a runaway +friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to take her back to +her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; that many days she +had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times could get nothing at +all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew her master would not +thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended by +saying to me, "This is the punishment she brought on herself for running +away from a kind master." + +This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New +York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of +such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe +such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such +a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom could +make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and children. +If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as some +Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is more +valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own capabilities, +and exert themselves to become men and women. + +But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into +slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who +strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; +but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general +mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by +favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to _utter_ such sentiments to +their masters. O, that there were more of them! + +Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will +sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and +daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior +order of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born and brought up a +slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that the black man +_is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is the ignorance in +which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing whip that lashes +manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the South, and the +scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who enforce the +Fugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work. + +Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the +Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for them, +such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are +employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud to +do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and +Dixon's line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance +with their "peculiar institution." Nor is it enough to be silent. The +masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of +subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they +respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise "a +northern man with southern principles;" and that is the class they +generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very +apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their +neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are +proverbially the hardest masters. + +They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created +the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who "made +of one blood all nations of men!" And then who _are_ Africans? Who can +measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of American +slaves? + +I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad +opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are +aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most +ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; +and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about white +folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom for them. +Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, and that +it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law from going +into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it over. She +said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to the queen +of 'Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn't believe it, and went +to Washington city to see the president about it. They quarrelled; she drew +her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her to make them all +free. + +That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to +whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate to +Queen Justice. + + + +IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + + +There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. +Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six +hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive +plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a +whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated +there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his +great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for +murder. + +Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope +round a man's body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled +over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, the +scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own +plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. +But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit +managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of +theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who +assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no +inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned, than the +accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave +stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection +followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form +was attentuated by hunger and suffering. + +A freshnet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the +plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of +wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. +They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled +them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was a +dog's burial. Nothing was said. + +Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after +nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + +His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His +bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the +slaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, they +literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his +shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. +His last words were, "I am going to hell; bury my money with me." + +After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars +were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a +rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his +grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was +found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was +again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were +never discovered. + +Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor of +Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of +intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of +his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front +of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly cold, +and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A member of +the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he might be taken +down; but the master would not relent. He remained there three hours; and, +when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole +a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In +desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so +faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he +longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long +distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his master's, it was +night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried +to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last his cry +reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the gate. She ran +back to the house for assistance, and two men returned with her. They +carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was one +clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened it from the raw flesh. +She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left him to rest. The master +said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When his own labor was stolen from +him, he had stolen food to appease his hunger. This was his crime. + +Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there cessation +of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and did not +cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place of +torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old slave +of hers once said to me, "It is hell in missis's house. 'Pears I can never +get out. Day and night I prays to die." + +The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her +husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A +slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, +watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay her +dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and dealt two +blows on her face, saying, as she did so, "The devil is got you _now_!" She +forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun to talk; and she +said to her father, "I did see ma, and mammy did strike ma, so," striking +her own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could not +imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the room where the corpse lay; +for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She confessed that what the +child had said was true, and told how she had procured the key. She was +sold to Georgia. + +In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as +all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. +Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became +involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted +for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the +treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further +infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the woods. +He was in a most miserable condition--cut by the cowskin, half naked, half +starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + +Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to his +master's plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on bread +and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor +slave's offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have +whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of +the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched +creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with +strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal sooner +than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which was +screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could not +lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread and +bowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The slave +was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to him. + +Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On +the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When +he had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed his +master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that +horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine +into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly eaten +by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had gnawed him +before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each +other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she should ever +hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and knew that +James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities +that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a +rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested +for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the +feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his own +property. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had hundreds +of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must hurry to eat +their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their pine knots before +nine o'clock, when the overseer went his patrol rounds. He entered every +cabin, to see that men and their wives had gone to bed together, lest the +men, from over-fatigue, should fall asleep in the chimney corner, and +remain there till the morning horn called them to their daily task. Women +are considered of no value, unless they continually increase their owner's +stock. They are put on a par with animals. This same master shot a woman +through the head, who had run away and been brought back to him. No one +called him to account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the +bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his +bones. The master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a +perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, +though Satan never had a truer follower. + +I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They +are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane +slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening +influences around them. But they are "like angels' visits--few and far +between." + +I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an orphan, +and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father was a +free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and children +living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistress +during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which was on the +premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some reality in her +religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and wished them to +enjoy the fruit of their own industry. _Her_ religion was not a garb put on +for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter +of the slave mother was promised in marriage to a free man; and the day +before the wedding this good mistress emancipated her, in order that her +marriage might have the sanction of _law_. + +Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a +man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich +uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a +colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The +metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became his. +She offered to manumit her slaves--telling them that her marriage might +make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to insure their +happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that she had always +been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any where as with +her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home, +and thought that the whole town did not contain a happier family. They had +never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, they were convinced of its +reality. + +When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became +furious, and went to his mistress for protection. "I can do nothing for you +now, Harry," said she. "I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I have +succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain it for +your children." The unhappy father swore that nobody should take his +children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but they +were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two oldest +boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service to her +master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were carried to +their master's plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and when the +slaveholder's wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her +own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She +had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to +his brother. She bore two children to the brother and was sold again. The +next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. +The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the +fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to +the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed away +peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made so +wretched by the man she loved. + +This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve his +affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of drunken +debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master; for +he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and the lash was +not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. Had it not +been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happier +woman. + +No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption +produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of +licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his +sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his +sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with +presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or +starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious +principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good +mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are +dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be +exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + + The poor worm + Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day + Shall pass, and she is gone! + +The slaveholder's sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the +unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master's daughters +always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs +he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear +their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is +excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young +slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as +should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the +woman slaves are subject to their father's authority in all things; and in +some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have +myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in +shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected +one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first +grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her +father's more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over +whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her +father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending +black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had +given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + +In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by +any who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, instead +of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the market. If +they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be their +inevitable destiny. + +You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was +twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own +experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well +as to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons +violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives +wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to +describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their degradation. + +Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin +occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton +crops--not of the blight on their children's souls. + +If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a +southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be +no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you +impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + + + +X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life. + + +After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to have +an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the +blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me, +in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I was +constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a home +of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded +fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had high +words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly what she +thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in the +neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs. +Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build a +house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I +was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon +heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I +would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till +dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day, +through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I so +hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made my +life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at last +in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any thing, every thing, +for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? I thought and thought, +till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss. + +And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would +gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. +It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, +and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to +screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not +so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master +had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the +pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my +childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that +they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, +concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with +deliberate calculation. + +But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, who +have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes are +protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely! +If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the man of my +choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I should have +been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate; +but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myself +pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard to preserve +my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of the +demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I was +forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be frustrated; and I +became reckless in my despair. + +I have told you that Dr. Flint's persecutions and his wife's jealousy had +given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced +that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the +circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often +spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked questions +about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great deal of +sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities to see +me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only fifteen years +old. + +So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for +human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, and +encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have such a +friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He was an +educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor slave +girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was tending. I +knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of interest to a +man who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to the +pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her any +pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one's self, than to +submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in having a lover +who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and +attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare +not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried +man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry +in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of +morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible. + +When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage, +other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and calculations +of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude for +kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as to know that I +favored another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even in +that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I was +sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a man of more generosity +and feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easily +obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came so near that I was +desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that should +be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, his +victims were sold far off to get rid of them; especially if they had +children. I had seen several women sold, with babies at the breast. He +never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of himself +and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I could ask to have my +children well supported; and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain +the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all +these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping +the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon +me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be +entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the +condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You never +exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding the power of a +hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps, and +trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feel +it more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will haunt +me to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of my +life, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same +standard as others. + +The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over the +sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me from +harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that it +was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most of +the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of her +love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + +As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the +thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended +arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the cottage +was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enter +it. He said, "I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go, if +you are carried by force; and you shall remain there." + +I replied, "I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother." + +He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a +word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the +truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble +as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how +could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved +that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, "Let the storm +beat! I will brave it till I die." And now, how humiliated I felt! + +I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words +stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and began +to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. The +mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for her +children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily +expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a +sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this +well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. +Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerning +her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened, +believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has it come to this? I had +rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace to +your dead mother." She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring and +her silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, "and never come to my house, +again." Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance +to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only +answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not +speak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they +scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I +longed to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had +ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, I +mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now +close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in my +childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before. + +Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked on +recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I had +gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the +stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me. +How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, and +as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank +on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; but +the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself, +and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been a +friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly +to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I +could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to +her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had +been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend +advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passed +before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt +before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long I +had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in an hour of +extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her I +would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining +her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead mother's sake. And +she did pity me. She did not say, "I forgive you;" but she looked at me +lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my +head, and murmured, "Poor child! Poor child!" + + + +XI. The New Tie To Life. + + +I returned to my good grandmother's house. She had an interview with Mr. +Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe +lamb,--whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about +character,--he made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He +promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they +might. + +I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made +the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how I +had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He +intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could +have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he have +offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the cause of +my sin! + +"Linda," said he, "though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for +you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellow +you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, you +shall feel the fires of hell." + +I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was +gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his +abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had +always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I might +have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. "I have +sinned against God and myself," I replied; "but not against you." + +He clinched his teeth, and muttered, "Curse you!" He came towards me, with +ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, "You obstinate girl! I could grind your +bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal. +You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who don't care +a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. You are +blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master was your +best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have punished +you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under the lash. +But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. Others +cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, +forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the +present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow." + +He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. +After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and +who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; that +as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained to +me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. He +ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. "I command you," said he, "to +tell me whether the father of your child is white or black." I hesitated. +"Answer me this instant!" he exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me +like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. "Do you love +him?" said he, in a hissing tone. + +"I am thankful that I do not despise him," I replied. + +He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don't know what +arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he +spoke. "I came here," said he, "to make you a friendly proposition; but +your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good +intentions towards you. I don't know what it is that keeps me from killing +you." Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + +But he resumed. "On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. +You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of +your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from +him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this at +once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act of +mercy I shall show towards you." + +I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man +who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to my +level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last time, +would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + +"Very well," said he; "then take the consequences of your wayward course. +Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. +I will never sell you, that you may depend upon." + +Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had +calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew +the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + +About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The +day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. +My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray +it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My +heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives +that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us +know what a year may bring forth. + +I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, +though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last +consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had +done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! +The words of my grandmother came to my mind,--"Perhaps your mother and +father are taken from the evil days to come." My disappointed heart could +now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives ever +cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of +slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had +experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I +should escape? + +My uncle's stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in +mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was +unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I +would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, +they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered +the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He +had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + +When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four +pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive +till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, +unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leave +my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcely +a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was sickly. His +little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits, +to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child was +an addition to his stock of slaves. + +I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in +silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not +remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the +medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and +of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, +cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my +brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not seen +him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreaded +the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but I was +nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William with a +note. The color mounted to my brother's face when he gave it to me; and he +said, "Don't you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?" I told him +I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master's +will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to +know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a +passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual +themes,--my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The +laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated that +my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would be +addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me; but I +saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. The manifestation of +feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One +morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and that +circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He was +put in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a +request to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called his +insolence. He said he had put him there, to reflect upon his bad conduct, +and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he +harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thing +went wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his old +stand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior. + +As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old, +they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my +existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain. +When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I loved to +watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over my +enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished +that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. The +bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold that +I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but +never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. +Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying +child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I +had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated him +kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he +should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had +bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a +new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the +serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + + + +XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + + +Not far from this time Nat Turner's insurrection broke out; and the news +threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, +when their slaves were so "contented and happy"! But so it was. + +It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion +every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called +country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their places +in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without hats. +This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were told there +was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. Poor creatures! +They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed of the true state +of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I +have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. All could not be relied +on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + +By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles +of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it would +be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing annoyed them +so much as to see colored people living in comfort and respectability; so I +made arrangements for them with especial care. I arranged every thing in my +grandmother's house as neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, +and decorated some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I sat +down at the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on a +motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. +The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. +Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherever +a colored face was to be found. + +It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their +own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief +authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting +that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves in +poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed such +scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on +innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the slightest +ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts +of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchers +scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other parties +to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were plotting +insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped till the +blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes; +others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking paddle, which +blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored people, unless +they happened to be protected by some influential white person, who was +nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else the marauders +thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling wretches went +round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At +night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they +chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women +hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of the +husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public +whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. The +consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest tinge of +color in their faces dared to be seen talking together. + +I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in the +midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive the +soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp of +feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in they +tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing within +their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a thorough +examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver change was +eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one of +the soldiers turned and said angrily, "What d'ye foller us fur? D'ye s'pose +white folks is come to steal?" + +I replied, "You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I +will take it, if you please." + +At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I called +to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till the +search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house brought +in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the outside +of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This officer was +Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the account of +neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He felt above +soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, if a bit of +writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant followers, +who were unable to read. + +My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that was +opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, "Where'd +the damned niggers git all dis sheet an' table clarf?" + +My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector said, +"You may be sure we didn't pilfer 'em from _your_ houses." + +"Look here, mammy," said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, "you seem +to feel mighty gran' 'cause you got all them 'ere fixens. White folks +oughter have 'em all." + +His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, "We's got 'em! +We's got 'em! Dis 'ere yaller gal's got letters!" + +There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, +proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my +things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their +contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. +I told him it was one of my friends. "Can you read them?" he asked. When I +told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. "Bring +me all your letters!" said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had none. +"Don't be afraid," he continued, in an insinuating way. "Bring them all to +me. Nobody shall do you any harm." Seeing I did not move to obey him, his +pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. "Who writes to you? half free +niggers?" inquired he. I replied, "O, no; most of my letters are from white +people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I +destroy without reading." + +An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our +conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet +had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving +fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; +consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained +these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was +helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, "Wal +done! Don't wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when dey +live on 'sarves" [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take the +jar, saying, "You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats." + +"And what _were_ we sent for?" said the captain, bristling up to me. I +evaded the question. + +The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. +They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, +with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a +short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of the +gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the house. +He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its inmates +receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very fortunately; +not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + +Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by +drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually +rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window +curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white +man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not +stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored +minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his wife +had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to shoot +him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized +country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the +administrators of justice! + +The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the +innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by +keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white +citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless rabble +they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, drove +them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + +The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people +that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed +with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw +horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled +by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail +yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with +brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not +fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the +conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even +heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a +story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + +The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was +substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or +free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture of +Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their +masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. +Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the +privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their +burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had +no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour +out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the +church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a +certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, +when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction had +been pronounced, the minister said, "Come down, now, my colored friends." +They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in +commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, "God is your Father, +and all ye are brethren." + + + +XIII. The Church And Slavery. + + +After the alarm caused by Nat Turner's insurrection had subsided, the +slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the +slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their +masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on +Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also very +respectable--a fact which I presume had some weight with him. The +difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The +Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their +carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. +It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free colored +man, who was a member. + +I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, +trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by +daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to encounter +Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his office to +inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. When the +Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The reverend +gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all present, +who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the portions he +wished them to repeat or respond to. + +His text was, "Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters +according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your +heart, as unto Christ." + +Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, +solemn tones, began: "Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my words. +You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner of evil. +'Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will surely +punish you, if you don't forsake your wicked ways. You that live in town +are eyeservants behind your master's back. Instead of serving your masters +faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly Master, you are +idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. God hears you. +Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden away somewhere, +feasting on your master's substance; tossing coffee-grounds with some +wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with another old hag. Your masters +may not find you out, but God sees you, and will punish you. O, the +depravity of your hearts! When your master's work is done, are you quietly +together, thinking of the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No; you +are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of roots to bury under the +doorsteps to poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away to +every grog shop to sell your master's corn, that you may buy rum to drink. +God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, to +pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you out, God sees you; +and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful ways, and be faithful +servants. Obey your old master and your young master--your old mistress and +your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, you offend your +heavenly Master. You must obey God's commandments. When you go from here, +don't stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go directly home, and +let your master and mistress see that you have come." + +The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother +Pike's gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the +next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last +discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found +it very inconvenient to meet at the friend's house, and he should be glad +to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + +I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for the +last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that the +kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since its +present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but pine +knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from his +comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist +shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious +meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than +sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded +Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + +The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not +trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following +verses: + + Old Satan is one busy ole man; + He rolls dem blocks all in my way; + But Jesus is my bosom friend; + He rolls dem blocks away. + + If I had died when I was young, + Den how my stam'ring tongue would have sung; + But I am ole, and now I stand + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land. + +I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I +went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved +mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the +town constable--a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his brethren +and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or out of +jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for fifty +cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and said to +the stricken woman, "Sister, can't you tell us how the Lord deals with your +soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?" + +She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, "My Lord and Master, help +me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and I am +left in darkness and misery." Then, striking her breast, she continued, "I +can't tell you what is in here! They've got all my children. Last week they +took the last one. God only knows where they've sold her. They let me have +her sixteen years, and then--O! O! Pray for her brothers and sisters! I've +got nothing to live for now. God make my time short!" + +She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader +become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his +handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman's calamity +might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the +bereaved mother, "Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his +divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!" + +The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as +the birds that warbled round us,-- + + Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; + He missed my soul, and caught my sins. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + He took my sins upon his back; + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + Ole Satan's church is here below. + Up to God's free church I hope to go. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + +Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at +such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing +and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, +under constant dread of the lash? + +The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had been +a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was large, +that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different clergyman +took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored people, who +said, "God has sent us a good man this time." They loved him, and their +children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the slaveholders +felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. His wife taught +them to read and write, and to be useful to her and themselves. As soon as +he was settled, he turned his attention to the needy slaves around him. He +urged upon his parishioners the duty of having a meeting expressly for them +every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their comprehension. After much +argument and importunity, it was finally agreed that they might occupy the +gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hitherto +unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to hear the gospel preached. +The sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was the +first time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not long +before his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was accused of +preaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. He honestly +confessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons than upon any +others; for the slaves were reared in such ignorance that it was a +difficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. Dissensions arose +in the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them in the evening, and to +the slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of these disputings his wife +died, after a very short illness. Her slaves gathered round her dying bed +in great sorrow. She said, "I have tried to do you good and promote your +happiness; and if I have failed, it has not been for want of interest in +your welfare. Do not weep for me; but prepare for the new duties that lie +before you. I leave you all free. May we meet in a better world." Her +liberated slaves were sent away, with funds to establish them comfortably. +The colored people will long bless the memory of that truly Christian +woman. Soon after her death her husband preached his farewell sermon, and +many tears were shed at his departure. + +Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former +congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. "My +friends," said he, "it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity of +speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do something +for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet accomplished. I +have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live according to the word +of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; but God judges men by +their hearts, not by the color of their skins." This was strange doctrine +from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to slaveholders. They said he +and his wife had made fools of their slaves, and that he preached like a +fool to the negroes. + +I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were +beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist +church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he should +know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He came to +me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for he had no +money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it came. I +asked him if he didn't know it was contrary to law; and that slaves were +whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This brought the +tears into his eyes. "Don't be troubled, uncle Fred," said I. "I have no +thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, that you +might know the danger, and be on your guard." He thought he could plan to +come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a quiet +nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught him his +A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as he +could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. The +happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spelling +out a few words, he paused, and said, "Honey, it 'pears when I can read dis +good book I shall be nearer to God. White man is got all de sense. He can +larn easy. It ain't easy for ole black man like me. I only wants to read +dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I hab no fear 'bout dying." + +I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. +"Hab patience, child," he replied. "I larns slow." + +I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness imparted, were +more than a recompense for all my trouble. + +At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could +find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, +"Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?" + +"Lord bress you, chile," he replied. "You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I +don't pray to God to help me to understan' what I spells and what I reads. +And he _does_ help me, chile. Bress his holy name!" + +There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the water +of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They send +the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am glad +that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask them +not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American slaveholders as +you talk to savages in Africa. Tell _them_ it was wrong to traffic in men. +Tell them it is sinful to sell their own children, and atrocious to violate +their own daughters. Tell them that all men are brethren, and that man has +no right to shut out the light of knowledge from his brother. Tell them +they are answerable to God for sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls +that are thirsting for it. + +There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; but, +alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would be +driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been +before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. +Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to +them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the +prison and the scourge. + +Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are +the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the +poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so _easily_ +blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has usually +some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The slaveholder +suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes himself as +agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred topics. The +reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table loaded with +luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees the beautiful +groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of favored household +slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with those slaves. He asks them +if they want to be free, and they say, "O, no, massa." This is sufficient +to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a "South Side View of Slavery," +and to complain of the exaggerations of abolitionists. He assures people +that he has been to the south, and seen slavery for himself; that it is a +beautiful "patriarchal institution;" that the slaves don't want their +freedom; that they have hallelujah meetings and other religious privileges. + +What does _he_ know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till +dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn from +their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into moral filth? +of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained to tear human +flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The slaveholder showed him +none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell of them if he had asked +them. + +There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the south. +If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the treasury of +the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious. +If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the church dismiss him, +if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it does not hinder his +continuing to be their good shepherd. + +When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much +surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the character +of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after he was a +communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had been +confirmed, certainly gave _me_ no indication that he had "renounced the +devil and all his works." In answer to some of his usual talk, I reminded +him that he had just joined the church. "Yes, Linda," said he. "It was +proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my position in society +requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned slang. You would do well +to join the church, too, Linda." + +"There are sinners enough in it already," rejoined I. "If I could be +allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad." + +"You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as +virtuous as my wife," he replied. + +I answered that the Bible didn't say so. + +His voice became hoarse with rage. "How dare you preach to me about your +infernal Bible!" he exclaimed. "What right have you, who are my negro, to +talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn't like? I am your +master, and you shall obey me." + +No wonder the slaves sing,-- + + Ole Satan's church is here below; + Up to God's free church I hope to go. + + + +XIV. Another Link To Life. + + +I had not returned to my master's house since the birth of my child. The +old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his +wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came +back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a +season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about his +forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to convince +me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no need of +descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious babe was +the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent contempt when +he talked about my having forfeited _his_ good opinion; but I shed bitter +tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. +Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance for +me to be respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a better +life. + +Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he +called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. "Perhaps that +will humble you," said he. + +Humble _me_! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated my +heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders have +been cunning enough to enact that "the child shall follow the condition of +the _mother_," not of the _father_, thus taking care that licentiousness +shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made me clasp my innocent +babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid visions passed through my mind +when I thought of his liability to fall into the slave trader's hands. I +wept over him, and said, "O my child! perhaps they will leave you in some +cold cabin to die, and then throw you into a hole, as if you were a dog." + +When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated +beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of +shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of +arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and +swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. +Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and +the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in +bed for many days. He then said, "Linda, I swear by God I will never raise +my hand against you again;" but I knew that he would forget his promise. + +After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the +pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can +describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too +revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother's knowledge as much as +I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my +troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and heard +him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man's tongue, she could not +always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should try to +defend me; but it only made matters worse. + +When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than it +had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more +terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, _they_ have +wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + +Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this +new crime against _him_, as he called it; and as long as he had me in his +power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, he +entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to +him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare some +nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took up my +babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. "Now stand there," said he, +"till I tell you to go back!" My child bore a strong resemblance to her +father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed this; +and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped upon me +and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the +grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his +vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He +took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my +face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness +before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he +hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but +I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There +was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I +was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to +life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived +only nineteen years. + +Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. +Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I dared +not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted at +their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we +resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away +from us. + +My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having +the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not +venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a +patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. "Now is +the time," said my grandmother; "we will take the children to church, and +have them christened." + +When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I +felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without any +reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal rights as +slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to _her_, and +she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, to know under +what different circumstances her grandchildren were presented for baptism. +Why had my lot been so different from my mother's? _Her_ master had died +when she was a child; and she remained with her mistress till she married. +She was never in the power of any master; and thus she escaped one class of +the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + +When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father +stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I +added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for +my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled +skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified +me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + +When we left the church, my father's old mistress invited me to go home +with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby's neck. I thanked her for +this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be +fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly +I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whose +iron entereth into the soul! + + + +XV. Continued Persecutions. + + +My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an +exulting smile. "These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of +these days." + +I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into +his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them +given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children +could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. +Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my +friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to +leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with +nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. +"Sir," said he, "she don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, and +I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her paramour. If +so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; neither can he +buy her children." + +The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he +entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He +seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had +learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide +her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now nearly +five years old, often inquired, "What makes that bad man come here so many +times? Does he want to hurt us?" I would clasp the dear boy in my arms, +trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the +problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child +left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. +"So you are left in disgust, are you?" said he. "It is no more than I +expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. +So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don't like to hear +about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!" There was a sting in his calling me +virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had +formerly done. He continued: "So it seems you are trying to get up another +intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you may +be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine for +life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I would +have done it; but you rejected my kind offer." + +I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen the +man who offered to buy me. + +"Do you tell me I lie?" exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. "Will you +say again that you never saw that man?" + +I answered, "I do say so." + +He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told +him to go to his grandmother. + +"Don't you stir a step, you little wretch!" said he. The child drew nearer +to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was +too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the +room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + +"Not yet!" exclaimed the doctor. "Let him lie there till he comes to." + +"Let me go! Let me go!" I screamed, "or I will raise the whole house." I +struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the door, +and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I turned my +tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so pale and +still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don't know whether I was +very happy. All the doctor's former persecutions were renewed. He came +morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a rival more +closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with whom he +accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother was out of +the way he searched every room to find him. + +In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold to +a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her because +she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter life with +him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near ties. She had +been torn from all her family years before. A few friends had entered into +bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to spend with them the +time that intervened between her sale and the gathering up of his human +stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense of +board and jail fees, and though the amount was small, it was a weighty +consideration in a slavetrader's mind. + +Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. +He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she +took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His +gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. +"How came this girl here?" he exclaimed. "What right had you to allow it, +when you knew I had sold her?" + +I answered, "This is my grandmother's house, and Rose came to see her. I +have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest +purposes." + +He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been +his slave. My grandmother's attention had been attracted by loud voices, +and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to +let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook +to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher and +higher, and finally boiled over in words. "Get out of my house!" she +exclaimed. "Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will +have enough to do, without watching my family." + +He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of +sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by +compulsion of his wife; that he needn't accuse her, for he was the one to +blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and +more excited as she went on. "I tell you what, Dr. Flint," said she, "you +ain't got many more years to live, and you'd better be saying your prayers. +It will take 'em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your soul." + +"Do you know whom you are talking to?" he exclaimed. + +She replied, "Yes, I know very well who I am talking to." + +He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes +met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and +weary--weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen her +love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, always +ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace and +contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon Slavery. + +The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; and +when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also. +My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was dreaming of +freedom again; more for my children's sake than my own. I planned and I +planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of overcoming +them; and yet I hoped. + +Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had +invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great +consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my +grandmother's, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I +was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend's house. +They sent me a dark wrapper, I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did +not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but +I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the doctor +came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did not +believe me, and sent to my friend's house to ascertain the facts. He came +in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. +He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. +"I suppose you need some recreation," said he, "but I am surprised at your +being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for _you_. Are you +_allowed_ to visit such people?" + +I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; +but I merely replied, "I went to visit my friends, and any company they +keep is good enough for me." + +He went on to say, "I have seen very little of you of late, but my interest +in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on you I was +rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself and your +children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to what I am +about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no +communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a +cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be +light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda--a +home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you +at times, your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from +my own children, and I consider you as yet a child." + +He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. "Why don't you speak?" +said he. "What more do you wait for?" + +"Nothing, sir." + +"Then you accept my offer?" + +"No, sir." + +His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and +replied, "You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there +are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will be +obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you and +your children shall be sent to your young master's plantation, there to +remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall fare +like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider it." + +He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready +to give my answer now. + +"I will not receive it now," he replied. "You act too much from impulse. +Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you +choose." + +On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my +master's offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be +impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he +gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. +The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But +then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect +was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare +me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, +and my weakness would be his triumph. + +Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be +married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy +in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for +punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very +soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and +save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to +myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I would +not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + +On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise +choice. + +"I am ready to go to the plantation, sir," I replied. + +"Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?" said +he. + +I told him I had. + +"Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you," he replied. +"Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl +shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!" He left +the room with curses, not to be repeated. + +As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, "Linda, child, +what did you tell him?" + +I answered that I was going to the plantation. + +"_Must_ you go?" said she. "Can't something be done to stop it?" + +I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She +said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how faithfully +she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own baby from her +breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been out of the family +so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them for my time, and +the money would procure a woman who had more strength for the situation +than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in saying, "He will +listen to _me_, Linda." She went, and was treated as I expected. He coolly +listened to what she said, but denied her request. He told her that what he +did was for my good, that my feelings were entirely above my situation, and +that on the plantation I would receive treatment that was suitable to my +behavior. + +My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight +my battle alone. I had a woman's pride, and a mother's love for my +children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter +dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had a +determined will. There is might in each. + + + +XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + + +Early the next morning I left my grandmother's with my youngest child. My +boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old +wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to +be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the +time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what +purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far +as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short +as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow him +up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left below in +the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so carefully +tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the yard. This was +kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My task was to fit +up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst of sheets, +tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as busy planning, +as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. +She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbor, "I've +got her down here, and I'll soon take the town notions out of her head. My +father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her in +long ago." The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have been +quite as manly to have made it to my face. He _had_ said things to my face +which might, or might not, have surprised his neighbor if he had known of +them. He was "a chip of the old block." + +I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, +so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness +before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it would +be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily saw him +beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed by the +lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much more +must I suffer, before I should be "broke in" to that degree? + +I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an opportunity +to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections that made it +difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my lot. +Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a +suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. +Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and +in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where I +was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother's heart bleed. I +was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked +out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in search +of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I looked +under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and drew her +out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for her if +she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled to hear +some one say, "Did you speak to me?" I looked up, and saw Mr. Flint +standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, away. +That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This +generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he had +killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed that +incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + +The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put +Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to +have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required +attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware +that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + +I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It +must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, +and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, +often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we +started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing +the journey. I arrived at my grandmother's. Her bed room was on the first +floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and +she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by +should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round +me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and +thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. As +I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, "Mother is +here." After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and he +sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that it +was I, he exclaimed, "O mother! you ain't dad, are you? They didn't cut off +your head at the plantation, did they?" + +My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny back +in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. Rapidly we +retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we were met by a +company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse's hoofs before they +came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large tree. They passed, +hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a recent carousal. How +thankful we were that they had not their dogs with them! We hastened our +footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we heard the sound of the +hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We were safely in the house +before the horn summoned them to their labor. I divided my little parcel of +food with my guide, knowing that he had lost the chance of grinding his +corn, and must toil all day in the field. + +Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was +idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew +nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented +himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the +necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, and +make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to consent +to that arrangement. + +When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. +Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty +dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she +stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we all +called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such occasions +the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups and silver +spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot muffins, +tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two cows, and the +fresh cream was Miss Fanny's delight. She invariably declared that it was +the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times together. They would work +and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles +would get dim with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When +Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled with grandmother's best +cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + +There had been a time when Dr. Flint's wife came to take tea with us, and +when her children were also sent to have a feast of "Aunt Marthy's" nice +cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was +angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She +would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother's +feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had +nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor's wife would gladly have +prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but +fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had +enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from +charity, however lavish it may be. + +Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to +see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the +house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had many +talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see how I +was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She inquired +whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. She +condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and all +my grandmother's family were at rest in our graves, for not until then +should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I +was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my +children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + +Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the +town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for +myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity +could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved +abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp +upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my helpless +children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the boon would +have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have taken it at the +expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, every sacrifice +I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and gave me fresh +courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in a +seemingly endless night of storms. + +The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint's bride was expected to +take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, and +Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, and +return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various +orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It +was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever +asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than one +night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday +would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A +calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a +day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever +spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last +talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! +Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, +better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom that +awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from it, or +perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my poor +parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. "There the wicked cease from +troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest +together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free +from his master." I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as +I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or +to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother's blessing when she died; +and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, +sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded +heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone from +my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as I +remembered my mother. + +The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke +the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My spirit +was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years I had +frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as now. A +black stump, at the head of my mother's grave, was all that remained of a +tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small wooden board, +bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly obliterated. I knelt +down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to God for guidance and +support in the perilous step I was about to take. As I passed the wreck of +the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner's time, the slaves had been +allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my father's voice come from +it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached freedom or the grave. I rushed +on with renovated hopes. My trust in God had been strengthened by that +prayer among the graves. + +My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a +few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get +discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently +finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I +knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children +comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was +packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I +was doing. "I am putting my things in order," I replied. I tried to look +and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the +surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked +earnestly at me, and said, "Linda, do you want to kill your old +grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old +now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you." + +I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to +secure their freedom. + +"Ah, my child," said she, "don't trust too much to him. Stand by your own +children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who +forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy +moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to +live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be +dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a +little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect." + +My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that +faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I +would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + +Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, +she would say, "Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She +don't love you as I do." And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to +reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I +loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was the +last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + +On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with preparations +for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful day, and the +faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor creatures were +merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, and hoping for +better times under her administration. I had no such hopes for them. I knew +that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their authority and +importance would be best established and maintained by cruelty; and what I +had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to expect that her rule +over them would be less severe than that of the master and overseer. Truly, +the colored race are the most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of +the earth. That their masters sleep in safety is owing to their +superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon their sufferings with less +pity than they would bestow on those of a horse or a dog. + +I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She +was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion at +sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy future +were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds would +come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and told me +she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid old Mrs. +Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to please +her. + +All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind +the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my +life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who +would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not +made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting the +house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I had +no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, considered +my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing could please +her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was just where she +would have me--in the power of a hard, unprincipled master. She did not +speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphant +smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent than words. The old +doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and +there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said "your _mistress_." I +was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last key +turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season of +rest for the weary. + +The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly +appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday +evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received +their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and +perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound +and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. +Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The +meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on +planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the +building, and when the first foreman called out, "Who takes this piece of +meat?" he answered by calling somebody's name. This method was resorted to +as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young +mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she +soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their +allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family +through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the +mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were +too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered +much before he found rest in the grave. + +My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old +Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her +daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the +conference. The old doctor's wife had been informed that I could leave the +plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. If +she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have had +no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage to +return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, "Don't neglect to send for them +as quick as possible." My heart was on the watch all the time, and I at +once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next day, +and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, "Don't +wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow." I saw through the plan. They +thought my children's being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it +was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as +slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always +manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. +Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor +performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half +famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and +the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered to +carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, "Linda, how do you +like your new home?" I told him I liked it as well as I expected. He +replied, "They don't think you are contented, and to-morrow they are going +to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. I hope +they will treat you kindly." I hurried from the room, unable to thank him. +My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought to the +plantation to be "broke in." + +To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely +information. It nerved me to immediate action. + + + +XVII. The Flight. + + +Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he +had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of course, +with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave them. Mr. +Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of the +servants' quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I mustn't +bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on her +carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a +thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. I +therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as I +was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in their +power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to leave +them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon my dear +old grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children would +have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening work with +trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to inquire +why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. +"You have had time enough to do it," said he. "Take care how you answer +me!" + +I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third +story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how +fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost +need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I +failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made +to suffer for my fault. + +At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second +floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and +looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see +nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of +rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, +and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped my +way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning speed. I +arrived at my grandmother's house, but dared not see her. She would say, +"Linda, you are killing me;" and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped +softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in the +house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trusted +with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she +raised the window, and I whispered, "Sally, I have run away. Let me in, +quick." She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, "For God's sake, +don't. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands was +here last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he wanted +her to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would help her all +he could. Don't run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all bowed down wid +trouble now." + +I replied, "Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation +to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have +me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?" + +"No, chile, no," answered she. "When dey finds you is gone, dey won't want +de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery +inch ob dis house." + +I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to +know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all +my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint and +the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the sight of +my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not go into +the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed where lay +my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and +motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to +them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I +knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, +and turned away. + +As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my shoulder, +and said, "Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your uncle." + +"No, Sally," I replied, "I want no one to be brought into trouble on my +account." + +I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house +of the friend who was to conceal me. + +Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother's inquiring for me. +She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He +watched her face narrowly, and said, "Don't you know any thing about her +running off?" She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, "Last +night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very +kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are her +children with you?" When told that they were, he said, "I am very glad to +hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that any +of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I'll give +'em five hundred lashes." As he started to go to his father's, he turned +round and added, persuasively, "Let her be brought back, and she shall have +her children to live with her." + +The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a +busy day for them. My grandmother's house was searched from top to bottom. +As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. +Before ten o'clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, +and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night +a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would +be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one who +went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he would +take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of course +she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before night, the +following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in every public +place for miles round:-- + +$300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto +girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, +and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a decayed +spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability will +try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of +law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes +her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered to me, +or lodged in jail. + +Dr. Flint. + + + +XVIII. Months Of Peril. + + +The search for me was kept up with more perseverence than I had +anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great +anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the +consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even +that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness +to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into +such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my +hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of +bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a +reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which +loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so +dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and +slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was +compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into +the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my +look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and +vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The +application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread +of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend +asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the +bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in +vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed +part.[1] + +[Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is counteracted +by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. The Indians are +accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie. White +men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammonia +with them as an antidote.--EDITOR.] + +I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. They +were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape, +they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let him +make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. When I +started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come what +would, there should be no turning back. "Give me liberty, or give me +death," was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my +relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they +said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and +that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in his +mercy raised up "a friend in need." + +Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had +known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had +also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At +this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not +unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her face, +and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My +grandmother shook her head, without answering. "Come, Aunt Martha," +said the kind lady, "tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something +to help you." The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and +sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated +them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was +unlike the majority of slaveholders' wives. My grandmother looked +earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said +"Trust me!" and she did trust her. She listened attentively to +the details of my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, +"Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda's +getting to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you +must solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a +thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in my +house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I would +trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a great risk; +but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to be ready as soon +as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send the housemaids on +errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda." The place where we were to meet +was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother was unable to thank the lady +for this noble deed; overcome by her emotions, she sank on her knees and +sobbed like a child. + +I received a message to leave my friend's house at such an hour, and go to +a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of +prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was +to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, but +I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I disguised +myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the appointed +place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I expected to +see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so intense that it +seemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We reached the house +and entered unobserved. Her first words were: "Honey, now you is safe. Dem +devils ain't coming to search _dis_ house. When I get you into missis' safe +place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis +skeering." Betty's vocation led her to think eating the most important +thing in life. She did not realize that my heart was too full for me to +care much about supper. + +The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over her +own sleeping apartment. "You will be safe here, Linda," said she; "I keep +this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not +accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless +they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care of +the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; and +you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I will +keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to bring +your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till night. +I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state +of things will not last long." Betty came with the "nice hot supper," and +the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she +returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my +throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed +of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + +I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the +most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with +light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my +window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie +perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. +Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of +satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed +over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly +compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed +against the strength of their tyrants. + +I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew +who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for revenge +than he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who had served +in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who was a +little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of compelling +my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my grandmother +should never see one of them again till I was brought back. They kept these +facts from me for several days. When I heard that my little ones were in a +loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. I was encountering +dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the cause of their +death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by +telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children while they +remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, +who had always been so kind to her sister's orphan children, should be shut +up in prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends +feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life +was bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It +was scarcely legible, and ran thus: "Wherever you are, dear sister, I beg +of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. If you +come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where you had +been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; if not for +the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of those you would +ruin." + +Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice +and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, +because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being +her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and eat +it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he +could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me +tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold +them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she repeated +their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would +flow. Old Betty would exclaim, "Lors, chile! what's you crying 'bout? Dem +young uns vil kill you dead. Don't be so chick'n hearted! If you does, you +vil nebber git thro' dis world." + +Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had +little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their +soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; +she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that +even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my +feelings? Betty's husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had +denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with +the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. +Flint's. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, +and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home +to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and his +wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen cried +all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true. +She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs. +Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, "Here, Bill, +carry this brat back to the jail. I can't stand her noise. If she would be +quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handy +waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her +white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the +doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for their +mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running away. She +hasn't so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its calf. If she +had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of jail, and save +all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! When she is +caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, and then be +sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What do you stand +there for, Bill? Why don't you go off with the brat? Mind, now, that you +don't let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!" + +When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint's saying +that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself +there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as +one of God's special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried +back to jail. + +That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till +near morning. Passing my grandmother's, he saw a light in the house, and +thought to himself, "Perhaps this has something to do with Linda." He +knocked, and the door was opened. "What calls you up so early?" said he. "I +saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I have +found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I shall +have her before twelve o'clock." When he had turned away, my grandmother +and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know whether or +not it was merely one of the doctor's tricks to frighten them. In their +uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed to my +friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of +me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. We +hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked the +door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of +carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. "Stay +dar," said she, "till I sees if dey know 'bout you. Dey say dey vil put +thar hans on you afore twelve o'clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, dey +won't know _now_. Dey'll be disapinted dis time. Dat's all I got to say. If +dey comes rummagin 'mong _my_ tings, de'll get one bressed sarssin from dis +'ere nigger." In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to bring my +hands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty walked over me +twenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the fireplace. When +she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas over Dr. Flint and +all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a chuckling laugh, "Dis +nigger's too cute for 'em dis time." When the housemaids were about, she +had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might hear what they would say. +She would repeat stories she had heard about my being in this, or that, or +the other place. To which they would answer, that I was not fool enough to +be staying round there; that I was in Philadelphia or New York before this +time. When all were abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said, +"Come out, chile; come out. Dey don't know nottin 'bout you. Twas only +white folks' lies, to skeer de niggers." + +Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very +still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my mind. +I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing to +sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my +discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that +chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too +dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the +house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in +terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the +constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I +did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It +seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and that +was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heard +approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself +against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there +stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, and +sunk down upon the floor. + +"I thought you would hear your master's voice," she said; "and knowing you +would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may +even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman's expense. He is so sure you +are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in +pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has +obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the +present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket +hunting after the bird he has left behind." + + + +XIX. The Children Sold. + + +The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his +purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. +My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also +was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on his +discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine hundred +dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two children. +These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the offer was +rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor would have +sold any boy of Benny's age for two hundred dollars; but he could not bear +to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed for money, and he +revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen till +she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but I presume he +reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At all events, he +came to the conclusion that he had better accept the slave-trader's offer. +Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would leave town. "To-day, +at ten o'clock," he replied. "Ah, do you go so soon?" said the doctor. "I +have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have concluded to let you +have the three negroes if you will say nineteen hundred dollars." After +some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He wanted the bill of sale +drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great deal to attend to during +the short time he remained in town. The doctor went to the jail and told +William he would take him back into his service if he would promise to +behave himself but he replied that he would rather be sold. "And you +_shall_ be sold, you ungrateful rascal!" exclaimed the doctor. In less than +an hour the money was paid, the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered, +and my brother and children were in the hands of the trader. + +It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor's +characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, +"Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not to +sell any of those negroes in this state." "You come too late," replied the +trader; "our bargain is closed." He had, in fact, already sold them to Mr. +Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons on +"that rascal, Bill," and to pass through the back streets when he took his +gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to his +wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, +supposing them to be the speculator's property, and that she should never +see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, "Aunt Nancy, I want +to show you something." He led her to the door and showed her a long row of +marks, saying, "Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for every +day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and the +speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He's a bad man. It's wrong +for him to take grandmother's children. I want to go to my mother." + +My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but she +was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. Accordingly, +she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When she arrived, she +found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children in the trader's +cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was afraid there might +have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and was carried home. + +When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and +proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without +stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that +drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not +where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look +upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and +cries of despair. + +Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and +Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going +"as far as wind and water would carry them." According to agreement, my +uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. +There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, +"You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them +gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I +must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, and +call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he'll never git +their mammy back again. I expect she's made tracks for the north. Good by, +old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must thank me by +coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That's going to be my +last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that's +got any heart. Move on, you fellows!" And the gang went on, God alone knows +where. + +Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as +the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that he +seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, and +wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was willing +to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint's power, even without charging the +customary fee. + +My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to +town. Great was the joy in my grandmother's house! The curtains were +closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little +ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their +hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt +prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and +though such a "parental relation" as existed between him and my children +takes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be +that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness he +had imparted. + +I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day had +not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that happened +to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the superstition of +slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the window, where I could +hear much that was said in the street without being seen. The family had +retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there thinking of my +children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of serenaders were +under the window, playing "Home, sweet home." I listened till the sounds +did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. It seemed as if +my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak +of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst of it appeared +the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen them +distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not how to +account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt +certain something had happened to my little ones. + +I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the key. +As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know +whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen +their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. +"Lor, chile," said she, putting her arms round me, "you's got de +high-sterics. I'll sleep wid you to-night, 'cause you'll make a noise, and +ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done cryin, +I'll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed 'em +myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear +you." I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no +sleep would come to my eyelids. + +At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the +vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a while +I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I recognized +the housemaid. The other said to her, "Did you know Linda Brent's children +was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa Flint was mighty +glad to see 'em drove out of town; but they say they've come back agin. I +'spect it's all their daddy's doings. They say he's bought William too. +Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I'm going roun' to aunt +Marthy's to see 'bout it." + +I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my children +with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? The +suspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me the truth +about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had overheard. +Her face was one broad, bright smile. "Lor, you foolish ting!" said she. +"I'se gwine to tell you all 'bout it. De gals is eating thar breakfast, and +missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! t'aint right to keep +you waitin', and I'se gwine to tell you. Brudder, chillern, all is bought +by de daddy! I'se laugh more dan nuff, tinking 'bout ole massa Flint. Lor, +how he _vill_ swar! He's got ketched dis time, any how; but I must be +getting out o' dis, or dem gals vill come and ketch _me_." + +Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, "Can it be true that my +children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!" + +Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had +returned to their grandmother's. The news spread through the town, and many +a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + +Dr. Flint went to my grandmother's to ascertain who was the owner of my +children, and she informed him. "I expected as much," said he. "I am glad +to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. +You need never expect to see _her_ free. She shall be my slave as long as I +live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. If I ever +find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running off I'll +kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to look at +me, I'll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out of my +sight!" + +As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his +own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to +strike her to the ground. + +I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my +childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old +doctor's threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The +darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery +might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, my +little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart believed +all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better to trust +than to doubt. + + + +XX. New Perils. + + +The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on +my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my +flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew nothing +of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I left my +master's plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give bail for +five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. Several +gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him he had +better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without giving +bail. + +The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to +Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the +floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her culinary +duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention that I +should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle's imprisonment would +last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. Flint would +do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my uncle might lose +control of himself, and retort in some way that would be construed into a +punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court his word would not +be taken against any white man's. The search for me was renewed. Something +had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They searched the house +I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At night, when all were +asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of confinement. The fright I +had undergone, the constrained posture, and the dampness of the ground, +made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon after taken out of prison; +but the movements of all my relatives, and of all our friends, were very +closely watched. + +We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already +staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of +perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends had +laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my persecutors +made it impossible to carry them into effect. + +One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my +room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it +was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some +noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend +came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. "I knows who it +was," said she. "Tend upon it, 'twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de +debble in her." I suggested that she might have seen or heard something +that excited her curiosity. + +"Tut! tut! chile!" exclaimed Betty, "she ain't seen notin', nor hearn +notin'. She only 'spects something. Dat's all. She wants to fine out who +hab cut and make my gownd. But she won't nebber know. Dat's sartin. I'll +git missis to fix her." + +I reflected a moment, and said, "Betty, I must leave here to-night." + +"Do as you tink best, poor chile," she replied. "I'se mighty 'fraid dat +'ere nigger vill pop on you some time." + +She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep +Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her +he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I +was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any +where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my +situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for +me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took +Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a +kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I +never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling +fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + +I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of +sailor's clothes,--jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a small +bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, she +exclaimed, "I'se _so_ glad you is gwine to free parts! Don't forget ole +Betty. P'raps I'll come 'long by and by." + +I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness. But she +interrupted me. "I don't want no tanks, honey. I'se glad I could help you, +and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I'se gwine wid you to de +lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de +sailors." + +I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young colored +man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an apprentice +to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not afraid to +trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked off. "Take +courage, Linda," said my friend Peter. "I've got a dagger, and no man shall +take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body." + +It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh air +revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me above +a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not recognize +me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter's sake, as well as +my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked on till we +came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy's husband was a seafaring man, and it had +been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me into his boat, +rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on board. We three +were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to ask what they +proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board till near dawn, +and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle Phillip had +prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been bound north, +it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly have been +searched. About four o'clock, we were again seated in the boat, and rowed +three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased by the +venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding place. But +I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the best that my +poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + +Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and +briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried +me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered +with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour's time they had so poisoned my flesh +that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw snake +after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of snakes +all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To this day I +shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, the number of +snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to thrash them +with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos were so high +and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very short distance. +Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to the entrance of the +swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the boat. It was not long +before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low whistle, which had been +agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter the boat, and were rowed +back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; for the heat of the swamp, +the mosquitos, and the constant terror of snakes, had brought on a burning +fever. I had just dropped asleep, when they came and told me it was time to +go back to that horrid swamp. I could scarcely summon courage to rise. But +even those large, venomous snakes were less dreadful to my imagination than +the white men in that community called civilized. This time Peter took a +quantity of tobacco to burn, to keep off the mosquitos. It produced the +desired effect on them, but gave me nausea and severe headache. At dark we +returned to the vessel. I had been so sick during the day, that Peter +declared I should go home that night, if the devil himself was on patrol. +They told me a place of concealment had been provided for me at my +grandmother's. I could not imagine how it was possible to hide me in her +house, every nook and corner of which was known to the Flint family. They +told me to wait and see. We were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the +streets, to my grandmother's. I wore my sailor's clothes, and had blackened +my face with charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of +my children came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea +who it was. + +"You must make the most of this walk," said my friend Peter, "for you may +not have another very soon." + +I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me what +a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + + + +XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + + +A small shed had been added to my grandmother's house years ago. Some +boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards and +the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats and +mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according to +the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet long +and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down +abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light +or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a +concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been +doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a +piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The air +was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. I +could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden that +I could not turn on my other without hitting the roof. The rats and mice +ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretched +may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it only by +the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the same. I +suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not comfortless. I +heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there was sadness in the +sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to them! I was eager to +look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, through which I could +peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It seemed horrible to sit or +lie in a cramped position day after day, without one gleam of light. Yet I +would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a slave, though white people +considered it an easy one; and it was so compared with the fate of others. +I was never cruelly overworked; I was never lacerated with the whip from +head to foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn from +one side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent my +running away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, +while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never branded +with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had always been +kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into the hands of Dr. +Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But though my life in +slavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God pity the woman who is +compelled to lead such a life! + +My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; +and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such +opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the +opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be +done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, +but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against +something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there +when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could have +been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. I +said to myself, "Now I will have some light. Now I will see my children." I +did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of attracting +attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next the street, +where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet in and waited +for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; then I bored +out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one hole about an +inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the night, to enjoy +the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I watched for my +children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. Flint. I had a +shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. Several familiar +faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of children, and presently +two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as though they knew I was +there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. How I longed to _tell_ +them I was there! + +My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by +hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle's point, that pierced +through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother +gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. The +heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me from +the scorching summer's sun. But I had my consolations. Through my +peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I +could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear at +Dr. Flint's. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York to +a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and had +breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she could +find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her reply; +but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his family that +he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as he passed on +his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles of land and +water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still greater +satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. My +little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did from +his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory +information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at +the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called +out, "Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her." The +doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, "Get out of the +way, you little damned rascal! If you don't, I'll cut off your head." + +Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, "You can't put me in jail +again. I don't belong to you now." It was well that the wind carried the +words away from the doctor's ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had +our next conference at the trap-door, and begged of her not to allow the +children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + +Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become +accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain +position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great +relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold +penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. The +winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; but +the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was +peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bedclothes and warm +drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep comfortable; but +with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were frostbitten. O, those +long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughts +to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future! I was +thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild for me to wrap myself up +and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. Southerners have the habit +of stopping and talking in the streets, and I heard many conversations not +intended to meet my ears. I heard slave-hunters planning how to catch some +poor fugitive. Several times I heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and +the history of my children, who, perhaps, were playing near the gate. One +would say, "I wouldn't move my little finger to catch her, as old Flint's +property." Another would say, "I'll catch _any_ nigger for the reward. A +man ought to have what belongs to him, if he _is_ a damned brute." The +opinion was often expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did +any one suggest that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion +rested on my grandmother's house, it would have been burned to the ground. +But it was the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where +slavery existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of +concealment. + +Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to +tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them +into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay +handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away +from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, "Dr. Flint, I +don't know where my mother is. I guess she's in New York; and when you go +there again, I wish you'd ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but +if you put her in jail, or tell her you'll cut her head off, I'll tell her +to go right back." + + + +XXII. Christmas Festivities. + + +Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied +myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. Were +it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are fearfully +looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, Christmas +might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers try to +gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and Ellen +had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could not +have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the +pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new +suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought +him any thing. "Yes," replied the boy; "but Santa Claus ain't a real man. +It's the children's mothers that put things into the stockings." "No, that +can't be," replied Benny, "for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new +clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time." + +How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that many +a tear fell on them while she worked! + +Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. +Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They +consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the lower +class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over them, +covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows' tails are fastened +to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, covered +with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, while other +strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep time. For a +month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on this occasion. +These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the morning, and are +allowed to go round till twelve o'clock, begging for contributions. Not a +door is left unvisited where there is the least chance of obtaining a penny +or a glass of rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rum +home in jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequently +amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man or +child refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears with +the following song:-- + + Poor massa, so dey say; + Down in de heel, so dey say; + Got no money, so dey say; + Not one shillin, so dey say; + God A'mighty bress you, so dey say. + +Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. Slaves, +who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend them for +good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without saying, "By +your leave, sir." Those who cannot obtain these, cook a 'possum, or a +raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My grandmother raised +poultry and pigs for sale and it was her established custom to have both a +turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + +On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests +had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free +colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always +ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white people. +My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take them all +over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open for them +to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs to look +at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, the +rooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard them +talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored man +had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of a +slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off for +white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders' feet. How I despised him! As +for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office were +despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did not +pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise money enough +to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by being a +constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise authority. If +he found any slave out after nine o'clock, he could whip him as much as he +liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the guests were ready +to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her nice pudding, as a +present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw them go out of the +gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So passed the first +Christmas in my den. + + + +XXIII. Still In Prison. + + +When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture +commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be +condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh +air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the +earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for +a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even +tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop +from the thin roof over my head. + +During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room to +toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so +stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all my +detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, +either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I +suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed _him_ to be out in the +free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the only means +of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon me! I don't +know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I should die +before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, +and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most terrible thunder +storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up +my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, +storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, and that was not +comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by +filling the chinks with oakum. + +But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of +doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw a +slave pass our gate, muttering, "It's his own, and he can kill it if he +will." My grandmother told me that woman's history. Her mistress had that +day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair +face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her +child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her +master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her +mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold to +a Georgia trader. + +Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a +slave, the wet nurse of her mistress's children. For some trifling offence +her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the +degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended +her wrongs in death. + +Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as +these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he +stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery +was "a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the +master, and a blessing to the slave!" + +I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. +My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I +had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and +tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was +impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother +William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched +tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire whether +there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to consciousness by +the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself leaning against my +brother's arm, while he bent over me with streaming eyes. He afterwards +told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an unconscious state +sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great danger of +betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied me with +drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. How to +get medical advice was the question. William finally went to a Thompsonian +doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and aches. He returned +with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the +ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal +in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly +cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in an +iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since I +had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made me +weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very +slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day. I +tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and even to love +it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of my children. +Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who would forgive my +sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it seemed to me there +was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I asked why the curse of +slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had been so persecuted and +wronged from youth upward. These things took the shape of mystery, which is +to this day not so clear to my soul as I trust it will be hereafter. + +In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight and +anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best +friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, +how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I +could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + +One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my +peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually +kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I heard +the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed up. O, +what torture to a mother's heart, to listen to this and be unable to go to +him! + +But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. +Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of +the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day +that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from his +wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + +When my grandmother's illness became known, many ladies, who were her +customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire whether +she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked permission to +watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, "I don't see any need +of your going. I can't spare you." But when she found other ladies in the +neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in Christian +charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, and stood by +the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who had been +repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, +and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent +for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should +have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my +grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attending +physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him coming +to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him a chance to +make out a long bill. + +As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that +a dog had bitten him. "I'm glad of it," replied she. "I wish he had killed +him. It would be good news to send to his mother. _Her_ day will come. The +dogs will grab _her_ yet." With these Christian words she and her husband +departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + +I learned from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and +gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could +now say from my heart, "God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of +feeling that I caused her death." + + + +XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + + +The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New York, +in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he returned +in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig candidate. The +doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted all his energies +for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of men to dine in the +shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of rum and brandy. If any +poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in the openness of his +convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to vote the Democratic +ticket, he was shoved into the street without ceremony. + +The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event +which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my +children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. Two +little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not to +let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. +Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since +the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I +supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother +concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + +The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, toward +evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found +myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch +from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles +gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I +could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all +the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, +screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, +and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were +failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, "Wait for me +a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha." When he came out, as he passed the +window, I said, "Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children." He +started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed +the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had +suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then felt. +Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And had he +so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not listen a +moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy within me, +that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some one opening +it. I looked up. He had come back. "Who called me?" said he, in a low tone. +"I did," I replied. "Oh, Linda," said he, "I knew your voice; but I was +afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do you come here? Is +it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are mad to allow it. I +shall expect to hear that you are all ruined," I did not wish to implicate +him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so I merely said, "I +thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and so I came here to +speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. Many changes may +take place during the six months you are gone to Washington, and it does +not seem right for you to expose them to the risk of such changes. I want +nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will free my children, or +authorize some friend to do it, before you go." + +He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness; to make any +arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + +I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to +crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for +I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the +house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom +window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over night. +He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we should +certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to wait for +a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + +I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I +had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength +that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the +floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the +storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. "Linda," she +whispered, "where are you?" + +"I am here by the window," I replied. "I _couldn't_ have him go away +without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?" + +"Come, come, child," said she, "it won't do for you to stay here another +minute. You've done wrong; but I can't blame you, poor thing!" I told her +I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle +Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back +to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and +asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I +was left with my own thoughts--starless as the midnight darkness around me. + +My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary of +my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my +children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was +willing to bear on. + + + +XXV. Competition In Cunning. + + +Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my +grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; +and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who +wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that +this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I +resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him +believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated from +that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any +trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, +and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would +trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it +was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was +willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York +paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into +his pocket, and said, "Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought of +a pedler yesterday." I told him the letter would be ready the next evening. +He bade me good by, adding, "Keep up your spirits, Linda; brighter days +will come by and by." + +My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was +over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to +examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for +once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to +render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted concerning +streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my grandmother, the other +to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed man, had treated a +helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and what years of misery +he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I expressed a wish to have my +children sent to me at the north, where I could teach them to respect +themselves, and set them a virtuous example; which a slave mother was not +allowed to do at the south. I asked her to direct her answer to a certain +street in Boston, as I did not live in New York, though I went there +sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow for the time it would take +to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the date to the messenger. When my +friend came for the letters, I said, "God bless and reward you, Peter, for +this disinterested kindness. Pray be careful. If you are detected, both you +and I will have to suffer dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare +to do it for me." He replied, "You may trust to me, Linda. I don't forget +that your father was my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children +so long as God lets me live." + +It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she +might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might +say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure +mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order that +she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint's house. I whispered it +to her through a crack, and she whispered back, "I hope it will succeed. I +shan't mind being a slave all _my_ life, if I can only see you and the +children free." + +I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office +on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say +that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter +he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring +it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the +next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and +asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I +might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound of +that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before I +heard the gate slam, and the well-known footsteps enter the house. He +seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, "Well, +Martha, I've brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, +also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don't choose to go to Boston +for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a +respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. +With _him_, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay his +expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her +children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her +freedom, you'll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no +objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you." + +He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had +suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of +his own, the purport of which was as follows:-- + + Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle's + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda. + +"It is very much as I expected it would be," said the old hypocrite, rising +to go. "You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and wants to +return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip about it. If +he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I should like an +answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha." + +As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. "Ah, +Ellen, is that you?" he said, in his most gracious manner. "I didn't see +you. How do you do?" + +"Pretty well, sir," she replied. "I heard you tell grandmother that my +mother is coming home. I want to see her." + +"Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon," rejoined he; "and you +shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger." + +This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother +was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go for +me. + +The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told +him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be +mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. "All stuff and nonsense, +Phillip!" replied the doctor. "Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row +in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she +wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust _you_. The +case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with _me_; +and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not +believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a +row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a +common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but I +forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no +wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she +arrives here." + +Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor "let the +cat out of the bag," by saying that he had written to the mayor of Boston, +to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the street and +number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date in the +letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated from New +York, the old man would probably have made another journey to that city. +But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully excluded from +the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to the conclusion +that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place to go in search +of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was passed; before +Massachusetts had consented to become a "nigger hunter" for the south. + +My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in +danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, "What will +you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven't been there? +Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he'll find out +something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish you +had never sent the letters." + +"Don't worry yourself, Grandmother," said I. "The mayor of Boston won't +trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in +the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other." + +"I hope you will, child," replied the good, patient old friend. "You have +been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will +break your old grandmother's heart. I should be expecting every day to hear +that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, poor +child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go 'where the +wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.'" My heart +responded, Amen. + +The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me +that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no +suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to +keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, and +it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I +resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time +to time. + +Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, +grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, +sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was +allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and +remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, +except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the +upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the +curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much +better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came +down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o'clock, when people +began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the +piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into +my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a +painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first +mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space of +the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + + + +XXVI. Important Era In My Brother's Life. + +I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had +gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters +from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a +manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to +him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William +wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some +time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had promised +to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would William +trust to a slave's chances? I remembered how we used to talk together, in +our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it very doubtful +whether he would come back to us. + +Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had +proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; that +no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled through +the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had tried to +decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they should be +at home shortly. + +We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, +but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late in +the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I felt +almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he no +word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in her +dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the uncertain +future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God's could see me, I wept +bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my children, +and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + +At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had +made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old +hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William's place occupied its +old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. She +thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my prison I +listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear brother's voice +and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by Mr. Sands to +tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that the +abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel troubled +about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few days. As +soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could never +expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + +If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the +messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old +grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I was +selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother had +gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a good +deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had +incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, +who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their +emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father was +now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises made +to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, depend +upon many contingencies for their fulfillment. + +Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and +anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it +seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the +children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it +would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as +only children can. Benny said, "Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has +gone for good? Won't he ever come back again? May be he'll find mother. If +he does, _won't_ she be glad to see him! Why don't you and uncle Phillip, +and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; wouldn't you, +Ellen?" + +"Yes, I should like it," replied Ellen; "but how could we find her? Do you +know the place, grandmother? I don't remember how mother looked--do you, +Benny?" + +Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an +old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had +witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts +unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that my +grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, "What's +the matter, aunt Marthy?" + +"O Aggie," she replied, "it seems as if I shouldn't have any of my children +or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I'm dying, and lay my old +body in the ground. My boy didn't come back with Mr. Sands. He staid at the +north." + +Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. "Is _dat_ what you's crying fur?" +she exclaimed. "Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don't know whar +my poor chillern is, and I nebber 'spect to know. You don't know whar poor +Linda's gone to; but you _do_ know whar her brudder is. He's in free parts; +and dat's de right place. Don't murmur at de Lord's doings but git down on +your knees and tank him for his goodness." + +My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the +escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was +only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and +prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my +family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + +It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that Mr. +Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his duty +to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be free; +and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better not +lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, "Don't worry about +me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur me on +to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to give +you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live happy +together." + +Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William's leaving +him. He said, "I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him +as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no +idea they could tempt him. However, I don't blame William. He's young and +inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the +scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor +House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. +He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather +shabby, and asked if he didn't need some money. He said, No, thanked me, +and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited +patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our +journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me +where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He +wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my +kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a free +man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. I +intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. +He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send for +him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me." + +I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had +not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could +give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at +his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had +he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he might +indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his freedom. He +might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be seized by +creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in his favor. +He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who had kind +masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present opportunity to +own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from his master on +false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his passage to +Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thus +requiting his master's indulgence. What would _they_ have done under +similar circumstances? + +When Dr. Flint's family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they +chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations of +Christian feeling, by saying, "I'm glad of it. I hope he'll never get him +again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon Linda's +children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in the +speculator's hands again, for I'm tired of seeing those little niggers +march about the streets." + + + +XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + + +Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the +father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful +devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that +when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn't doubt I had followed him in +disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to +entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to +time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into +Dr. Flint's hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the +conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over +my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + +A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands and +his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a fancy +to him, and exclaimed, "What a pretty little negro! Whom does he belong +to?" + +Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the +stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, +Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the +children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to +them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + +When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The +question seemed a mockery. What _could_ I do? They were Mr. Sands's slaves, +and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. Perhaps +he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any +decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. Mrs. Sands +had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no children +of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to adopt her, +and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to take +Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost beyond +endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for the sake +of having my children free? True, the prospect _seemed_ fair; but I knew +too well how lightly slaveholders held such "parental relations." If +pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required more money than +could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought of as a +convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O Slavery! Never +should I know peace till my children were emancipated with all due +formalities of law. + +I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I +could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to +remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his +honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, +and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep the +promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals concerning +my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had promised to +emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. I knew there +was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; but what will +not a mother do for her children? He received the message with surprise, +and said, "The children are free. I have never intended to claim them as +slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had better be sent +to the north. I don't think they are quite safe here. Dr. Flint boasts that +they are still in his power. He says they were his daughter's property, and +as she was not of age when they were sold, the contract is not legally +binding." + +So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were +between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was +powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. +Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his +relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that +she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, as +the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, +negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the +transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to +Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with +friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of +it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought +to me, that the bondwoman's child should tend her free-born sister; but +there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it +tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without +a mother's love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without +memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the +natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself that +I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire that +she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my image with +her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to my dungeon. +It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her mother was a +victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place to which it had +driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in one of the open +chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to think of +trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them I had +watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that I was +determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate it, I +would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the rashness +of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my purpose, they +yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, and my uncle +kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and went up stairs, +to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years since I had seen +it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken shelter when my +mistress drove me from her house; there came my old tyrant, to mock, +insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid in my arms; there I +had watched over them, each day with a deeper and sadder love; there I had +knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the wrong I had done. How +vividly it all came back! And after this long, gloomy interval, I stood +there such a wreck! + +In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The +door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I put +my arms round her, and said, "Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother." She +drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she laid +her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been so long +desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, +inquiringly, "You really _are_ my mother?" I told her I really was; that +during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most +tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk +with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, +"I'm glad you've come to see me; but why didn't you ever come before? Benny +and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and sometimes he +tells me about you. Why didn't you come home when Dr. Flint went to bring +you?" + +I answered, "I couldn't come before, dear. But now that I am with you, tell +me whether you like to go away." "I don't know," said she, crying. +"Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, +where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a +letter. But I shan't have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any +body to love me. Can't you go with me? O, _do_ go, dear mother!" + +I told her I couldn't go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then +she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted +to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the north, +before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him before he +went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night and sleep +with her. "O, yes," she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she said, +pleadingly, "_May_ I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own mother." He laid +his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, "Ellen, this is the secret you +have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak of it to any +body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and your mother +can never come to Brooklyn." "Uncle," she replied, "I will never tell." He +told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I took her in my +arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason she must never say +she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to try to please the +people where she was going, and that God would raise her up friends. I told +her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for her poor mother, +and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and I did not check +her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to pour her tears +into a mother's bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, and I had no +inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose any of them. +Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead softly, and she +said, "I am not asleep, dear mother." + +Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window +curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, +and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when I +ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad for +such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last kiss, +and whispered in my ear, "Mother, I will never tell." And she never did. + +When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone +in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for +Ellen's departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to +her, "Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. _Won't_ +you be glad to see her!" She replied, "Yes, ma'am;" and they little dreamed +of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was an +affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she +loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard the +gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can +experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I feared +I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let her go to +Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands's sister. It was my experience of +slavery that decided me against it. I feared that circumstances might arise +that would cause her to be sent back. I felt confident that I should go to +New York myself; and then I should be able to watch over her, and in some +degree protect her. + +Dr. Flint's family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after +Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on +Mrs. Sands's sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion +very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his +own character, in acknowledging those "young niggers." And as for sending +Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be +for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said +her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children were +her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could take +them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + +Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now in +her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable for +her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not +understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, +after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. +Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely +to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his +hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of +things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I +could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + +Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a +letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother's name, to inquire whether +she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to her +in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person there, +who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child's friends +at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, are +easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and +persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how +entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child +dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + +If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, +curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of +Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote to +request that she would send her children away from the great house before +his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman could +not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The +existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was +only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance +to him. + +At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. +It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had +just arrived. It contained the following message from her: "I do try to do +just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning." I +understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to my +heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, "Ellen is a nice little +girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has +given her to me, to be my little waiting maid. I shall send her to school, +and I hope some day she will write to you herself." This letter perplexed +and troubled me. Had my child's father merely placed her there till she was +old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a +piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return to +the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away from +me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to us. I +said to myself, "Surely there must be _some_ justice in man;" then I +remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural feelings of +the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted boy. He +believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of slavery, +would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely out of the +reach of its power! + + + +XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + + +I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint's family, and +who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from +him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as +slaves _can_ marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, and a +clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without any legal +value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they pleased. She had +always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint's chamber door, +that she might be within call. When she was married, she was told she might +have the use of a small room in an outhouse. Her mother and her husband +furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep there when +he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was ordered to her +old post on the entry floor. + +Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a +mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could +she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at +her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature +birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on +the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint's babe needed her attentions. She kept +her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature +birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse to +Mrs. Flint's children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of rest +at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint declared it +was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living child. The fear +of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them to allow her to +sleep in her little room in the out-house, except when there was sickness +in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one of whom died in a +few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember her patient sorrow +as she held the last dead baby in her arms. "I wish it could have lived," +she said; "it is not the will of God that any of my children should live. +But I will try to be fit to meet their little spirits in heaven." + +Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint's family. Indeed, +she was the _factotum_ of the household. Nothing went on well without her. +She was my mother's twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she +supplied a mother's place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I +lived in my old master's house, and the bond between us was very strong. +When my friends tried to discourage me from running away; she always +encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master's +pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never +to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of my +children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to leave +them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own life. +After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, to +bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I kneel down to +listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a crack! "I am old, +and have not long to live," she used to say; "and I could die happy if I +could only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as I +do for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness." I would beg her +not to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all suffering +sooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in freedom, I should +always remember her as the good friend who had been the comfort of my life. +A word from her always strengthened me; and not me only. The whole family +relied upon her judgement, and were guided by her advice. I had been in my +cell six years when my grandmother was summoned to the bedside of this, her +last remaining daughter. She was very ill, and they said she would die. +Grandmother had not entered Dr. Flint's house for several years. They had +treated her cruelly, but she thought nothing of that now. She was grateful +for permission to watch by the death-bed of her child. They had always been +devoted to each other; and now they sat looking into each other's eyes, +longing to speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of +both. My aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and +the last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, +she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she +would try to hold up her hand; to let her know that all was well with her. +Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying +woman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His +eyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful +servant, and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took +to her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone +with the dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always +been a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. "Martha," +said he, "aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I +hope you will be kind to him, for her sake." She replied, "Your wife was my +foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you little +know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her children." + +"I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it," +said he; "and that Linda would come to supply her aunt's place. She would +be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish +it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she +would be a great comfort to your old age." He knew he was touching a +tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, "It was +not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine +children only one is left. God help me!" + +To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew +that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped +to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to +hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I +could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip +came into the house, I heard some one inquire, "How is she?" and he +answered, "She is dead." My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew +nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over me. +I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, "Linda, she died happy." +I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. "Don't look _so_" he said. +"Don't add to my poor mother's trouble. Remember how much she has to bear, +and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her." Ah, yes, that blessed +old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting storms +of a slave-mother's life. She did indeed need consolation! + +Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently +without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health +by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she became +very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful +illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if +the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for +the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in +the doctor's family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed +interment in the white people's burying-ground, and the minister knew that +all the deceased of your family reposed together in the old graveyard of +the slaves. He therefore replied, "I have no objection to complying with +your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy's _mother_ may have some choice as to +where her remains shall be deposited." + +It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. +When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to lie +with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be +buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it +was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from _her_. She might have +added with touching pathos, "I was so long _used_ to sleep with her lying +near me, on the entry floor." + +My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; +and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors to slaves and +their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly +respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint's minister read +the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond +and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our +family. Dr. Flint's carriage was in the procession; and when the body was +deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and +returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty +nobly. + +It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern +travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute of +respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the "patriarchal +institution;" a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and +their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this +impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ could have told them a +different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and +sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they _had_ any hearts +to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the poor old +slave-mother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred dollars to +buy her son Phillip's right to his own earnings; and how that same Phillip +paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as doing so much +credit to the master. We could also have told them of a poor, blighted +young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to avoid the tortures +that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come out and look on the +face of her departed friend. + +All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting +for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes +falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + +It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always +been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But +her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving +deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to +come to the trapdoor, and each place had a different meaning. She now came +oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while +tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to +comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to +help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old back +was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + + + +XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + + +I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived +in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no +space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to me +a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that +long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now +living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + +Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely +large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, heard the +patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of +runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + +Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children's faces, and +heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, "Your +mother is here." Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled away +since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I was +stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know when +these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the +sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + +After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that +Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; +and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect +them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my +den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out +of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some +one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they +spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been +laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted +attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a +process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs were +greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, which I +sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper with me at +the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense sympathy for +runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted on those who +were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the sufferings of her +bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and dearest of her flock. +So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would groan out, "O, don't think +of it, child. You'll break my heart." I had no good old aunt Nancy now to +encourage me; but my brother William and my children were continually +beckoning me to the north. + +And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the +first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to +new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might +reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On +the New Year's day preceding my aunt's death, one of my friends, named +Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master's debts. My thoughts +were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what +had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and her +four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped from +her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie I have +spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my grandmother, and +built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling was searched and +watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I was obliged to keep +very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; and not long +afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her mother's hut. He +told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of it, explaining to +him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed the trust. Aggie +little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her daughter was concealed, +and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was bending under a similar +burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous secrets deepened the +sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + +My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each other; +but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my den, +which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so much +trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur greater +risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily pain and +anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, or some +contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from me. This +thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for the North +Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an unexpected way +for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and asked to speak with +me. "Your day has come, Linda," said he. "I have found a chance for you to +go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to decide." The news seemed too +good to be true; but Peter explained his arrangements, and told me all that +was necessary was for me to say I would go. I was going to answer him with +a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny came to my mind. I told him the +temptation was exceedingly strong, but I was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint's +alleged power over my child, and that I could not go and leave him behind. +Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said such a good chance might never occur +again; that Benny was free, and could be sent to me; and that for the sake +of my children's welfare I ought not to hesitate a moment. I told him I +would consult with uncle Phillip. My uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade +me go by all means. He promised, if his life was spared, that he would +either bring or send my son to me as soon as I reached a place of safety. I +resolved to go, but thought nothing had better be said to my grandmother +till very near the time of departure. But my uncle thought she would feel +it more keenly if I left here so suddenly. "I will reason with her," said +he, "and convince her how necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for +hers also. You cannot be blind to the fact that she is sinking under her +burdens." I was not blind to it. I knew that my concealment was an +ever-present source of anxiety, and that the older she grew the more +nervously fearful she was of discovery. My uncle talked with her, and +finally succeeded in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary for me +to seize the chance so unexpectedly offered. + +The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak +frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I +made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I +resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give him +cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting for him +at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to whisper +words of counsel. She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as I +arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She said she +would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the sake of +having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she could only +live to know _that_ she could die in peace. I promised the dear old +faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put the +letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that not +another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapacious +slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I had not +been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, common +humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at the +expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she was +trembling on the brink of the grave. + +I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further +particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained +several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder +committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this +unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told +the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the +neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about +runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate +awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and +groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat +contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was +grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + +When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and +vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long +time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need not +be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be glad +enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him about +poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his back +upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to help +her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. She +was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were made +for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed that I +had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in the +transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and stowed +away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased at a +price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes to go +to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford the +cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from slavery, the +trembling victim is ready to say, "take all I have, only don't betray me!" + +The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark and +cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the vessel +had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter too, who +was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the wind and +weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with fright when +they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she must be +suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how thankful she +was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to come down to +the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under her weight of +trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a nervous, excited +state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock the door behind +her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the detention of the +vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then Fanny, and Peter, +and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would be utterly ruined, +and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he should die such a +horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, and all for his +kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be for us all! Alas, +the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a sharp pang through my +heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak soothingly to her. She +brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear daughter she had recently +buried, and then she lost all control of herself. As she stood there, +trembling and sobbing, a voice from the piazza called out, "Whar is you, +aunt Marthy?" Grandmother was startled, and in her agitation opened the +door, without thinking of me. In stepped Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, +who had tried to enter my room, when I was concealed in the house of my +white benefactress. "I's bin huntin ebery whar for you, aunt Marthy," said +she. "My missis wants you to send her some crackers." I had slunk down +behind a barrel, which entirely screened me, but I imagined that Jenny was +looking directly at the spot, and my heart beat violently. My grandmother +immediately thought what she had done, and went out quickly with Jenny to +count the crackers locking the door after her. She returned to me, in a few +minutes, the perfect picture of despair. "Poor child!" she exclaimed, "my +carelessness has ruined you. The boat ain't gone yet. Get ready +immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain't got another word to say against it +now; for there's no telling what may happen this day." + +Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that +Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised +getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very +still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house +down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because +suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate with +Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him too +much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter had +been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at once +that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a +stronger woman this time. + +He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had shifted, +and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of urgent +necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with her. He +was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the captain +saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his vessel in +search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, but the +boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on board. + +The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak +about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain +replied, "Why, the woman's here already; and I've put her where you or the +devil would have a tough job to find her." + +"But it is another woman I want to bring," said Peter. "_She_ is in great +distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if you'll +stop and take her." + +"What's her name?" inquired the captain. "Linda," he replied. + +"That's the name of the woman already here," rejoined the captain. "By +George! I believe you mean to betray me." + +"O!" exclaimed Peter, "God knows I wouldn't harm a hair of your head. I am +too grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great danger. +Do have the humanity to stop and take her!" + +After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any +where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself +Johnson. "Linda is a common name," said Peter, "and the woman I want to +bring is Linda Brent." + +The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being +handsomely paid for his detention. + +Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if +Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; +and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint's family till +evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. I +afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of it, +and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to betray a +suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + +I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The +intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him +for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every +day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to +venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up +together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating +interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a +little while, he said, "Mother, I'm glad you're going away. I wish I could +go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been _so_ afraid they would +come and catch you!" I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he had +found it out. + +He replied, "I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went +away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don't know what +made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night +before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in the +night; and I thought maybe she'd been to see _you_, before she went, for I +heard grandmother whisper to her, 'Now go to sleep; and remember never to +tell.'" + +I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he +never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other +children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to +the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had kept +a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a constable, or a +patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that I had seen him +manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the house, and I had +at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his actions. Such +prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, being +surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to be +suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. He had never +asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had often heard +him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being at the north. + +I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a good, +honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord would +bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live together. He +began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all day. While he +was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a small bag of +money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a part of it, at +least, to pay for Benny's being sent to the north; but she insisted, while +her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. "You may be sick +among strangers," she said, "and they would send you to the poorhouse to +die." Ah, that good grandmother! + +For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer +chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the +blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever +that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old +grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, +after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely +round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again +descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took +me by the hand, and said, "Linda, let us pray." We knelt down together, +with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, +loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it +ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and +protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in +God. + +Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in +body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, though +I felt that I should never see it again. + + + +XXX. Northward Bound. + + +I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, +and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle +Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might +reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. +A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something +pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. He +whispered in my ear, "I've been peeping into the doctor's window, and he's +at home. Good by, mother. Don't cry; I'll come." He hastened away. I +clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, +the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks +to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed with +joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to escape. Yet +that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a chattel! Liable, by +the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to be sold with horses +and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all too full for words! + +Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors +said, "Don't be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your +husband, in ----." At first I could not imagine what he meant; but I had +presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something the +captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should have +pleasant weather. + +When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an +elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of a +cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a spectre. +She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, "Linda, can this be +_you_? or is it your ghost?" When we were locked in each other's arms, my +overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My sobs reached the +ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded us, that for his +safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us not to attract any +attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight he wished us to keep +below; but at other times, he had no objection to our being on deck. He +assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we acted prudently, he +thought we should be in no danger. He had represented us as women going to +meet our husbands in ----. We thanked him, and promised to observe +carefully all the directions he gave us. + +Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. +She told me of the suffering she had gone through in making her escape, and +of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother's house. Above all, +she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that dreadful +auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the place +where I had passed nearly seven years. "We have the same sorrows," said I. +"No," replied she, "you are going to see your children soon, and there is +no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine." + +The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was +against us, I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight +of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our +enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables +would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain +and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had +heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely +in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be dreadful. +Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be tempted to +make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as property? I was +naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made me suspicious of +every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the captain or his men. She +said she was afraid at first, but she had been on board three days while +the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed her, or treated her +otherwise than kindly. + +The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His +friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny's testimony, reassured +me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and +occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by +birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and +that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. "But," said he, +"it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to +acknowledge my brother in connection with it." As we passed Snaky Swamp, he +pointed to it, and said, "There is a slave territory that defies all the +laws." I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it was +not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at it. + +I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so refreshing! +And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly sailing on +Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating breeze! And I +could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never realized what grand +things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived of them. + +Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain +said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better wait +till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to avoid +suspicion. + +I replied, "You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?" + +He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had +brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in +him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it +was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the +night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. +Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if +Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he +could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, +had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had +intrusted us. The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I +called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free +soil; for such I _then_ believed it to be. We watched the reddening sky, +and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. Soon +the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful glow. +Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and the eyes +of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, and we +supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone in the +world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered by the +demon Slavery. + + + +XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + + +I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted we +should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that all +were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind +captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease +to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to +the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were +placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood +wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain +touched me on the shoulder, and said, "There is a respectable-looking +colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and +tell him you wish to go directly on." I thanked him, and asked him to +direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and +said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste +I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with +salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the great +city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double veils and +gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so many levies. +I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. I thought if +he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I gave him a +gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and found out +how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the captain +introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, minister of +Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old friend. He +told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and must wait +until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home with him, +assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and for my +friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked him for +so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, I should +like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of the country. +Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he would assist +me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook their +hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, and they +had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly conceive of. + +I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people in +the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an +expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting on +deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide to +what nation I belonged. + +Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I +was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! +I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received her +sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home made +sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + +After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken +of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in +looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retracted our +steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed +that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was +surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He was +approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask +about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would +he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other at +the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some of +the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; but I +would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought he +ought to know how far I was worthy of it. "Excuse me, if I have tried your +feelings," said he. "I did not question you from idle curiosity. I wanted +to understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of any +service to you, or your little girl. Your straight-forward answers do you +credit; but don't answer every body so openly. It might give some heartless +people a pretext for treating you with contempt." + +That word _contempt_ burned me like coals of fire. I replied, "God alone +knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am +permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live in +such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt." + +"I respect your sentiments," said he. "Place your trust in God, and be +governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends." + +When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a +while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They +brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my +meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, her +face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery +friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of +encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked +concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how +careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. +How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have +been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale +of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my plans, +and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably established, for +the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The Anti-Slavery Society agreed +to pay her expenses to New York. The same was offered to me, but I declined +to accept it, telling them that my grandmother had given me sufficient to +pay my expenses to the end of my journey. We were urged to remain in +Philadelphia a few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us. +I gladly accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meeting +slaveholders, and some dread also of railroads. I had never entered a +railroad car in my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event. + +That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it +before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a +long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by +fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, +every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white people +thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for insurrection, +and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored people were +ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was but one engine +in our town, and colored women and children were often required to drag it +to the river's edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham's daughter slept in the same +room with me, and seeing that she slept through all the din, I thought it +was my duty to wake her. "What's the matter?" said she, rubbing her eyes. + +"They're screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing," I +replied. + +"What of that?" said she, drowsily. "We are used to it. We never get up, +without the fire is very near. What good would it do?" + +I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill +the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things +went on in great cities. + +At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and +various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early +hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. +Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast +table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I +joined in the mirth. + +I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends +that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind +hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. +Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of knowledge. +She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. One day she +took me to an artist's room, and showed me the portraits of some of her +children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people before, and they +seemed to be beautiful. + +At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham's friends offered to accompany +us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good hostess +in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had repeated to +her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made any allusion +to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly sympathy. + +When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, "I am afraid you will have +a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first-class +cars." + +Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. "O, no," said +he, "they could not be had for any money. They don't allow colored people +to go in the first-class cars." + +This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored +people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the +south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made +me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + +We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too +high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, +apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, +containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or +pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes +of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, and +my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs around +me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been some +improvement in these matters. + + + +XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + + +When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen +calling out, "Carriage, ma'am?" We bargained with one to take us to +Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and said, +"I'll tak' ye for sax shillings." The reduction of half the price was an +object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. "Troth an I +will, ladies," he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each other, +and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. "Yes, it's dacent it is, +marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin' ladies in a cab that was not +dacent." We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon +reappeared, saying, "This way, if you plase, ladies." We followed, and +found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on them. +We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the trunks +off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six +shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I +was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head +for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had +our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house +in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The +Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of her +in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of the +country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He came +immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him to aid +me in procuring an interview. + +I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just +arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north seven +years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came from the +same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my daughter +meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he agreed to +escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle Avenue, and +stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, when two +girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, and +recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to live +with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised and +rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and +inquired concerning her mother. + +"You take no notice of the other girl," said my friend. I turned, and there +stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from me to +take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years since I +parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less observing +than a mother's. My friend invited us all to go into the house; but Ellen +said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as quickly as +possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and see me. It was +agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her companion, Sarah, +hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I entered the house, I +found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her return. Before I saw +her, I heard her saying, "Where is Linda Brent? I used to know her father +and mother." Soon Sarah came with her mother. So there was quite a company +of us, all from my grandmother's neighborhood. These friends gathered round +me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they cried, and they shouted. +They thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe on +Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. How different from the +silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + +The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with +the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That +I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should have +sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I had +just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of my +having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on +several people. + +I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to +subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon +slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no +alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I had +recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my daughter +come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, inviting me +to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. The +conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I +asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no +heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an +unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she +asked very earnestly, "Mother, will you take me to live with you?" It made +me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and +earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed +with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school She +had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely knew +her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public +schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + +She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a +friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a +useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, "I +suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has _given_ her to my eldest +daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows up." I +did not answer a word. How _could_ she, who knew by experience the strength +of a mother's love, and who was perfectly aware of the relation Mr. Sands +bore to my children,--how _could_ she look me in the face, while she thrust +such a dagger into my heart? + +I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of +ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and +afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps +they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen's knowledge was +quite sufficient for a slave's condition. I was impatient to go to work and +earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. Mr. +Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been deceived +about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt that I had +none. + +I returned to my friend's house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to +protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called +myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down +that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the +lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his +daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + +Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother +William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in +Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New +Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling +voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to +get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave +me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my +rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I lent +this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a copy to +my readers. + + + +XXXIII. A Home Found. + + +My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly +improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I +walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who employed +strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, I could, +of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so faithfully +served. + +One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, +and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she preferred +to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of infants. I +told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many questions, +but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from my former +employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a pleasant +circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice against +color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try each +other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and I was +engaged for a month. + +The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this +place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and +sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of +passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so +painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would +have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save +me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told +her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and +kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, and +from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant +feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to +confide it; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost all +confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was for +some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful +feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had +passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of +her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began to +expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the +opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had +leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more +cheerful. + +The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, often +threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a home for +Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to accept it, for +fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my precarious +situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was important for me +to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor and economy, I +could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling satisfied with +Ellen's situation. She was not well cared for. She sometimes came to New +York to visit me; but she generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs that +I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This was +accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs's salary at the Custom +House became due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus many +dollars of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed. +That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that their +pecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious young +daughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners, and +had frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr. Flint put +Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation of the eyes, +occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce +proposed that she should come to New York for a while, to be under the care +of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It did not occur to me that there was +any thing improper in a mother's making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was +very angry, and refused to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not +politic to insist upon it. I made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely +free to act a mother's part towards my children. The next time I went over +to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had +employed her own physician to attend to Ellen's eyes, and that she had +refused my request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New +York. I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my +child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was +a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her +injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel +otherwise. + +Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that +it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce's babe. When it +laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms +confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and +Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, as +I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was attracted +by a young man in sailor's dress, who was closely observing every house as +he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my brother William? It +_must_ be he--and yet, how changed! I placed the baby safely, flew down +stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a +minute I was clasped in my brother's arms. How much we had to tell each +other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over each other's adventures! I +took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he +had loved and tended so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. +He staid in New York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen +were as lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are +formed by suffering together. + + + +XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + + +My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letter +requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received a +reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In order +rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear in mind +that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. They had +no idea that I knew of the doctor's three excursions to New York in search +of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five hundred +dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way to the +steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy's +death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept +the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:-- + + Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live--and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher. + +This letter was signed by Emily's brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I +knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and +though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in +former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the +hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to go +into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on "the stupidity of the +African race." I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their +cordial invitation--a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged with +base ingratitude. + +Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the +south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The letter +had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. Mrs. Bruce +did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called me +to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring a +friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. I started on my +journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother +that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting +for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal +power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and +when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of +sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, +but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of colored +children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, with +the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous to +their "peculiar institution," and he becomes unpopular. + +There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to +New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested +to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my +door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. "O mother!" he exclaimed, +"here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d'you do?" + +O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a +slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. +"Mother, why don't you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see +her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, 'O Ben, I wish +I was going too.' I thought she'd know ever so much; but she don't know so +much as I do; for I can read, and she can't. And, mother, I lost all my +clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I 'spose free boys can get +along here at the north as well as white boys." + +I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was +mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The +rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, with +the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with us, and +frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and be sure to +tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to Boston. + +Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon +me, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain where +I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the affectionate +family, who were waiting for me with "open arms," were doomed to +disappointment. + +As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of +my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through +the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and +finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the +considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews +with my darling daughter. + +But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was +necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh air, +and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might recognize +me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one class of +the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a comfort it is, +to be free to _say_ so! + + + +XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + + +It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We +went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for +tea, Mrs. Bruce said, "Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come +to the table with me." I replied, "I know it is time baby had her supper, +but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being +insulted." "O no, not if you are with _me_," she said. I saw several white +nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were at the +extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff voice said, +"Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here." I looked up, and, to my +astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a colored man. If +his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the boat, he might, at +least, have done it politely. I replied, "I shall not get up, unless the +captain comes and takes me up." No cup of tea was offered me, but Mrs. +Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked to see whether the +other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They were all properly +waited on. + +Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making +a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, "Take my arm, Linda, and we'll go in +together." The landlord heard her, and said, "Madam, will you allow your +nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?" I knew this was to be +attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I did +not mind it. + +At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took +one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, +of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but +here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round +me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize +me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + +We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the +remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the +clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see +Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, +were, "O, mother, don't go to Mrs. Hobbs's. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has +come from the south, and may be he'll tell where you are." I accepted the +warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and +would try to see her when I came back. + +Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a "Jim Crow +car," on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the +streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same +manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, +and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway +before dark, and put up at the Pavilion--a large hotel, beautifully +situated by the sea-side--a great resort of the fashionable world. Thirty +or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of the +ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only nurse +tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took little Mary +and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long hall. A young +man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the table two or +three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower end of it. As +there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my lap. Whereupon +the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner possible, "Will +you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand behind it and +feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the kitchen, where you +will have a good supper." + +This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I +looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade +lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence +were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in +my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce +ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered +for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they +soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The +landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his +servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of +other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + +My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with +_themselves_, for not having too much self-respect to submit to such +treatment; that there was no difference in the price of board for colored +and white servants, and there was no justification for difference of +treatment. I staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand +up for my rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man +and woman do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot +by our oppressors. + + + +XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + + +After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and +see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. +Hobbs's southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid +seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted +on my going up stairs. "My brother wants to see you," said she, "and he is +sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told me +to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many +little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her +grandchild." + +This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the south, +and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old slaves to +borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom they consider +an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he professed to +feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a distance, but as +he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was nothing to be +gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be the means of +exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He met me in a very +friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from slavery, and hoped I +had a good place, where I felt happy. + +I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful child, +never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant lookout for +my safety. She never made any complaint about her own inconveniences and +troubles; but a mother's observing eye easily perceived that she was not +happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her unusually serious. +When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing was the matter. But +I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very grave. Finally, I +ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation that was +continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very often for +rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbs +and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so that they +had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. "But for all that," said +she, "Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can't help liking him. I feel sorry +for him." I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up a +hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her and +Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not to +add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover till +years afterwards that Mr. Thorne's intemperance was not the only annoyance +she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to my +grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile language +into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + +I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found +Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. "O, mother," said she, "I've +been waiting for you this long time. I'm afraid Mr. Thorne has written to +tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. Hobbs will tell +you all about it!" + +The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine +arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, which +he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the time, +and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the pieces and +carried them to the children, saying, "I wonder who Mr. Thorne has been +writing to." + +"I'm sure I don't know, and don't care," replied the oldest of the +children; "and I don't see how it concerns you." + +"But it does concern me," replied Ellen; "for I'm afraid he's been +writing to the south about my mother." + +They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put +the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were +no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, "I declare, Ellen, I +believe you are right." + +The contents of Mr. Thorne's letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as +follows: "I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can be +taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here to +swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my +country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws." He concluded by +informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children +carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother's +room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they saw +him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to the +post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint a +copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, +and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the +next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of +the family were astir. + +It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city +with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and all +my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that demon +Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I had not +concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would have made +her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind heart. I valued +her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told her all the +particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was necessary for her +to know how I was situated. I had once left her abruptly, without +explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do it again. I went +home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness of my face +attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, I poured out +my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true womanly +sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. How my +heart blessed her! + +Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. +They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great +if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house of +one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my brother +could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my thoughts +were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was also mine +by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that made her +so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs, +who felt badly about her brother's treachery, yielded to my entreaties, on +condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise. +She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a school +satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in October, and +I knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in the streets to +purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and converted it into +one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, and when she saw that +I had taken off my clothing for my child, the tears came to her eyes. She +said, "Wait for me, Linda," and went out. She soon returned with a nice +warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of such souls as hers are the kingdom +of heaven. + +My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go to +Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in that +direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers that I +formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the steamboat +Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I knew that +colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very desirous for +the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure to the night +air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board for +us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular favor, that she +would treat us well. He said to me, "Go and speak to the captain yourself +by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure that he will not +let her sleep on deck." With these kind words and a shake of the hand he +departed. + +The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home +where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to +purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he +would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave +me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner I +said, "You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot +possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter." She assured me +there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were +allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much +travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain's office, +and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the +hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our +tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was +contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he +would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he +was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the +boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies' cabin. He came +afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that he +had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very much +surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don't know whether the pleasing +face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the stewardess +inferred from Lawyer Hopper's manner that I was a fugitive, and had pleaded +with him in my behalf. + +When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and +showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to +take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on +toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we +reached Boston in safety. + +The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if I +was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during +many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed +their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a +swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + +I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, +that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to +Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me for +that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her age, +so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her myself +till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter passed +pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with their +books. + + + +XXXVII. A Visit To England + + +In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in +this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. I +had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. Mr. +Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother's relatives in England, +and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little motherless +one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she would be +happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn more in +this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and left +Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + +We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage +of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the +Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had +seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. +For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated +according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as +if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a +pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, for +the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, unadulterated +freedom. + +As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the +wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed +through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in +our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days +with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to +accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English +education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight +in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates +and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good +management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did +not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like all +children--sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + +We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be +the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six +shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and +sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they +lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a +woman's wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of meat. +They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the cheapest +fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the United +States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of the +poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among the +poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched cottages, I +felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant among them +was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves in America. +They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while the stars +were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through heat and +cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very humble; but +they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of +night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he closed his +cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master or overseer +could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate +to earn their living; but the parents knew where their children were going, +and could communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and +wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land +to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor +people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies were +active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law +forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each other +in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine lashes, as +was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I repeat that the +most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants was a thousand fold +better off than the most pampered American slave. + +I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to +paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the +condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of _my_ +experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If +she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the +fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation +in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her +tell quite a different story. + +My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my +having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous manner +in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in my +native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; and +the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the gospel, had +given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole service seemed +to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in the family of a +clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of his daily life +inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian professions. Grace +entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I trust, in true +humility of soul. + +I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had anticipated. +During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of prejudice +against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came for us to +return to America. + + + +XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + + +We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to +rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be +afraid of one's native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I +hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and +improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had been +left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every thing +worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his +fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they +had never before suspected--that he was colored! This at once transformed +him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were Americans, others +American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their dignity to have a +"nigger" among them, after they had been told that he _was_ a "nigger." +They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that he returned +the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too spirited a boy to +stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do something to support +himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped for a whaling voyage. +When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and bitterly reproached +myself for having left him so long. But I had done it for the best, and now +all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to guide and protect him. + +Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily +Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:-- + + In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress. + +Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I +felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such professions. + + "Come up into my parlor," said the spider to the fly; + "Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy." + +It was plain that Dr. Flint's family were apprised of my movements, since +they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from +them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in +future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education +of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, but +unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a piece of +property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and during that +time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many comforts in food +and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but though Dr. Flint +had incurred no expense for their support, he had received a large sum of +money for them. I knew the law would decide that I was his property, and +would probably still give his daughter a claim to my children; but I +regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had no rights that I +was bound to respect. + +The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts had +not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so called. I +knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I relied on her +love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware that I honored +the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + + + +XXXIX. The Confession. + + +For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. +At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a +boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with +her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two +little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish +feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we +had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her +father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a +shrinking dread of diminishing my child's love. I knew she must have +curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was +always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now +that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, +she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the palliating +circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the subject, her +sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + +When we retired for the night, she said, "Mother, it is very hard to leave +you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve +myself. But you will write to me often; won't you, mother?" + +I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, +solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, "Listen to me, Ellen; I +have something to tell you!" I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, +and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they +had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and +exclaimed, "O, don't, mother! Please don't tell me any more." + +I said, "But, my child, I want you to know about your father." + +"I know all about it, mother," she replied; "I am nothing to my father, and +he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five months in +Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as he did to +his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for Fanny's nurse +told me so, but she said I must never tell any body, and I never did. I +used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he did Fanny; or +that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I thought if he was +my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl then, and didn't +know any better. But now I never think any thing about my father. All my +love is for you." She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I thanked God that +the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not diminished the +affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she knew that portion +of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her long before; for my +pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves out to some one I +could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the delicacy she had +manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + +The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the village +in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if all the +sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I was +thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, +requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my +return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an +anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of +some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried it, +but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, but +the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I +passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical +believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a +man's worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those +beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + + + +XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + + +My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to +California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen liked +her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her history, +and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make capital out of +their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered that her mother was +a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase her advantages and +diminish her expenses. + +I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I +preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from +Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling +little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a cheerless +distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl now, but I +loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was proposed that I +should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one hesitation, and that was +feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly increased by the passage of +the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to try the experiment. I was +again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, brought +up under aristocratic influences, and still living in the midst of them; +but if she had any prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it; +and as for the system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. No +sophistry of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a person +of excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to the +present, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with her +and hers! + +About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred of +disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first +fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of +the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign +of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl +of excitement, taking no note of the "short and simple annals of the poor." +But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of Jenny Lind +in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted colored people +went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from Zion's church. Many +families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, fled from it now. +Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made herself a comfortable +home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to +friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wife +discovered a secret she had never known before--that her husband was a +fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a +husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as +"the child follows the condition of its mother," the children of his love +were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those +humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the +legislators of the "dominant race" for the blood they were crushing out of +trampled hearts? + +When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to +California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our +oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I +seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our +oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did +not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by +his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent +and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; +and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the +family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What a +disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of +offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be +condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for +protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu +vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their +persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the +newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I +did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might +be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if +necessary; for if many were "running to and fro," I resolved that +"knowledge should be increased." + +This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly +relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to +a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter +heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was +included in the son's portion. This young man became a prey to the vices he +went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with +him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive +dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose +despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own +helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial +occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel beside +the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. Some days +he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to be in +readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving more or +less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town constable was +sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience how +much more the constable's strong arm was to be dreaded than the +comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, +and was finally palsied; and then the constable's services were in constant +requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke's care, and +was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring any gratitude +or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to increase his +irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere degraded wreck +of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of despotism; and if +Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable was immediately sent +for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy to be repeated. When +I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the +bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + +One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was +hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man +approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I recognized +Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had escaped from the +black pit; I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, though I no +longer called it _free_ soil. I well remembered what a desolate feeling it +was to be alone among strangers, and I went up to him and greeted him +cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I mentioned my name, he +remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive Slave Law, and asked +him if he did not know that New York was a city of kidnappers. + +He replied, "De risk ain't so bad for me, as 'tis fur you. 'Cause I runned +away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem speculators +vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain't sartin sure to +put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I's tuk good car 'bout dat. I had +too hard times down dar, to let 'em ketch dis nigger." + +He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. I +asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. "'Pend upon it, I hab," +he replied. "I tuk car fur dat. I'd bin workin all my days fur dem cussed +whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger had a +right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he lib till +ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil would hab +him, an vouldn't vant him to bring his money 'long too. So I tuk some of +his bills, and put 'em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he was +buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub 'em to me." With a +low, chuckling laugh, he added, "You see I didn't _steal_ it; dey _gub_ it +to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findin +it; but he didn't git it." + +This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. When +a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws sanction +and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard to +honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat enlightened, +but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused Luke, in +thinking he had a _right_ to that money, as a portion of his unpaid wages. +He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from him. + +All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children out +to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. I +dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their +appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws +as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called free! + +Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew +of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me +caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce's +children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which +slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at +their cupidity and mean servility. + +I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt +measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied +immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should +carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for +the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how +few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a +fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of +the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice +she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, "It is +better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your track, +they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there is a +possibility of saving you, you shall be saved." + +This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many +respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for +harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her +country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, "I am +very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. +Shame on my country that it _is_ so! I am ready to incur the penalty. I +will go to the state's prison, rather than have any poor victim torn from +_my_ house, to be carried back to slavery." + +The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write of +her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my +persecuted people! + +I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a +senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable +gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the +senator in "Uncle Tom's Cabin;" on the contrary, he was strongly opposed to +it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me remain +in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I remained a +month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint's emissaries had +lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, I returned to +New York. + + + +XLI. Free At Last. + + +Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I +was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a +cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was +doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to +breathe God's free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; +and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized +country. + +From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could +not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an +extract from one of her last letters:-- + + Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father's kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don't neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God's children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother. + +These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have +tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her +messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I +mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned +from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she +wrote, "Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! I +hope he made his peace with God." + +I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she +had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress +had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to +myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely +forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master's +death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the +grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his +memory is odious now. + +His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had threatened +my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after he was gone; +that I never should be free so long as a child of his survived. As for Mrs. +Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I supposed the loss of her +husband would be, for she had buried several children; yet I never saw any +signs of softening in her heart. The doctor had died in embarrassed +circumstances, and had little to will to his heirs, except such property as +he was unable to grasp. I was well aware what I had to expect from the +family of Flints; and my fears were confirmed by a letter from the south, +warning me to be on my guard, because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her +daughter could not afford to lose so valuable a slave as I was. + +I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, +being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I +went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy +about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list of +arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine the +acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. and +Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, and +that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that they +were short of funds and had need of my value, as _they_ valued me; and that +was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. Bruce. Her +heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and she always +warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how near the enemy +was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we were sleeping. He +might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I ventured out of +doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, and therefore I +could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A carriage was hastily +ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, taking the baby again +with me into exile. After various turnings and crossings, and returnings, +the carriage stopped at the house of one of Mrs. Bruce's friends, where I +was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned immediately, to instruct the +domestics what to say if any one came to inquire for me. + +It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had a +chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. Bruce's +return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. One +inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said he +had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in +person. + +They were told, "She _has_ lived here, but she has left." + +"How long ago?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"Do you know where she went?" + +"I do not, sir." And the door was closed. + +This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee +pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. +He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and +married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and +the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to +remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had +become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for +support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should make +an effort to put me into his pocket. + +I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most +implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge +had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make +inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint's family were +well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, and +he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. Dodge's +room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly inquired, +"What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?" + +"Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to ask +Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn't suppose it would give any +offence." + +"Where's that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?" + +"What girl, sir?" + +"You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint's +plantation, some years ago. I dare say you've seen her, and know where she +is." + +"Yes, sir, I've seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, +sir." + +"Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to +buy her freedom." + +"I don't think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would +go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her +freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn't do +it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her children." + +This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. My +friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I +received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in +the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business +was very plain. + +Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. +She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me +might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an +earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, +disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been +chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to end. +There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring to +worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for afternoon +service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, "Will the preachers take +for their text, 'Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the opening of prison +doors to them that are bound'? or will they preach from the text, 'Do unto +others as ye would they should do unto you'?" Oppressed Poles and +Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell was free to +proclaim in the City Hall his desire for "a plantation well stocked with +slaves;" but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring to show my +face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on that Sabbath +day! The Scripture says, "Oppression makes even a wise man mad;" and I was +not wise. + +I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her +right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This +it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. +Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young +daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had +suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger's when a +hunter tries to seize her young. + +Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned +away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations +unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o'clock in the evening +arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend +became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk +for my journey--trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. I +yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + +The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New +England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to +me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, informing +me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she intended to +put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt grateful for +the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not so pleasant to +me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become enlightened, +the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an article of property; +and to pay money to those who had so grievously oppressed me seemed like +taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I wrote to Mrs. Bruce, +thanking her, but saying that being sold from one owner to another seemed +too much like slavery; that such a great obligation could not be easily +cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my brother in California. + +Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter +into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars +down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish +all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my +master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The +gentleman replied, "You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this offer +you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will convey her +and her children out of the country." + +Mr. Dodge concluded that "half a loaf was better than no bread," and he +agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief +letter from Mrs. Bruce: "I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your +freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you +and my sweet babe." + +My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, "It's +true; I have seen the bill of sale." "The bill of sale!" Those words struck +me like a blow. So I was _sold_ at last! A human being _sold_ in the free +city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future generations +will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New York, late in +the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may hereafter prove a +useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to measure the progress of +civilization in the United States. I well know the value of that bit of +paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to look upon it. I am +deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, but I despise the +miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully belonged to him or +his. + +I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when it +was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary shoulders. +When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil my face and +look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have met Daniel +Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he might have +mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to sell me for +three hundred dollars. + +When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and +our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, "O Linda, I'm _so_ +glad it's all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be +transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your +services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail +for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of +knowing that you left me a free woman." + +My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried to +buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I hoped +his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old +grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and how +often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old heart +would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that we +were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God had +raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the precious, +long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. Like +other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless handling; +but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word is sacred. + +My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a letter +came with a black seal. She had gone "where the wicked cease from +troubling, and the weary are at rest." + +Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an +obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of +such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of his +friends, and contained these words: "Now that death has laid him low, they +call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to the +black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not require +man's praise to obtain rest in God's kingdom." So they called a colored man +a _citizen_! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + +Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I +and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of slaveholders +as are the white people of the north; and though that, according to my +ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast improvement in _my_ +condition. The dream of my life is not yet realized. I do not sit with my +children in a home of my own, I still long for a hearthstone of my own, +however humble. I wish it for my children's sake far more than for my own. +But God so orders circumstances as to keep me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. +Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her side. It is a privilege to serve +her who pities my oppressed people, and who has bestowed the inestimable +boon of freedom on me and my children. + +It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I +passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the +retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy +recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, +fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + + + + +APPENDIX. + + +The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of +Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by +friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the +preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her +hospitable roof. + +L.M.C. + + The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister's life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. + + As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit--naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, "You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read." Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. + + Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. + + This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been _bought_ was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: "I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me _that_ freedom; but man put + God's image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant." + + Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859. + +The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable +colored citizen of Boston. + +L.M.C. + + This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years' concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. + + George W. Lowther. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl +by Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 11030.txt or 11030.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/3/11030/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl + Written by Herself + +Author: Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +Release Date: February 11, 2004 [EBook #11030] +Last Updated: February 24, 2019 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS *** + + + + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +[Transcriber's note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.] + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + INCIDENTS + </h1> + <h3> + IN THE + </h3> + <h3> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + </h3> + <h4> + Written by Herself. + </h4> + <h2> + By Linda Brent + </h2> + <p> + "Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual + bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of <i>degradation</i> + involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease their + efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown." + </p> + <p> + A Woman Of North Carolina. + </p> + <p> + "Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! + Give ear unto my speech." + </p> + <p> + Isaiah xxxii. 9. + </p> + <p> + Edited By L. Maria Child. + </p> + <p> + Boston: Published For The Author. + </p> + <h3> + 1861. + </h3> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> I. Childhood </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> II. The New Master And Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> III. The Slaves' New Year's Day. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> V. The Trials Of Girlhood. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VI. The Jealous Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VII. The Lover. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The + North. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XI. The New Tie To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XII. Fear Of Insurrection. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIII. The Church And Slavery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIV. Another Link To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XV. Continued Persecutions. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVII. The Flight. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XVIII. Months Of Peril. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XIX. The Children Sold. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XX. New Perils. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXII. Christmas Festivities. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIII. Still In Prison. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXV. Competition In Cunning. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVI. Important Era In My Brother's Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVII. New Destination For The Children. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXIX. Preparations For Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXX. Northward Bound. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIII. A Home Found. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVII. A Visit To England </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XXXIX. The Confession. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLI. Free At Last. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR + </h2> + <p> + Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my + adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. + I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, + my descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of + places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on + my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to + pursue this course. + </p> + <p> + I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my + readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was + born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven + years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to + work diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This + has not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early + opportunities to improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these + pages at irregular intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from + household duties. + </p> + <p> + When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a + sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an + undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I + still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what + might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in + order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been + more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I + care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire + to arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of + two millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I + suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that + of abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery + really is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and + foul is that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this + imperfect effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + —<i>Linda Brent</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR + </h2> + <p> + The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and + her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last + seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a + distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be + highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further + credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be + disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are + more romantic than fiction. + </p> + <p> + At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have + made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly + arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the + import of her very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the + ideas and the language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but + otherwise I had no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of + telling her own story. The names of both persons and places are known to + me; but for good reasons I suppress them. + </p> + <p> + It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be + able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first + place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, + with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate + friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in + favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent + intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her + welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + </p> + <p> + I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these + pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and + much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, + and others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been + kept veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous + features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with + the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who + are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to + them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women + at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence + on the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the + hope that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before + God that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery + shall ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and + cruelty. + </p> + <p> + —<i>L. Maria Child</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INCIDENTS + </h2> + <h3> + IN THE + </h3> + <h3> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL, + </h3> + <h3> + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED. + </h3> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. Childhood + </h2> + <p> + I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood + had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent + and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were + to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On + condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and + supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his + own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though + he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never + succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, + and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, + though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I + was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable + to be demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was + two years younger than myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had + also a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable + woman in many respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South + Carolina, who, at his death, left her mother and his three children free, + with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during + the Revolutionary War; and they were captured on their passage, carried + back, and sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother + used to tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a + little girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. + I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as + she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that + her master and mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to + take care of such a valuable piece of property. She became an + indispensable personage in the household, officiating in all capacities, + from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her + cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that + many people were desirous of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous + requests of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress to bake + crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained + leave to do it, provided she would clothe herself and her children from + the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her + mistress, she began her midnight bakings, assisted by her two oldest + children. The business proved profitable; and each year she laid by a + little, which was saved for a fund to purchase her children. Her master + died, and the property was divided among his heirs. The widow had her + dower in the hotel which she continued to keep open. My grandmother + remained in her service as a slave; but her children were divided among + her master's children. As she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was + sold, in order that each heir might have an equal portion of dollars and + cents. There was so little difference in our ages that he seemed more like + my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for + he inherited the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon + ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars + were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother, but she + was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting + in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up three + hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to + pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or writing given + to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern laws, a slave, + <i>being</i> property, can <i>hold</i> no property. When my grandmother + lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to her honor. + The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + </p> + <p> + To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother + Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and + preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were + indebted to her for many more important services. + </p> + <p> + Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. + When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I + learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother's mistress + was the daughter of my grandmother's mistress. She was the foster sister + of my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother's breast. In + fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the + mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; + and, when they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her + whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she + kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a + slave merely in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for + her, and my young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take + care of me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be + with her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable + duties were imposed on me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always + glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young + years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, + with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When + she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I + bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were + happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the + morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human + being born to be a chattel. + </p> + <p> + When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As + I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I + prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been + almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and + they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears + fell upon her grave. + </p> + <p> + I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to + begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they + would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind + as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, + and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having + some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it + would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my + mother's love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory + of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the + auction block. + </p> + <p> + After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we + learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister's daughter, a child of + five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the + precepts of God's Word: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." + "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto + them." But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her + neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great + wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy + days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of + injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for + this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her + memory. + </p> + <p> + She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed + among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother's children, and had + shared the same milk that nourished her mother's children. Notwithstanding + my grandmother's long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her + children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no + more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the + horses they tend. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. The New Master And Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my + mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not + without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my + unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the + same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of + transacting business as a skillful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a + freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and + being brought up under such influences, he daily detested the name of + master and mistress. One day, when his father and his mistress both + happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated between the two; being + perplexed to know which had the strongest claim upon his obedience. He + finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my father reproved him for + it, he said, "You both called me, and I didn't know which I ought to go to + first." + </p> + <p> + "You are <i>my</i> child," replied our father, "and when I call you, you + should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water." + </p> + <p> + Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a + master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found + an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + </p> + <p> + When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and + cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I + moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + </p> + <p> + I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was + buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her + only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I + still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, "Come + with me, Linda;" and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. + She led me apart from the people, and then said, "My child, your father is + dead." Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not + even heard that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart + rebelled against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and + friend. The good grandmother tried to comfort me. "Who knows the ways of + God?" said she. "Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to + come." Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a + mother to her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; + and strengthened by her love, I returned to my master's. I thought I + should be allowed to go to my father's house the next morning; but I was + ordered to go for flowers, that my mistress's house might be decorated for + an evening party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into + festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. + What cared my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. + Moreover, they thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to + feel that they were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a + slave to teach; presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + </p> + <p> + The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my + dear mother. There were those who knew my father's worth, and respected + his memory. + </p> + <p> + My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little + slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about + the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried + to comfort him, by saying, "Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come + by and by." + </p> + <p> + "You don't know any thing about it, Linda," he replied. "We shall have to + stay here all our days; we shall never be free." + </p> + <p> + I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we + might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could + earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to + say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to <i>buy</i> his freedom. We + held daily controversies upon this subject. + </p> + <p> + Little attention was paid to the slaves' meals in Dr. Flint's house. If + they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave + myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my + grandmother's house, where there was always something to spare for me. I + was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my + grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something + for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to <i>her</i> for all my + comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was <i>her</i> labor that supplied my + scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress + given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the + badges of slavery. + </p> + <p> + While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard + earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never + repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed + executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate + was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, + prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which had been + purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the + family, from generation to generation. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother's mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she + should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the + promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old + servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be + sold. + </p> + <p> + On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, + proclaiming that there would be a "public sale of negroes, horses, &c." + Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her + feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose + of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she + understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very + spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress + intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. + She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and + preserves; consequently, "Aunt Marthy," as she was called, was generally + known, and every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good + character. Her long and faithful service in the family was also well + known, and the intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day + of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call + she sprang upon the auction-block. Many voices called out, "Shame! Shame! + Who is going to sell <i>you</i>, aunt Marthy? Don't stand there! That is + no place for <i>you</i>." Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her + fate. No one bid for her. At last, a feeble voice said, "Fifty dollars." + It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my + grandmother's deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same + roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her + owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights; and she + resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her + wishes were respected; no one bid above her. She could neither read nor + write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. + But what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with + human kindness? She gave the old servant her freedom. + </p> + <p> + At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had + passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had + defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One + of my mother's sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. + She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both + housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the + beginning and end of every thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She + had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were + so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, + till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of + the church; but partaking of the Lord's supper did not seem to put her in + a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on + that particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait + till it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had + been used for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children + from eking out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other + scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to + give them. Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times + a day. I can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from + her flour barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, + and exactly what size they ought to be. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table + without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his + liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat + every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not + have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram + it down her throat till she choked. + </p> + <p> + They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered + to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was + held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a + few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been + well cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent + for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman's + stomach was stronger than the dog's; but her sufferings afterwards proved + that he was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her + master and mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing + baby, for a whole day and night. + </p> + <p> + When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves + was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he + arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied + up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that + situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never + forget that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows + fall; in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his "O, + pray don't, massa," rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many + conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master + accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with + his wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being + the father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet + with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and + continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint + handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value + into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of + sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader's hands, + she said. "You <i>promised</i> to treat me well." To which he replied, + "You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!" She had forgotten that + it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + </p> + <p> + From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once + saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. + In her agony she cried out, "O Lord, come and take me!" Her mistress stood + by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. "You suffer, do you?" she + exclaimed. "I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too." + </p> + <p> + The girl's mother said, "The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor + child will soon be in heaven, too." + </p> + <p> + "Heaven!" retorted the mistress. "There is no such place for the like of + her and her bastard." + </p> + <p> + The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, + feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, "Don't grieve so, + mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me." + </p> + <p> + Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt + unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still + on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had + but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked + God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. The Slaves' New Year's Day. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty + slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + </p> + <p> + Hiring-day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the + slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until + the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters + give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until + Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they + are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may + think proper. Then comes New Year's eve; and they gather together their + little alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait + anxiously for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are + thronged with men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear + their doom pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, + or cruel master, within forty miles of him. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves + well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, "Please, massa, hire me + this year. I will work <i>very</i> hard, massa." + </p> + <p> + If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or + locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away + during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it + justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! + The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs + are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + </p> + <p> + If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, + without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. + After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + </p> + <p> + O, you happy free women, contrast <i>your</i> New Year's day with that of + the poor bond-woman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of + the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are + showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at + this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, "I wish you a happy + New Year." Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy + lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can + take them from you. + </p> + <p> + But to the slave mother New Year's day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. + She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be + torn from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they + might die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded + by the system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a + mother's instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother's agonies. + </p> + <p> + On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the + auction-block. She knew that <i>some</i> of them would be taken from her; + but they took <i>all</i>. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and + their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her + children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he + intended to take them; this he refused to do. How <i>could</i> he, when he + knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the highest + price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard face lives + to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, "Gone! + All gone! Why <i>don't</i> God kill me?" I had no words wherewith to + comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of hourly + occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid + of <i>old</i> slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I + knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She + had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved + to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who + would give twenty dollars for her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + </h2> + <p> + Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint's family, and those years + had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they + had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan + grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now + mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. + She would have been happy could her children have shared them with her. + There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most + earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that + He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed + hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her + children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We + reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated + as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet + balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always + met us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She + spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. + There was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things + for the town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our + hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully + made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother + William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master + that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He + came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. + It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing + here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose + restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom + to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that + scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad + I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and + swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + </p> + <p> + When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in + <i>every</i> thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and + should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + </p> + <p> + So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither + saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded + close beside me. "Linda," said he, "what makes you look so sad? I love + you. O, Linda, isn't this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and + unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did." + </p> + <p> + I told him that every body was <i>not</i> cross, or unhappy; that those + who had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love + them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or + mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would + bring us contentment. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he said, "I try to be good; but what's the use? They are all the + time troubling me." Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon's difficulty + with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas + had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas + said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; + but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting + the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in + that likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the + skirmish none the worse for a few scratches. + </p> + <p> + He continued to discourse, on his young master's <i>meanness</i>; how he + whipped the <i>little</i> boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle + ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he + always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. + One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for + quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was + often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to + do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong to deceive + the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the impositions + practised by his young master. I assured him the old man would not be slow + to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would end. William thought + it might with the old man, but not with <i>him</i>. He said he did not + mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the <i>idea</i> of being + whipped. + </p> + <p> + While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the + beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that + urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother's God-given + nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, + seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, + of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God's + most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + </p> + <p> + If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in + Benjamin's heart, and in another's, whom I loved with all the ardor of a + girl's first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render + me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the + petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + </p> + <p> + I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. + My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. + I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still + continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint's room, their creaking + grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what + I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new + shoes. "Take them off," said she; "and if you put them on again, I'll + throw them into the fire." + </p> + <p> + I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, + on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night + I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me + sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + </p> + <p> + I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress + would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated "the little imp," as + she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such + extravagant imaginings. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, + "She don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, and I have no + right to sell her." Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, + and I could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned + my affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and + his wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant + doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her + mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must + be the latter. I said to myself, "Surely, little children are true." + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. + My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I + was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, + that she believed I was telling a lie. + </p> + <p> + I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny + paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing + thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. "Well, brother," said + I, "what is the matter this time?" + </p> + <p> + "O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!" said he. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. "Don't be frightened, + Linda," said William; "I will tell you all about it." + </p> + <p> + It appeared that Benjamin's master had sent for him, and he did not + immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began + to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master + was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground + his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the + result. + </p> + <p> + That night I stole to my grandmother's house; and Benjamin also stole + thither from his master's. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two + with an old friend living in the country. + </p> + <p> + "I have come," said Benjamin, "to tell you good by. I am going away." + </p> + <p> + I inquired where. + </p> + <p> + "To the north," he replied. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his + firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my + words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more + galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly + whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he + must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought + back; and that was terrible to think of. + </p> + <p> + He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not + preferable to our treatment in slavery. "Linda," he continued, "we are + dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that's mean. No, I will not + stay. Let them bring me back. We don't die but once." + </p> + <p> + He was right; but it was hard to give him up. "Go," said I, "and break + your mother's heart." + </p> + <p> + I repented of my words ere they were out. + </p> + <p> + "Linda," said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, "how + <i>could</i> you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, + too, cousin Fanny." + </p> + <p> + Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + </p> + <p> + Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so + many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he + was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The + captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who + was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His + embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the + advertisement met the captain's eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its + description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. + The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that + port Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He + escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to + his master. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, + great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, "God's + will be done." Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from + her boy. Yes, news <i>was</i> heard. The master was rejoicing over a + letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + </p> + <p> + That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led + through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet + full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his + mother's house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her + distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and + she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her + child had said. + </p> + <p> + We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, + and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my + grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not + a sound broke the stillness. "Benjamin, Benjamin!" whispered my + grandmother. No answer. "Benjamin!" she again faltered. There was a jingle + of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through + the bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin's cold hands in + ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin's lips were + unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory + bring back that sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her + pardon for the suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to + forgive; she could not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when + he was captured, he broke away, and was about casting himself into the + river, when thoughts of <i>her</i> came over him, and he desisted. She + asked if he did not also think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow + fierce in the moonlight. He answered, "No, I did not think of him. When a + man is hunted like a wild beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He + forgets every thing in his struggle to get beyond the reach of the + bloodhounds." + </p> + <p> + "Don't talk so, Benjamin," said she. "Put your trust in God. Be humble, my + child, and your master will forgive you." + </p> + <p> + "Forgive me for <i>what</i>, mother? For not letting him treat me like a + dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for + nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I + will stay till I die, or till he sells me." + </p> + <p> + The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he + next spoke, his voice was calmer. "Don't fret about me, mother. I ain't + worth it," said he. "I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every + thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I + could." + </p> + <p> + She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when + sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned + to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do + likewise. + </p> + <p> + We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to + intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin + should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in + jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. + However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, + and we were allowed to visit him. + </p> + <p> + As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible + a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + </p> + <p> + Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a + purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum + was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He + was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered + with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered + with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of + them. He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that + they should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was + covered with vermin. + </p> + <p> + This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our + visits. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old + ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still + begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion + nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, "I am + waiting his time." + </p> + <p> + Those chains were mournful to hear. + </p> + <p> + Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that + loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave trader had + bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years + of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred + dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement + had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had + heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable + for a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a + girl. We thanked God that he was not. + </p> + <p> + Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened + the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, + and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly + pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you + would exclaim, <i>Slavery is damnable</i>! Benjamin, her youngest, her + pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview + with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be + purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to + sell him till he was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell + him till he reached New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of + love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still + be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she + labored. The trader's price would treble that he gave; but she was not + discouraged. + </p> + <p> + She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New + Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly + favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he + thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the + trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and + had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for + freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was + riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + </p> + <p> + For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion + that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed + out to the letter, and the <i>thing</i> rendered back to slavery. The + brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was + taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength + was slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to + retard his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? + He resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he + thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a + voice called out, "Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing <i>here</i>!" + </p> + <p> + His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not + stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his + old master's next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; + but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly + number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose + ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder's breast. + </p> + <p> + "Ben, you are sick," said he. "Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave + you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. + You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing + for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, + for there are several gentlemen here from our town." He described the + nearest and safest route to New York, and added, "I shall be glad to tell + your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben." + </p> + <p> + Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town + he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. + On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the + service he had rendered him. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had + gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my + grandmother's only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business + for his mistress. Through God's providence, the brothers met. You may be + sure it was a happy meeting. "O Phil," exclaimed Benjamin, "I am here at + last." Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free + land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. + He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the + old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but + something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. + He had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven + for self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not + desire a continuation of the same in another world. "If I die now," he + exclaimed, "thank God, I shall die a freeman!" + </p> + <p> + He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with + him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it + would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged + her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be + bought? + </p> + <p> + "No, never!" he replied. "Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out + of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I + would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay + all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know + she will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good + mother! Tell her to buy <i>you</i>, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, + and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what'll become of her? + Phil, you don't know what a life they lead her. She has told me something + about it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in + jail, he asked her if she didn't want <i>him</i> to ask my master to + forgive me, and take me home again. She told him, No; that I didn't want + to go back. He got mad, and said we were all alike. I never despised my + own master half as much as I do that man. There is many a worse + slaveholder than my master; but for all that I would not be his slave." + </p> + <p> + While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay + necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in + his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I + thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + </p> + <p> + His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + </p> + <p> + They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, + "Phil, I part with all my kindred." And so it proved. We never heard from + him again. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered + the house were, "Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York." She + stood looking at him with a bewildered air. "Mother, don't you believe + it?" he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her + hands, and exclaimed, "God be praised! Let us thank him." She dropped on + her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit + down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only + he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he + distress her when she could do him no good? + </p> + <p> + The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other + children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight + hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his + freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that + night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove + to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long + taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, "He that is <i>willing</i> + to be a slave, let him be a slave." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + </h2> + <p> + During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's family, I was + accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. + Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and + tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I + now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave + girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I + could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with + indifference or contempt. The master's age, my extreme youth, and the fear + that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this + treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means + to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that + made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he + thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, + although they left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure + principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with + unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from + him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live + under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior + daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was + his property; that I must be subject to his will in all things. My soul + revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? + No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her + mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from + insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by + fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the + helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy + and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of + slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would + willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are + told you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, + you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would + refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work + which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at the + south. + </p> + <p> + Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in + slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the + little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, + will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress + hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child's own mother + is among those hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous + passion, and cannot help understanding what is the cause. She will become + prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when + she hears her master's footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she + is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove + her greatest curse. That which commands admiration in the white woman only + hastens the degradation of the female slave. I know that some are too much + brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of their position; but many + slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot + tell how much I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am + still pained by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding + me that I belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would + compel me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after + a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my + mother's grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart + which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other + slaves in my master's house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; + but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew + too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that to + speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + </p> + <p> + I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have + laid my head on my grandmother's faithful bosom, and told her all my + troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as + the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared + her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a + respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about + telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict + on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was + usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once + roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once + chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one of + her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; and both + pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide in my + grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, her + presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she had + been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching + rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he did + not wish to have his villany made public. It was lucky for me that I did + not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that the + inhabitants were ignorant of each other's affairs. Bad as are the laws and + customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, + deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + </p> + <p> + O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it + is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what + I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your + hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once + suffered. + </p> + <p> + I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white + child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them + embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away + from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on + the little slave's heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to + sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood + to womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a + sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose + on her happy bridal morning. + </p> + <p> + How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of + her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine + of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, + whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + </p> + <p> + In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the + north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that + I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There + are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who + cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage + to go on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the + cause of humanity! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the + half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the + slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton + plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an + unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon's home in a + penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his + ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is + not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to + wish to be virtuous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband's character before I was born. + She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and + the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were + the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her + husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to + evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested + in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb + asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and + many were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day + he caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well + pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an + accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, + notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, "I + can't read them, sir." "Can't you?" he replied; "then I must read them to + you." He always finished the reading by asking, "Do you understand?" + Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his + supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself + there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away + the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These + intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly + throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited + my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had + exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his + patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me + at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When + there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to + address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he + would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. + Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be + forebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In + desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for + protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made + any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally + of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out + of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that + some threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + </p> + <p> + I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent + that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently + passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and + he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was + never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her + to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity + for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never + wronged her, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her + would have brought me to her feet. + </p> + <p> + After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his + intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in + his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same + room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, + and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing + to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, + I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often + held to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I + slept by the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent + to come into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family + many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed + it necessary to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove + the obstacle in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so + that he should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my + refuge by the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of + it. The first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The + next morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following + night. A kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint + heard of this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it + rage. + </p> + <p> + After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first + question was, "Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor's room?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am." + </p> + <p> + "Who told you?" + </p> + <p> + "My master." + </p> + <p> + "Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I + have accused you?" + </p> + <p> + "I am." + </p> + <p> + She handed me a Bible, and said, "Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this + holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth." + </p> + <p> + I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + </p> + <p> + "You have taken God's holy word to testify your innocence," said she. "If + you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me + directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master + and you." + </p> + <p> + I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed + frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, + that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon + convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt + that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had + no compassion for the poor victim of her husband's perfidy. She pitied + herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of + shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yet + perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was + ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been + much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but + my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very + refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object + of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not + expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I + was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders' wives feel as other women + would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from + small-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was + obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + </p> + <p> + I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it + afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she + rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room + adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not + to her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch + over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending over me. At other + times she whispered in my ear, as though it was her husband who was + speaking to me, and listened to hear what I would answer. If she startled + me, on such occasions, she would glide stealthily away; and the next + morning she would tell me I had been talking in my sleep, and ask who I + was talking to. At last, I began to be fearful for my life. It had been + often threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an + unpleasant sensation it must produce to wake up in the dead of night and + find a jealous woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I + had fears that it would give place to one more terrible. + </p> + <p> + My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She + changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of + crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. + To my utter astonishment, he replied, "I don't believe it; but if she did + acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me." Tortured into exposing + him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his + soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was + to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; + that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She + was a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the + hoary-headed miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and + better woman. She was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She + would gladly have had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I + have already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old + sinner was politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks + that would have exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. + How often did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants + knew each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the + multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + </p> + <p> + The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My + master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the + mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other + slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, + indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. + She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the + never-changing answer was always repeated: "Linda does not belong to <i>me</i>. + She is my daughter's property, and I have no legal right to sell her." The + conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to <i>sell</i> me; but he had no + scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the + helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter's + property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be + sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a + life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured + individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. "Did I not take you into + the house, and make you the companion of my own children?" he would say. + "Have <i>I</i> ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to + be punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense + I get, you ungrateful girl!" I answered that he had reasons of his own for + screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my + mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, "Poor child! + Don't cry! don't cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only + let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don't know + what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of + you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you." + </p> + <p> + I did think of it. + </p> + <p> + Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you + the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast of + Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the + poor fugitive back into his den, "full of dead men's bones, and all + uncleanness." Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give + their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic + notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year + round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The + young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her + happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of + complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they + are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the + flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + </p> + <p> + Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many + little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such + children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it + is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into + the slave-trader's hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of + their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + </p> + <p> + I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free + those slaves towards whom they stood in a "parental relation;" and their + request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness + of their wives' natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that + which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered + their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence + took the place of distrust. + </p> + <p> + Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, + to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern + ladies say of Mr. Such a one, "He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the + father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself + their master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any + decent society!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. The Lover. + </h2> + <p> + Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine + around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of + violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can + bow in resignation, and say, "Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!" But + when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery + he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a + young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that the + dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the + land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; + Nor words a language; nor e'en men mankind. + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, + And each is tortured in his separate hell. +</pre> + <p> + There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free born man. + We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together + afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I + loved him with all the ardor of a young girl's first love. But when I + reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the + marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but + I knew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to + that arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of + opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have + been delighted to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have + relieved her mind of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some + distant state, but if I was married near home I should be just as much in + her husband's power as I had previously been,—for the husband of a + slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, my mistress, like many + others, seemed to think that slaves had no right to any family ties of + their own; that they were created merely to wait upon the family of the + mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave girl, who told her that a + colored man wanted to make her his wife. "I will have you peeled and + pickled, my lady," said she, "if I ever hear you mention that subject + again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending <i>my</i> children with + the children of that nigger?" The girl to whom she said this had a mulatto + child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The poor black man who + loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his helpless offspring. + </p> + <p> + Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss + what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults + that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother + about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the + worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her + suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all + my hopes. + </p> + <p> + This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not + bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in + the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint's, who often visited + the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a + friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great + influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I + told her I was aware that my lover's being a free-born man would prove a + great objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent + to that arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable + price. She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to + suggest that perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that + would rid her of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised + to do her utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the + doctor, and I believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no + purpose. + </p> + <p> + How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his + presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next + morning, a message was brought to me: "Master wants you in his study." I + found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who + claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear + calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked + fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, "I have half a mind + to kill you on the spot." At last he broke the silence, and that was a + relief to both of us. + </p> + <p> + "So you want to be married, do you?" said he, "and to a free nigger." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger + fellow you honor so highly. If you <i>must</i> have a husband, you may + take up with one of my slaves." + </p> + <p> + What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of <i>his</i> slaves, + even if my heart had been interested! + </p> + <p> + I replied, "Don't you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference + about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?" + </p> + <p> + "Do you love this nigger?" said he, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "How dare you tell me so!" he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight + pause, he added, "I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt + above the insults of such puppies." + </p> + <p> + I replied, "If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro + race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you + call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did + not believe me to be a virtuous woman." + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the + first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my + anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, "You + have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!" + </p> + <p> + There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be + my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I + had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, "Do you know what + you have said?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it." + </p> + <p> + "Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I + can kill you, if I please?" + </p> + <p> + "You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to + do as you like with me." + </p> + <p> + "Silence!" he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. "By heavens, girl, you + forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to + your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne + from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How + would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?" + </p> + <p> + "I know I have been disrespectful, sir," I replied; "but you drove me to + it; I couldn't help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me + there than there is here." + </p> + <p> + "You deserve to go there," said he, "and to be under such treatment, that + you would forget the meaning of the word <i>peace</i>. It would do you + good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not + ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my + kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have + wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with the basest + ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable of appreciating + my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one + more chance to redeem your character. If you behave yourself and do as I + require, I will forgive you and treat you as I always have done; but if + you disobey me, I will punish you as I would the meanest slave on my + plantation. Never let me hear that fellow's name mentioned again. If I + ever know of your speaking to him, I will cowhide you both; and if I catch + him lurking about my premises, I will shoot him as soon as I would a dog. + Do you hear what I say? I'll teach you a lesson about marriage and free + niggers! Now go, and let this be the last time I have occasion to speak to + you on this subject." + </p> + <p> + Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I + never shall again. Somebody has called it "the atmosphere of hell;" and I + believe it is so. + </p> + <p> + For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; + to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable + addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base + proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his + eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly + than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to + make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange + letters with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I + was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the + house, he contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better + read it, and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It + expressed regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I + myself was wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the + injury I was doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he + had made up his mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several + slaves with him, and intended I should be one of the number. My mistress + would remain where she was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from + that quarter. If I merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would + be lavishly bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer + the following day. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I + laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my + answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young + mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to + stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his + letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, "I am your + daughter's property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, + wherever you please." He said he was very glad to find me so willing to + go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice + in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the story merely to + frighten me. However that might be, I was determined that I would never go + to Louisiana with him. + </p> + <p> + Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint's eldest son was + sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That + news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with + <i>him</i>. That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, + was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; + and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me + into the fields to work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these + protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect + than I had for a bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I + heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the + corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my + master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I + was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. "When + is mistress to be married?" said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths + and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free + man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the + street! + </p> + <p> + Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no + hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron + will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an + intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission + to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to + protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the + insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I + knew they must "follow the condition of the mother." What a terrible + blight that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For <i>his</i> + sake, I felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy + destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about a little property left him + by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly + entreated him not to come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, + where his tongue would not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of + more avail to him. He left me, still hoping the day would come when I + could be bought. With me the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my + girlhood was over. I felt lonely and desolate. + </p> + <p> + Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my + affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into + my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I + still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by + the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden + freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he + would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we + could get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier + said than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no + means of getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she + was strongly opposed to her children's undertaking any such project. She + had not forgotten poor Benjamin's sufferings, and she was afraid that if + another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To + me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, + "William <i>must</i> be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow + him." Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + </h2> + <p> + Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to + hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small + respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I + cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they + tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be + in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had + seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to + take her back to her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; + that many days she had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times + could get nothing at all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew + her master would not thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his + house. He ended by saying to me, "This is the punishment she brought on + herself for running away from a kind master." + </p> + <p> + This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New + York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of + such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe + such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such + a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom + could make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and + children. If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as + some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is + more valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own + capabilities, and exert themselves to become men and women. + </p> + <p> + But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into + slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who + strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; + but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general + mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by + favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to <i>utter</i> such + sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of them! + </p> + <p> + Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will + sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and + daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior + order of beings? What would <i>you</i> be, if you had been born and + brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that + the black man <i>is</i> inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is + the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing + whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the + South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who + enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. <i>They</i> do the work. + </p> + <p> + Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the + Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for + them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are + employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud + to do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and + Dixon's line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance + with their "peculiar institution." Nor is it enough to be silent. The + masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of + subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they + respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise "a + northern man with southern principles;" and that is the class they + generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very + apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their + neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are + proverbially the hardest masters. + </p> + <p> + They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created + the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who + "made of one blood all nations of men!" And then who <i>are</i> Africans? + Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of + American slaves? + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad + opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are + aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most + ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; + and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about + white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom + for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, + and that it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law + from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it + over. She said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to + the queen of 'Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn't believe + it, and went to Washington city to see the president about it. They + quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her + to make them all free. + </p> + <p> + That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to + whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate + to Queen Justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + </h2> + <p> + There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. + Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six + hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive + plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a + whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated + there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his + great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for + murder. + </p> + <p> + Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope + round a man's body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled + over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, + the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own + plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. + But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit + managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of + theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who + assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no + inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned, than the + accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave + stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection + followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form + was attentuated by hunger and suffering. + </p> + <p> + A freshnet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the + plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of + wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. + They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled + them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was + a dog's burial. Nothing was said. + </p> + <p> + Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after + nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + </p> + <p> + His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His + bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the + slaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, they + literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his + shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. + His last words were, "I am going to hell; bury my money with me." + </p> + <p> + After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars + were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a + rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his + grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was + found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was + again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were + never discovered. + </p> + <p> + Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor + of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of + intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of + his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front + of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly + cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A + member of the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he + might be taken down; but the master would not relent. He remained there + three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. + Another slave, who stole a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, + was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end + of two miles, he was so faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. + He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he + crept back that long distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his + master's, it was night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He + moaned, and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same + family. At last his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate + man at the gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men + returned with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The + back of his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend + loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and + left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When + his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his + hunger. This was his crime. + </p> + <p> + Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there + cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and + did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place + of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old + slave of hers once said to me, "It is hell in missis's house. 'Pears I can + never get out. Day and night I prays to die." + </p> + <p> + The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her + husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A + slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, + watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay + her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and + dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, "The devil is got you + <i>now</i>!" She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun + to talk; and she said to her father, "I did see ma, and mammy did strike + ma, so," striking her own face with her little hand. The master was + startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the + room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. + She confessed that what the child had said was true, and told how she had + procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + </p> + <p> + In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as + all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. + Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became + involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted + for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the + treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further + infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the + woods. He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half + naked, half starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to + his master's plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on + bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor + slave's offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have + whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of + the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched + creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with + strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal + sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which + was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could + not lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread + and bowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The + slave was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to + him. + </p> + <p> + Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On + the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When + he had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed his + master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that + horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine + into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly + eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had + gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often + asked each other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she + should ever hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and + knew that James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the + qualities that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put + him into a rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have + been manifested for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a + slave; and the feeling was that the master had a right to do what he + pleased with his own property. And what did <i>he</i> care for the value + of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily + toil, they must hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to + extinguish their pine knots before nine o'clock, when the overseer went + his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives + had gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall + asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn + called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, unless + they continually increase their owner's stock. They are put on a par with + animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, who had run away + and been brought back to him. No one called him to account for it. If a + slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon + him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was + highly educated, and styled a perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name + and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower. + </p> + <p> + I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They + are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane + slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening + influences around them. But they are "like angels' visits—few and + far between." + </p> + <p> + I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an + orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father + was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and + children living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their + mistress during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which + was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some + reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and + wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. <i>Her</i> religion + was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned + again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was promised in marriage to + a free man; and the day before the wedding this good mistress emancipated + her, in order that her marriage might have the sanction of <i>law</i>. + </p> + <p> + Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a + man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich + uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a + colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The + metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became + his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her + marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to + insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that + she had always been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any + where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their + comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a + happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, + they were convinced of its reality. + </p> + <p> + When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became + furious, and went to his mistress for protection. "I can do nothing for + you now, Harry," said she. "I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I + have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain + it for your children." The unhappy father swore that nobody should take + his children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but + they were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two + oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service + to her master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were + carried to their master's plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and + when the slaveholder's wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She + knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully + inculcated. She had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and + his offspring to his brother. She bore two children to the brother and was + sold again. The next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead + drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before + the birth of the fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered + every kindness to the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. + She passed away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had + been made so wretched by the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve + his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of + drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good + master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and + the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. + Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife + a happier woman. + </p> + <p> + No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption + produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of + licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his + sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his + sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with + presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or + starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious + principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good + mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are + dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be + exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The poor worm + Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day + Shall pass, and she is gone! +</pre> + <p> + The slaveholder's sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the + unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master's daughters + always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs + he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear + their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is + excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young + slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as + should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the + woman slaves are subject to their father's authority in all things; and in + some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have + myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in + shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected + one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first + grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her + father's more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over + whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her + father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending + black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had + given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + </p> + <p> + In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by + any who know its history. But if the white parent is the <i>father</i>, + instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the + market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be + their inevitable destiny. + </p> + <p> + You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was + twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own + experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well + as to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons + violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives + wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to + describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their + degradation. + </p> + <p> + Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin + occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton crops—not + of the blight on their children's souls. + </p> + <p> + If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a + southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be + no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you + impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life. + </h2> + <p> + After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to + have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the + blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for + me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I + was constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a + home of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my + dreaded fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already + had high words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly + what she thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in + the neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of + Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to + build a house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and + expense, I was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; + but I soon heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my + Maker that I would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation + from dawn till dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from + day to day, through such a living death. I was determined that the master, + whom I so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, + and made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, + succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any + thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What <i>could</i> I do? + I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the + abyss. + </p> + <p> + And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would + gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. + It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, + and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to + screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not + so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master + had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy + the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of + my childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that + they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, + concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it + with deliberate calculation. + </p> + <p> + But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, + who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes + are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too + severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the + man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I + should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about + to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to + keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard + to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful + grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I + felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be + frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + </p> + <p> + I have told you that Dr. Flint's persecutions and his wife's jealousy had + given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced + that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the + circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often + spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked + questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great + deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities + to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only + fifteen years old. + </p> + <p> + So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for + human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, + and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have + such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He + was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor + slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was + tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of + interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is + agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation + has left her any pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one's + self, than to submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in + having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by + kindness and attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, + and you dare not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an + unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be + sophistry in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all + principles of morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them + impossible. + </p> + <p> + When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely + cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and + calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere + gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as + to know that I favored another, and it was something to triumph over my + tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by + selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a + man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my + freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came + so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of + children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a + new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them; + especially if they had children. I had seen several women sold, with + babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain + long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I + could ask to have my children well supported; and in this case, I felt + confident I should obtain the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would + be made free. With all these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no + other way of escaping the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong + plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it + is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the + laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the + will of another. You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the + snares, and eluding the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at + the sound of his footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I + know I did wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful + and humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking + back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman ought + not to be judged by the same standard as others. + </p> + <p> + The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over + the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me + from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that + it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most + of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of + her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + </p> + <p> + As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the + thought of telling <i>him</i>. From time to time he told me of his + intended arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the + cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would + never enter it. He said, "I have heard enough of such talk as that. You + shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there." + </p> + <p> + I replied, "I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother." + </p> + <p> + He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a + word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the + truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble + as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how + could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved + that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, "Let the storm + beat! I will brave it till I die." And now, how humiliated I felt! + </p> + <p> + I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words + stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and + began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. + The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for + her children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily + expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a + sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this + well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. + Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me + concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been + previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has + it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. + You are a disgrace to your dead mother." She tore from my fingers my + mother's wedding ring and her silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, + "and never come to my house, again." Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, + that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes + never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from my seat, but fell + back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but the tears were running + down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me like fire. She had always + been so kind to me! <i>So</i> kind! How I longed to throw myself at her + feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had ordered me to go, and never + to come there again. After a few minutes, I mustered strength, and started + to obey her. With what feelings did I now close that little gate, which I + used to open with such an eager hand in my childhood! It closed upon me + with a sound I never heard before. + </p> + <p> + Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked on + recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I + had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on + the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above + me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed + by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over + me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to + die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused + myself, and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had + been a friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke + soothingly to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my + shame if I could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my + heart to her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and + all I had been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. + My friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing + suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came + at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my + life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in + an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I + told her I would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes + of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead + mother's sake. And she did pity me. She did not say, "I forgive you;" but + she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old + hand gently on my head, and murmured, "Poor child! Poor child!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. The New Tie To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I returned to my good grandmother's house. She had an interview with Mr. + Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe lamb,—whether + there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about character,—he + made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to + care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made + the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how + I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He + intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could + have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he + have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the + cause of my sin! + </p> + <p> + "Linda," said he, "though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for + you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the + fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, + you shall feel the fires of hell." + </p> + <p> + I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was + gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his + abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had + always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for <i>him</i> I + might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. "I + have sinned against God and myself," I replied; "but not against you." + </p> + <p> + He clinched his teeth, and muttered, "Curse you!" He came towards me, with + ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, "You obstinate girl! I could grind + your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless + rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who + don't care a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. + You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master + was your best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have + punished you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under + the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. + Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your + conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here + for the present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. + After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and + who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; + that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have + explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most + shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. "I + command you," said he, "to tell me whether the father of your child is + white or black." I hesitated. "Answer me this instant!" he exclaimed. I + did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he + would have broken it. "Do you love him?" said he, in a hissing tone. + </p> + <p> + "I am thankful that I do not despise him," I replied. + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don't know what + arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he + spoke. "I came here," said he, "to make you a friendly proposition; but + your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good + intentions towards you. I don't know what it is that keeps me from killing + you." Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + </p> + <p> + But he resumed. "On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. + You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of + your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from + him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this + at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act + of mercy I shall show towards you." + </p> + <p> + I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man + who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to + my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last + time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + </p> + <p> + "Very well," said he; "then take the consequences of your wayward course. + Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. + I will never sell you, that you may depend upon." + </p> + <p> + Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had + calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew + the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + </p> + <p> + About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The + day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. + My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray + it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My + heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives + that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us + know what a year may bring forth. + </p> + <p> + I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, + though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last + consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had + done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! + The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—"Perhaps your mother + and father are taken from the evil days to come." My disappointed heart + could now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives + ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate + of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had + experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I + should escape? + </p> + <p> + My uncle's stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in + mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was + unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I + would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, + they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered + the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He + had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four + pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive + till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, + unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to + leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was + scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was + sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued + his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that + my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + </p> + <p> + I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in + silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not + remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the + medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and + of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, + cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my + brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not + seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I + dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but + I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William + with a note. The color mounted to my brother's face when he gave it to me; + and he said, "Don't you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?" I + told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his + master's will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He + demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He + flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon + his usual themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his + forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I + felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such + language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless + to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. + The manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do + nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so + early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity + to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a + trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly + incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there, to + reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence + of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his + office work; but every thing went wrong without William. He was released, + and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not + careful about his future behavior. + </p> + <p> + As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year + old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my + existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and + pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I + loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over + my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished + that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. + The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold + that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, + but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was + heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her + dying child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought + that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated + him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that + he should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had + bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a + new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the + serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + </h2> + <p> + Not far from this time Nat Turner's insurrection broke out; and the news + threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, + when their slaves were so "contented and happy"! But so it was. + </p> + <p> + It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion + every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called + country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their + places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without + hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were + told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. + Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed + of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. + Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. + All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + </p> + <p> + By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles + of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it + would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing + annoyed them so much as to see colored people living in comfort and + respectability; so I made arrangements for them with especial care. I + arranged every thing in my grandmother's house as neatly as possible. I + put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with + flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at the window to watch. Far as + my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and + fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies + of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild + scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found. + </p> + <p> + It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their + own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief + authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting + that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves + in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed + such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on + innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the + slightest ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in + remote parts of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the + searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent + other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were + plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped + till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred + lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking + paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored + people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white + person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else + the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling + wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the + helpless. At night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went + wherever they chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal + will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their + way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were + tied up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies + about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had + the slightest tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking + together. + </p> + <p> + I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in + the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive + the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp + of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in + they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing + within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a + thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver + change was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from + them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, "What d'ye foller us + fur? D'ye s'pose white folks is come to steal?" + </p> + <p> + I replied, "You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I + will take it, if you please." + </p> + <p> + At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I + called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till + the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house + brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the + outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This + officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the + account of neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He + felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, + if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant + followers, who were unable to read. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that + was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, + "Where'd the damned niggers git all dis sheet an' table clarf?" + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector said, + "You may be sure we didn't pilfer 'em from <i>your</i> houses." + </p> + <p> + "Look here, mammy," said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, "you seem + to feel mighty gran' 'cause you got all them 'ere fixens. White folks + oughter have 'em all." + </p> + <p> + His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, "We's got + 'em! We's got 'em! Dis 'ere yaller gal's got letters!" + </p> + <p> + There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, + proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my + things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their + contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. + I told him it was one of my friends. "Can you read them?" he asked. When I + told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. + "Bring me all your letters!" said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had + none. "Don't be afraid," he continued, in an insinuating way. "Bring them + all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm." Seeing I did not move to obey + him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. "Who writes to you? + half free niggers?" inquired he. I replied, "O, no; most of my letters are + from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and + some I destroy without reading." + </p> + <p> + An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our + conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet + had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving + fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; + consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained + these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was + helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, + "Wal done! Don't wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when + dey live on 'sarves" [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take + the jar, saying, "You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats." + </p> + <p> + "And what <i>were</i> we sent for?" said the captain, bristling up to me. + I evaded the question. + </p> + <p> + The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. + They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, + with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a + short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of + the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the + house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its + inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very + fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by + drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually + rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window + curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white + man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not + stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored + minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his + wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to + shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized + country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the + administrators of justice! + </p> + <p> + The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the + innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by + keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white + citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless + rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, + drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + </p> + <p> + The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people + that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed + with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw + horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled + by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail + yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with + brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not + fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the + conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even + heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a + story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + </p> + <p> + The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was + substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or + free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture + of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their + masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. + Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the + privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their + burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had + no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour + out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the + church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a + certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, + when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction + had been pronounced, the minister said, "Come down, now, my colored + friends." They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in + commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, "God is your Father, + and all ye are brethren." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + </h2> + <p> + After the alarm caused by Nat Turner's insurrection had subsided, the + slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the + slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their + masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on + Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also + very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight with him. + The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The + Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their + carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. + It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free + colored man, who was a member. + </p> + <p> + I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, + trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by + daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to + encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his + office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. + When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The + reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all + present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the + portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + </p> + <p> + His text was, "Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters + according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your + heart, as unto Christ." + </p> + <p> + Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, + solemn tones, began: "Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my + words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner + of evil. 'Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will + surely punish you, if you don't forsake your wicked ways. You that live in + town are eyeservants behind your master's back. Instead of serving your + masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly + Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. + God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden + away somewhere, feasting on your master's substance; tossing + coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with + another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, but God sees you, and + will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! When your master's work + is done, are you quietly together, thinking of the goodness of God to such + sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of + roots to bury under the doorsteps to poison each other with. God sees you. + You men steal away to every grog shop to sell your master's corn, that you + may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or + among the bushes, to pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you + out, God sees you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful + ways, and be faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your + old mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, + you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God's commandments. When + you go from here, don't stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go + directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have come." + </p> + <p> + The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother + Pike's gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the + next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last + discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found + it very inconvenient to meet at the friend's house, and he should be glad + to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for + the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that + the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since + its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but + pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from + his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist + shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious + meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than + sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded + Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + </p> + <p> + The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not + trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following + verses: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Old Satan is one busy ole man; + He rolls dem blocks all in my way; + But Jesus is my bosom friend; + He rolls dem blocks away. + + If I had died when I was young, + Den how my stam'ring tongue would have sung; + But I am ole, and now I stand + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land. +</pre> + <p> + I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I + went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved + mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the + town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his + brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or + out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for + fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and + said to the stricken woman, "Sister, can't you tell us how the Lord deals + with your soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?" + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, "My Lord and Master, + help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and + I am left in darkness and misery." Then, striking her breast, she + continued, "I can't tell you what is in here! They've got all my children. + Last week they took the last one. God only knows where they've sold her. + They let me have her sixteen years, and then—O! O! Pray for her + brothers and sisters! I've got nothing to live for now. God make my time + short!" + </p> + <p> + She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader + become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his + handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman's calamity + might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the + bereaved mother, "Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his + divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!" + </p> + <p> + The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as + the birds that warbled round us,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; + He missed my soul, and caught my sins. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + He took my sins upon his back; + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + Ole Satan's church is here below. + Up to God's free church I hope to go. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! +</pre> + <p> + Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at + such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing + and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, + under constant dread of the lash? + </p> + <p> + The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had + been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was + large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different + clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored + people, who said, "God has sent us a good man this time." They loved him, + and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the + slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. + His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her and + themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to the + needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty of having + a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their + comprehension. After much argument and importunity, it was finally agreed + that they might occupy the gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many + colored people, hitherto unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to + hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood + them. Moreover, it was the first time they had ever been addressed as + human beings. It was not long before his white parishioners began to be + dissatisfied. He was accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes + than he did to them. He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains + upon those sermons than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in + such ignorance that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their + comprehension. Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should + preach to them in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the + midst of these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her + slaves gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, "I have + tried to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it + has not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but + prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. May + we meet in a better world." Her liberated slaves were sent away, with + funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless + the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death her husband + preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at his departure. + </p> + <p> + Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former + congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. "My + friends," said he, "it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity + of speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do + something for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet + accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live + according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; + but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color of their skins." This + was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to + slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made fools of their slaves, + and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + </p> + <p> + I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were + beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist + church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he + should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He + came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for + he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it + came. I asked him if he didn't know it was contrary to law; and that + slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This + brought the tears into his eyes. "Don't be troubled, uncle Fred," said I. + "I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, + that you might know the danger, and be on your guard." He thought he could + plan to come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a + quiet nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught + him his A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As + soon as he could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in + the Bible. The happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my + heart. After spelling out a few words, he paused, and said, "Honey, it + 'pears when I can read dis good book I shall be nearer to God. White man + is got all de sense. He can larn easy. It ain't easy for ole black man + like me. I only wants to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I + hab no fear 'bout dying." + </p> + <p> + I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. + "Hab patience, child," he replied. "I larns slow." + </p> + <p> + I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness imparted, were + more than a recompense for all my trouble. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could + find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, + "Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?" + </p> + <p> + "Lord bress you, chile," he replied. "You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I + don't pray to God to help me to understan' what I spells and what I reads. + And he <i>does</i> help me, chile. Bress his holy name!" + </p> + <p> + There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the + water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They + send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am + glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask + them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American + slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell <i>them</i> it was + wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own + children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that all + men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light of + knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for + sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + </p> + <p> + There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; + but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would + be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been + before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. + Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to + them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the + prison and the scourge. + </p> + <p> + Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are + the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the + poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so <i>easily</i> + blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has + usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The + slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes + himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred + topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table + loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees + the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of + favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with those + slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, "O, no, + massa." This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a + "South Side View of Slavery," and to complain of the exaggerations of + abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, and seen + slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful "patriarchal institution;" + that the slaves don't want their freedom; that they have hallelujah + meetings and other religious privileges. + </p> + <p> + What does <i>he</i> know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn + till dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, + torn from their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into + moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained + to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The + slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell + of them if he had asked them. + </p> + <p> + There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the + south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the + treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is + called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the + church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it + does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much + surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the + character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after + he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had + been confirmed, certainly gave <i>me</i> no indication that he had + "renounced the devil and all his works." In answer to some of his usual + talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. "Yes, Linda," + said he. "It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my + position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned + slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda." + </p> + <p> + "There are sinners enough in it already," rejoined I. "If I could be + allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad." + </p> + <p> + "You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as + virtuous as my wife," he replied. + </p> + <p> + I answered that the Bible didn't say so. + </p> + <p> + His voice became hoarse with rage. "How dare you preach to me about your + infernal Bible!" he exclaimed. "What right have you, who are my negro, to + talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn't like? I am your + master, and you shall obey me." + </p> + <p> + No wonder the slaves sing,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ole Satan's church is here below; + Up to God's free church I hope to go. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. Another Link To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I had not returned to my master's house since the birth of my child. The + old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his + wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came + back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a + season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about + his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to + convince me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no + need of descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious + babe was the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent + contempt when he talked about my having forfeited <i>his</i> good opinion; + but I shed bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by + the good and pure. Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. + There was no chance for me to be respectable. There was no prospect of + being able to lead a better life. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he + called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. "Perhaps that + will humble you," said he. + </p> + <p> + Humble <i>me</i>! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated + my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders + have been cunning enough to enact that "the child shall follow the + condition of the <i>mother</i>," not of the <i>father</i>, thus taking + care that licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection + made me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid + visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall + into the slave trader's hands. I wept over him, and said, "O my child! + perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw you + into a hole, as if you were a dog." + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated + beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of + shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of + arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and + swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. + Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and + the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in + bed for many days. He then said, "Linda, I swear by God I will never raise + my hand against you again;" but I knew that he would forget his promise. + </p> + <p> + After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the + pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can + describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too + revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother's knowledge as much as + I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my + troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and + heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man's tongue, she could + not always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should + try to defend me; but it only made matters worse. + </p> + <p> + When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than + it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more + terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, <i>they</i> + have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this + new crime against <i>him</i>, as he called it; and as long as he had me in + his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, + he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to + him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare + some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took + up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. "Now stand there," said + he, "till I tell you to go back!" My child bore a strong resemblance to + her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed + this; and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped + upon me and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the + grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his + vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He + took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my + face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness + before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he + hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but + I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There + was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I + was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to + life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived + only nineteen years. + </p> + <p> + Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. + Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I + dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted + at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we + resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away + from us. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having + the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not + venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a + patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. "Now is + the time," said my grandmother; "we will take the children to church, and + have them christened." + </p> + <p> + When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I + felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without + any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal + rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to + <i>her</i>, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, + to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren were + presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother's? + <i>Her</i> master had died when she was a child; and she remained with her + mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master; and + thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + </p> + <p> + When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father + stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I + added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for + my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled + skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified + me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + </p> + <p> + When we left the church, my father's old mistress invited me to go home + with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby's neck. I thanked her for + this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be + fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly + I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whose + iron entereth into the soul! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. Continued Persecutions. + </h2> + <p> + My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an + exulting smile. "These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of + these days." + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into + his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them + given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children + could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. + Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my + friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to + leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with + nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. + "Sir," said he, "she don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, + and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her + paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; + neither can he buy her children." + </p> + <p> + The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he + entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He + seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had + learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide + her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now + nearly five years old, often inquired, "What makes that bad man come here + so many times? Does he want to hurt us?" I would clasp the dear boy in my + arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the + problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child + left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. + "So you are left in disgust, are you?" said he. "It is no more than I + expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. + So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don't like to hear + about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!" There was a sting in his calling me + virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had + formerly done. He continued: "So it seems you are trying to get up another + intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you + may be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine + for life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I + would have done it; but you rejected my kind offer." + </p> + <p> + I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen + the man who offered to buy me. + </p> + <p> + "Do you tell me I lie?" exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. "Will you + say again that you never saw that man?" + </p> + <p> + I answered, "I do say so." + </p> + <p> + He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told + him to go to his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you stir a step, you little wretch!" said he. The child drew nearer + to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was + too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the + room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + </p> + <p> + "Not yet!" exclaimed the doctor. "Let him lie there till he comes to." + </p> + <p> + "Let me go! Let me go!" I screamed, "or I will raise the whole house." I + struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the + door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I + turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so + pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don't know + whether I was very happy. All the doctor's former persecutions were + renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a + rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with + whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother + was out of the way he searched every room to find him. + </p> + <p> + In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold + to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her + because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter + life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near + ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. A few friends + had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to + spend with them the time that intervened between her sale and the + gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved + the trader the expense of board and jail fees, and though the amount was + small, it was a weighty consideration in a slavetrader's mind. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. + He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she + took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His + gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. + "How came this girl here?" he exclaimed. "What right had you to allow it, + when you knew I had sold her?" + </p> + <p> + I answered, "This is my grandmother's house, and Rose came to see her. I + have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest + purposes." + </p> + <p> + He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been + his slave. My grandmother's attention had been attracted by loud voices, + and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to + let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook + to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher + and higher, and finally boiled over in words. "Get out of my house!" she + exclaimed. "Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will + have enough to do, without watching my family." + </p> + <p> + He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of + sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by + compulsion of his wife; that he needn't accuse her, for he was the one to + blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and + more excited as she went on. "I tell you what, Dr. Flint," said she, "you + ain't got many more years to live, and you'd better be saying your + prayers. It will take 'em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your + soul." + </p> + <p> + "Do you know whom you are talking to?" he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She replied, "Yes, I know very well who I am talking to." + </p> + <p> + He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes + met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and + weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen + her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, + always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace + and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon + Slavery. + </p> + <p> + The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; + and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive + also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was + dreaming of freedom again; more for my children's sake than my own. I + planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of + overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + </p> + <p> + Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had + invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great + consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my + grandmother's, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I + was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend's house. + They sent me a dark wrapper, I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did + not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but + I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the + doctor came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did + not believe me, and sent to my friend's house to ascertain the facts. He + came in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the + truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were + coming. "I suppose you need some recreation," said he, "but I am surprised + at your being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for <i>you</i>. + Are you <i>allowed</i> to visit such people?" + </p> + <p> + I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; + but I merely replied, "I went to visit my friends, and any company they + keep is good enough for me." + </p> + <p> + He went on to say, "I have seen very little of you of late, but my + interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on + you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself + and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to + what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no + communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a + cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be + light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda—a + home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you + at times, your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from + my own children, and I consider you as yet a child." + </p> + <p> + He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. "Why don't you speak?" + said he. "What more do you wait for?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Then you accept my offer?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and + replied, "You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there + are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will + be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you + and your children shall be sent to your young master's plantation, there + to remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall + fare like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider + it." + </p> + <p> + He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready + to give my answer now. + </p> + <p> + "I will not receive it now," he replied. "You act too much from impulse. + Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you + choose." + </p> + <p> + On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my + master's offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be + impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he + gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. + The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But + then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect + was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare + me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, + and my weakness would be his triumph. + </p> + <p> + Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be + married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy + in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for + punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very + soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and + save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to + myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I + would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + </p> + <p> + On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise + choice. + </p> + <p> + "I am ready to go to the plantation, sir," I replied. + </p> + <p> + "Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?" said + he. + </p> + <p> + I told him I had. + </p> + <p> + "Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you," he replied. + "Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl + shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!" He + left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, "Linda, + child, what did you tell him?" + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was going to the plantation. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Must</i> you go?" said she. "Can't something be done to stop it?" + </p> + <p> + I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She + said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how + faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own + baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been + out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them + for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more strength for + the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in + saying, "He will listen to <i>me</i>, Linda." She went, and was treated as + I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied her request. + He told her that what he did was for my good, that my feelings were + entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I would receive + treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight + my battle alone. I had a woman's pride, and a mother's love for my + children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter + dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had + a determined will. There is might in each. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning I left my grandmother's with my youngest child. My + boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old + wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to + be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the + time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what + purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far + as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short + as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow + him up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left + below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so + carefully tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the + yard. This was kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My + task was to fit up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst + of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as + busy planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed + to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to + a neighbor, "I've got her down here, and I'll soon take the town notions + out of her head. My father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought + to have broke her in long ago." The remark was made within my hearing, and + it would have been quite as manly to have made it to my face. He <i>had</i> + said things to my face which might, or might not, have surprised his + neighbor if he had known of them. He was "a chip of the old block." + </p> + <p> + I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, + so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness + before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it + would be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily + saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed + by the lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much + more must I suffer, before I should be "broke in" to that degree? + </p> + <p> + I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an + opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections + that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my + lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a + suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. + Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and + in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where + I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother's heart bleed. I + was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked + out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in + search of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I + looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and + drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for + her if she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled + to hear some one say, "Did you speak to me?" I looked up, and saw Mr. + Flint standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, + away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This + generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he + had killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed + that incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put + Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to + have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required + attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware + that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + </p> + <p> + I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It + must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, + and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, + often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we + started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing + the journey. I arrived at my grandmother's. Her bed room was on the first + floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and + she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by + should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round + me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and + thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. + As I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, "Mother + is here." After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and + he sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that + it was I, he exclaimed, "O mother! you ain't dad, are you? They didn't cut + off your head at the plantation, did they?" + </p> + <p> + My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny + back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. + Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we + were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse's + hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large + tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a + recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with + them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we + heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We + were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to their labor. I + divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing that he had lost + the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day in the field. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was + idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew + nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented + himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the + necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, + and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to + consent to that arrangement. + </p> + <p> + When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. + Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty + dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she + stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we + all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such + occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups + and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot + muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two + cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny's delight. She invariably + declared that it was the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times + together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old + times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be + taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled + with grandmother's best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Dr. Flint's wife came to take tea with us, and + when her children were also sent to have a feast of "Aunt Marthy's" nice + cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was + angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She + would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother's + feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had + nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor's wife would gladly have + prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but + fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had + enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from + charity, however lavish it may be. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to + see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the + house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had + many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see + how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She + inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. + She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and + all my grandmother's family were at rest in our graves, for not until then + should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I + was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my + children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the + town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for + myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity + could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved + abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp + upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my + helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the + boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have + taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, + every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and + gave me fresh courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled + over me in a seemingly endless night of storms. + </p> + <p> + The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint's bride was expected + to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, + and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, + and return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various + orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It + was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever + asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than one + night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday + would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A + calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a + day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever + spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last + talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! + Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, + better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom + that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from + it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my + poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. "There the wicked cease + from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest + together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free + from his master." I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as + I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or + to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother's blessing when she died; + and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, + sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded + heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone + from my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as + I remembered my mother. + </p> + <p> + The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke + the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My + spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years + I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as + now. A black stump, at the head of my mother's grave, was all that + remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small + wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly + obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to + God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about to take. As + I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner's + time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my + father's voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached + freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. My trust in God + had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + </p> + <p> + My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a + few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get + discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently + finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I + knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children + comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was + packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I + was doing. "I am putting my things in order," I replied. I tried to look + and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the + surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked + earnestly at me, and said, "Linda, do you want to kill your old + grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old + now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you." + </p> + <p> + I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to + secure their freedom. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, my child," said she, "don't trust too much to him. Stand by your own + children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who + forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy + moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to + live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be + dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a + little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect." + </p> + <p> + My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that + faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I + would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, + she would say, "Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She + don't love you as I do." And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to + reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I + loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was + the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + </p> + <p> + On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with + preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful + day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor + creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, + and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no such hopes + for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their + authority and importance would be best established and maintained by + cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to + expect that her rule over them would be less severe than that of the + master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the most cheerful and + forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their masters sleep in + safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon + their sufferings with less pity than they would bestow on those of a horse + or a dog. + </p> + <p> + I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She + was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion + at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy + future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds + would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and + told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid + old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to + please her. + </p> + <p> + All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind + the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my + life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who + would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not + made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting + the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I + had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, + considered my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing + could please her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was + just where she would have me—in the power of a hard, unprincipled + master. She did not speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her + satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent + than words. The old doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He + ordered me here and there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said + "your <i>mistress</i>." I was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all + was over, and the last key turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God + had appointed a season of rest for the weary. + </p> + <p> + The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly + appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday + evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received + their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and + perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound + and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. + Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The + meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on + planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the + building, and when the first foreman called out, "Who takes this piece of + meat?" he answered by calling somebody's name. This method was resorted to + as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young + mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she + soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their + allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family + through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the + mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were + too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered + much before he found rest in the grave. + </p> + <p> + My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old + Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her + daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the + conference. The old doctor's wife had been informed that I could leave the + plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. + If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have + had no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage + to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, "Don't neglect to send for + them as quick as possible." My heart was on the watch all the time, and I + at once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next + day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, + "Don't wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow." I saw through the plan. + They thought my children's being there would fetter me to the spot, and + that it was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our + lot as slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always + manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. + Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor + performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half + famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, + and the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was + ordered to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, "Linda, + how do you like your new home?" I told him I liked it as well as I + expected. He replied, "They don't think you are contented, and to-morrow + they are going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, + Linda. I hope they will treat you kindly." I hurried from the room, unable + to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought + to the plantation to be "broke in." + </p> + <p> + To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely + information. It nerved me to immediate action. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. The Flight. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he + had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of + course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave + them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of + the servants' quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I + mustn't bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on + her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a + thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. I + therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as + I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in + their power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to + leave them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon + my dear old grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children + would have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening + work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to + inquire why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my + work. "You have had time enough to do it," said he. "Take care how you + answer me!" + </p> + <p> + I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third + story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how + fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost + need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I + failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made + to suffer for my fault. + </p> + <p> + At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second + floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and + looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see + nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of + rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, + and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped + my way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning + speed. I arrived at my grandmother's house, but dared not see her. She + would say, "Linda, you are killing me;" and I knew that would unnerve me. + I tapped softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had + lived in the house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and + could be trusted with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard + me. At last she raised the window, and I whispered, "Sally, I have run + away. Let me in, quick." She opened the door softly, and said in low + tones, "For God's sake, don't. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and + de chillern. Mr. Sands was here last week. He tole her he was going away + on business, but he wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de + chillern, and he would help her all he could. Don't run away, Linda. Your + grandmother is all bowed down wid trouble now." + </p> + <p> + I replied, "Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation + to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have + me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?" + </p> + <p> + "No, chile, no," answered she. "When dey finds you is gone, dey won't want + de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery + inch ob dis house." + </p> + <p> + I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to + know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all + my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint + and the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the + sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not + go into the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed + where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and + motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to + them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I + knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, + and turned away. + </p> + <p> + As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my + shoulder, and said, "Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your + uncle." + </p> + <p> + "No, Sally," I replied, "I want no one to be brought into trouble on my + account." + </p> + <p> + I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house + of the friend who was to conceal me. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother's inquiring for me. + She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He + watched her face narrowly, and said, "Don't you know any thing about her + running off?" She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, "Last + night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very + kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are + her children with you?" When told that they were, he said, "I am very glad + to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that + any of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I'll + give 'em five hundred lashes." As he started to go to his father's, he + turned round and added, persuasively, "Let her be brought back, and she + shall have her children to live with her." + </p> + <p> + The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a + busy day for them. My grandmother's house was searched from top to bottom. + As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. + Before ten o'clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, + and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night + a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would + be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one + who went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he + would take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of + course she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before + night, the following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in + every public place for miles round:— + </p> + <p> + $300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto + girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, + and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a + decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all + probability will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, + under penalty of law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given + to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and + delivered to me, or lodged in jail. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + </h2> + <p> + The search for me was kept up with more perseverence than I had + anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great + anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the + consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even + that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness + to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into + such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my + hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket + of bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a + reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which + loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so + dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and + slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was + compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into + the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my + look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and + vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The + application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread + of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend + asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the + bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in + vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part.<a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ The poison of a snake is a + powerful acid, and is counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, + ammonia, &c. The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge + the limb into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in + snaky places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.] + </p> + <p> + I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. + They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to + escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and + let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. + When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come + what would, there should be no turning back. "Give me liberty, or give me + death," was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my + relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they + said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and + that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in his + mercy raised up "a friend in need." + </p> + <p> + Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had + known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had + also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At + this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not + unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her + face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My + grandmother shook her head, without answering. "Come, Aunt Martha," said + the kind lady, "tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something to help + you." The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and sold + slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated them + kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was unlike the + majority of slaveholders' wives. My grandmother looked earnestly at her. + Something in the expression of her face said "Trust me!" and she did trust + her. She listened attentively to the details of my story, and sat thinking + for a while. At last she said, "Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think + there is any chance of Linda's getting to the Free States, I will conceal + her for a time. But first you must solemnly promise that my name shall + never be mentioned. If such a thing should become known, it would ruin me + and my family. No one in my house must know of it, except the cook. She is + so faithful that I would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes + Linda. It is a great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word + to Linda to be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I + will send the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda." + The place where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My + grandmother was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by + her emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + </p> + <p> + I received a message to leave my friend's house at such an hour, and go to + a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of + prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was + to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, + but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I + disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the + appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I + expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so + intense that it seemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We + reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first words were: "Honey, + now you is safe. Dem devils ain't coming to search <i>dis</i> house. When + I get you into missis' safe place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I + specs you need it after all dis skeering." Betty's vocation led her to + think eating the most important thing in life. She did not realize that my + heart was too full for me to care much about supper. + </p> + <p> + The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over + her own sleeping apartment. "You will be safe here, Linda," said she; "I + keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not + accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless + they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care + of the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; + and you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I + will keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to + bring your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till + night. I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this + state of things will not last long." Betty came with the "nice hot + supper," and the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight + till she returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in + my throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that + deed of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + </p> + <p> + I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the + most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with + light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my + window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie + perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. + Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of + satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed + over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly + compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed + against the strength of their tyrants. + </p> + <p> + I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew + who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for + revenge than he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who + had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who + was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of + compelling my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my + grandmother should never see one of them again till I was brought back. + They kept these facts from me for several days. When I heard that my + little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. + I was encountering dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the + cause of their death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to + soothe me by telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children + while they remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the + good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister's orphan + children, should be shut up in prison for no other crime than loving them. + I suppose my friends feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as + they did, that my life was bound up in my children. I received a note from + my brother William. It was scarcely legible, and ran thus: "Wherever you + are, dear sister, I beg of you not to come here. We are all much better + off than you are. If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you + to tell where you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of + your friends; if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for + the sake of those you would ruin." + </p> + <p> + Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice + and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, + because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being + her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and + eat it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he + could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me + tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold + them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she + repeated their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my + tears would flow. Old Betty would exclaim, "Lors, chile! what's you crying + 'bout? Dem young uns vil kill you dead. Don't be so chick'n hearted! If + you does, you vil nebber git thro' dis world." + </p> + <p> + Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had + little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their + soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; + she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that + even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my + feelings? Betty's husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had + denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with + the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. + Flint's. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, + and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home + to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and + his wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen + cried all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are + true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed + Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, "Here, + Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can't stand her noise. If she + would be quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a + handy waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with + her white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope + the doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for + their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running + away. She hasn't so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its + calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of + jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! + When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, + and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What + do you stand there for, Bill? Why don't you go off with the brat? Mind, + now, that you don't let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!" + </p> + <p> + When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint's saying + that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself + there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as + one of God's special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried + back to jail. + </p> + <p> + That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till + near morning. Passing my grandmother's, he saw a light in the house, and + thought to himself, "Perhaps this has something to do with Linda." He + knocked, and the door was opened. "What calls you up so early?" said he. + "I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I + have found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I + shall have her before twelve o'clock." When he had turned away, my + grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know + whether or not it was merely one of the doctor's tricks to frighten them. + In their uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed + to my friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to + dispose of me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress + quickly. We hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. + She locked the door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin + and a bit of carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over + me. "Stay dar," said she, "till I sees if dey know 'bout you. Dey say dey + vil put thar hans on you afore twelve o'clock. If dey <i>did</i> know whar + you are, dey won't know <i>now</i>. Dey'll be disapinted dis time. Dat's + all I got to say. If dey comes rummagin 'mong <i>my</i> tings, de'll get + one bressed sarssin from dis 'ere nigger." In my shallow bed I had but + just room enough to bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my + eyes; for Betty walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the + dresser to the fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing + anathemas over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, + with a chuckling laugh, "Dis nigger's too cute for 'em dis time." When the + housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might + hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my + being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they would answer, + that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; that I was in + Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were abed and asleep, + Betty raised the plank, and said, "Come out, chile; come out. Dey don't + know nottin 'bout you. Twas only white folks' lies, to skeer de niggers." + </p> + <p> + Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very + still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my + mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing + to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my + discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that + chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too + dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the + house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in + terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the + constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I + did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It + seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and + that was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I + heard approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced + myself against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and + there stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, + and sunk down upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + "I thought you would hear your master's voice," she said; "and knowing you + would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may + even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman's expense. He is so sure you + are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in + pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has + obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the + present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket + hunting after the bird he has left behind." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. The Children Sold. + </h2> + <p> + The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his + purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. + My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also + was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on + his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine + hundred dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two + children. These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the + offer was rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor + would have sold any boy of Benny's age for two hundred dollars; but he + could not bear to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed + for money, and he revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he + could keep Ellen till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; + but I presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At + all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the + slave-trader's offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would + leave town. "To-day, at ten o'clock," he replied. "Ah, do you go so soon?" + said the doctor. "I have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have + concluded to let you have the three negroes if you will say nineteen + hundred dollars." After some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He + wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great + deal to attend to during the short time he remained in town. The doctor + went to the jail and told William he would take him back into his service + if he would promise to behave himself but he replied that he would rather + be sold. "And you <i>shall</i> be sold, you ungrateful rascal!" exclaimed + the doctor. In less than an hour the money was paid, the papers were + signed, sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children were in the + hands of the trader. + </p> + <p> + It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor's + characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, + "Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not + to sell any of those negroes in this state." "You come too late," replied + the trader; "our bargain is closed." He had, in fact, already sold them to + Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons + on "that rascal, Bill," and to pass through the back streets when he took + his gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to + his wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, + supposing them to be the speculator's property, and that she should never + see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, "Aunt Nancy, I want + to show you something." He led her to the door and showed her a long row + of marks, saying, "Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for + every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and + the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He's a bad man. It's + wrong for him to take grandmother's children. I want to go to my mother." + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but + she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. + Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When + she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children + in the trader's cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was + afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and + was carried home. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and + proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without + stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that + drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not + where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look + upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and + cries of despair. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and + Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going + "as far as wind and water would carry them." According to agreement, my + uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. + There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, + "You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them + gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I + must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, + and call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he'll + never git their mammy back again. I expect she's made tracks for the + north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must + thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That's + going to be my last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a + fellow that's got any heart. Move on, you fellows!" And the gang went on, + God alone knows where. + </p> + <p> + Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as + the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that + he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, + and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was + willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint's power, even without + charging the customary fee. + </p> + <p> + My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to + town. Great was the joy in my grandmother's house! The curtains were + closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little + ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their + hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt + prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and + though such a "parental relation" as existed between him and my children + takes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be + that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness + he had imparted. + </p> + <p> + I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day + had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that + happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the + superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the + window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without being + seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there + thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of + serenaders were under the window, playing "Home, sweet home." I listened + till the sounds did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. + It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and + knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst + of it appeared the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen + them distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not + how to account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I + felt certain something had happened to my little ones. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the + key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know + whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen + their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. + "Lor, chile," said she, putting her arms round me, "you's got de + high-sterics. I'll sleep wid you to-night, 'cause you'll make a noise, and + ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done + cryin, I'll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed + 'em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear + you." I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no + sleep would come to my eyelids. + </p> + <p> + At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the + vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a + while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I + recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, "Did you know Linda + Brent's children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa + Flint was mighty glad to see 'em drove out of town; but they say they've + come back agin. I 'spect it's all their daddy's doings. They say he's + bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I'm + going roun' to aunt Marthy's to see 'bout it." + </p> + <p> + I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my + children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? + The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty <i>never</i> come, and tell me the + truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had + overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. "Lor, you foolish ting!" + said she. "I'se gwine to tell you all 'bout it. De gals is eating thar + breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! + t'aint right to keep you waitin', and I'se gwine to tell you. Brudder, + chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I'se laugh more dan nuff, tinking + 'bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he <i>vill</i> swar! He's got ketched dis + time, any how; but I must be getting out o' dis, or dem gals vill come and + ketch <i>me</i>." + </p> + <p> + Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, "Can it be true that my + children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!" + </p> + <p> + Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had + returned to their grandmother's. The news spread through the town, and + many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint went to my grandmother's to ascertain who was the owner of my + children, and she informed him. "I expected as much," said he. "I am glad + to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. + You need never expect to see <i>her</i> free. She shall be my slave as + long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. + If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running + off I'll kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to + look at me, I'll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out + of my sight!" + </p> + <p> + As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his + own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to + strike her to the ground. + </p> + <p> + I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my + childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old + doctor's threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The + darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery + might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, + my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart + believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better + to trust than to doubt. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. New Perils. + </h2> + <p> + The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on + my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my + flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew + nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I + left my master's plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give + bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. + Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him + he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without + giving bail. + </p> + <p> + The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to + Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the + floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her + culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention + that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle's imprisonment + would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. + Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my + uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way that would be + construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court + his word would not be taken against any white man's. The search for me was + renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They + searched the house I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At + night, when all were asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of + confinement. The fright I had undergone, the constrained posture, and the + dampness of the ground, made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon + after taken out of prison; but the movements of all my relatives, and of + all our friends, were very closely watched. + </p> + <p> + We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already + staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of + perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends + had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my + persecutors made it impossible to carry them into effect. + </p> + <p> + One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my + room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it + was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some + noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend + came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. "I knows who it + was," said she. "Tend upon it, 'twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de + debble in her." I suggested that she might have seen or heard something + that excited her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + "Tut! tut! chile!" exclaimed Betty, "she ain't seen notin', nor hearn + notin'. She only 'spects something. Dat's all. She wants to fine out who + hab cut and make my gownd. But she won't nebber know. Dat's sartin. I'll + git missis to fix her." + </p> + <p> + I reflected a moment, and said, "Betty, I must leave here to-night." + </p> + <p> + "Do as you tink best, poor chile," she replied. "I'se mighty 'fraid dat + 'ere nigger vill pop on you some time." + </p> + <p> + She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep + Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her + he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I + was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any + where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my + situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for + me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took + Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a + kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I + never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling + fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of + sailor's clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a + small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, + she exclaimed, "I'se <i>so</i> glad you is gwine to free parts! Don't + forget ole Betty. P'raps I'll come 'long by and by." + </p> + <p> + I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness. But she + interrupted me. "I don't want no tanks, honey. I'se glad I could help you, + and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I'se gwine wid you to + de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de + sailors." + </p> + <p> + I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young + colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an + apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not + afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked + off. "Take courage, Linda," said my friend Peter. "I've got a dagger, and + no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body." + </p> + <p> + It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh + air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me + above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not + recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter's sake, + as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked + on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy's husband was a seafaring man, + and it had been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me + into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on + board. We three were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to + ask what they proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board + till near dawn, and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle + Phillip had prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been + bound north, it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly + have been searched. About four o'clock, we were again seated in the boat, + and rowed three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased + by the venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding + place. But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the + best that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + </p> + <p> + Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and + briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried + me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered + with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour's time they had so poisoned my + flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw + snake after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of + snakes all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To + this day I shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, + the number of snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to + thrash them with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos + were so high and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very + short distance. Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to + the entrance of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the + boat. It was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low + whistle, which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter + the boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; + for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of + snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when + they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I could + scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous snakes + were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in that community + called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of tobacco to burn, to + keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired effect on them, but gave + me nausea and severe headache. At dark we returned to the vessel. I had + been so sick during the day, that Peter declared I should go home that + night, if the devil himself was on patrol. They told me a place of + concealment had been provided for me at my grandmother's. I could not + imagine how it was possible to hide me in her house, every nook and corner + of which was known to the Flint family. They told me to wait and see. We + were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the streets, to my + grandmother's. I wore my sailor's clothes, and had blackened my face with + charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of my children + came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it + was. + </p> + <p> + "You must make the most of this walk," said my friend Peter, "for you may + not have another very soon." + </p> + <p> + I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me + what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + </h2> + <p> + A small shed had been added to my grandmother's house years ago. Some + boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards + and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats + and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according + to the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet + long and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down + abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light + or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a + concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been + doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a + piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The + air was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. + I could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden + that I could not turn on my other without hitting the roof. The rats and + mice ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the + wretched may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it + only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the + same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not + comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there + was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to + them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, + through which I could peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It + seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day after day, without + one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a + slave, though white people considered it an easy one; and it was so + compared with the fate of others. I was never cruelly overworked; I was + never lacerated with the whip from head to foot; I was never so beaten and + bruised that I could not turn from one side to the other; I never had my + heel-strings cut to prevent my running away; I was never chained to a log + and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning + till night; I was never branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On + the contrary, I had always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, + until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom + till then. But though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of + hardships, God pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + </p> + <p> + My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; + and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such + opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the + opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be + done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, + but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against + something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there + when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could + have been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. + I said to myself, "Now I will have some light. Now I will see my + children." I did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of + attracting attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next + the street, where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet + in and waited for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; + then I bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one + hole about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the + night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I + watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. + Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. + Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of + children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as + though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. + How I longed to <i>tell</i> them I was there! + </p> + <p> + My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by + hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle's point, that pierced + through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother + gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. + The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me + from the scorching summer's sun. But I had my consolations. Through my + peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I + could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear + at Dr. Flint's. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York + to a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and + had breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she + could find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her + reply; but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his + family that he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as + he passed on his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles + of land and water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still + greater satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. + My little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did + from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory + information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at + the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called + out, "Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her." The + doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, "Get out of the + way, you little damned rascal! If you don't, I'll cut off your head." + </p> + <p> + Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, "You can't put me in jail + again. I don't belong to you now." It was well that the wind carried the + words away from the doctor's ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had + our next conference at the trap-door, and begged of her not to allow the + children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become + accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain + position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great + relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold + penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. + The winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; + but the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was + peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bedclothes and + warm drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep + comfortable; but with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were + frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest + upon, and no thoughts to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the + uncertain future! I was thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild + for me to wrap myself up and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. + Southerners have the habit of stopping and talking in the streets, and I + heard many conversations not intended to meet my ears. I heard + slave-hunters planning how to catch some poor fugitive. Several times I + heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and the history of my children, who, + perhaps, were playing near the gate. One would say, "I wouldn't move my + little finger to catch her, as old Flint's property." Another would say, + "I'll catch <i>any</i> nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what + belongs to him, if he <i>is</i> a damned brute." The opinion was often + expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest + that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my + grandmother's house, it would have been burned to the ground. But it was + the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery + existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to + tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them + into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay + handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away + from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, "Dr. Flint, I + don't know where my mother is. I guess she's in New York; and when you go + there again, I wish you'd ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but + if you put her in jail, or tell her you'll cut her head off, I'll tell her + to go right back." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied + myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. + Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are + fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, + Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers + try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and + Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could + not have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the + pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new + suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought + him any thing. "Yes," replied the boy; "but Santa Claus ain't a real man. + It's the children's mothers that put things into the stockings." "No, that + can't be," replied Benny, "for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new + clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time." + </p> + <p> + How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that + many a tear fell on them while she worked! + </p> + <p> + Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. + Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They + consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the + lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over + them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows' tails are + fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, + covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, + while other strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep + time. For a month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on + this occasion. These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the + morning, and are allowed to go round till twelve o'clock, begging for + contributions. Not a door is left unvisited where there is the least + chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of rum. They do not drink while + they are out, but carry the rum home in jugs, to have a carousal. These + Christmas donations frequently amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is + seldom that any white man or child refuses to give them a trifle. If he + does, they regale his ears with the following song:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Poor massa, so dey say; + Down in de heel, so dey say; + Got no money, so dey say; + Not one shillin, so dey say; + God A'mighty bress you, so dey say. +</pre> + <p> + Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. + Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend + them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without + saying, "By your leave, sir." Those who cannot obtain these, cook a + 'possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My + grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale and it was her established + custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests + had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free + colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always + ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white + people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take + them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open + for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs + to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, + the rooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard them + talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored + man had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood + of a slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off + for white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders' feet. How I despised + him! As for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his + office were despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as + he did not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise + money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by + being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise + authority. If he found any slave out after nine o'clock, he could whip him + as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the + guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her + nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw + them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So + passed the first Christmas in my den. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. Still In Prison. + </h2> + <p> + When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture + commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be + condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh + air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the + earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for + a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even + tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop + from the thin roof over my head. + </p> + <p> + During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room + to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so + stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all + my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, + either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I + suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed <i>him</i> to be out + in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the + only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon + me! I don't know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I + should die before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl + through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most + terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the + roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. + Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, + and that was not comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I + could keep out by filling the chinks with oakum. + </p> + <p> + But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of + doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw + a slave pass our gate, muttering, "It's his own, and he can kill it if he + will." My grandmother told me that woman's history. Her mistress had that + day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair + face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her + child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her + master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her + mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold + to a Georgia trader. + </p> + <p> + Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a + slave, the wet nurse of her mistress's children. For some trifling offence + her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the + degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended + her wrongs in death. + </p> + <p> + Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as + these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he + stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery + was "a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the + master, and a blessing to the slave!" + </p> + <p> + I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. + My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I + had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and + tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was + impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother + William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched + tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire + whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to + consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself + leaning against my brother's arm, while he bent over me with streaming + eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an + unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great + danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied + me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at + heart. How to get medical advice was the question. William finally went to + a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and + aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially + charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in + my little den? Charcoal in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet + for the gas, and it nearly cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already + kindled, were brought up in an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so + weak, and it was so long since I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that + those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some + good; but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind + as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, + dismal as it was, and even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for + the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate + Father, who would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other + times, it seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine + government. I asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and + why I had been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things + took the shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as + I trust it will be hereafter. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight and + anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best + friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, + how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I + could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + </p> + <p> + One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my + peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually + kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I + heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed + up. O, what torture to a mother's heart, to listen to this and be unable + to go to him! + </p> + <p> + But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. + Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of + the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day + that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from + his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother's illness became known, many ladies, who were her + customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire + whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked + permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, "I don't + see any need of your going. I can't spare you." But when she found other + ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in + Christian charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, + and stood by the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who + had been repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her + so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She + herself sent for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my + retreat, I should have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He + pronounced my grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her + attending physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have + him coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him + a chance to make out a long bill. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that + a dog had bitten him. "I'm glad of it," replied she. "I wish he had killed + him. It would be good news to send to his mother. <i>Her</i> day will + come. The dogs will grab <i>her</i> yet." With these Christian words she + and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + </p> + <p> + I learned from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and + gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could + now say from my heart, "God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of + feeling that I caused her death." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + </h2> + <p> + The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New + York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he + returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig + candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted + all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of + men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of + rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in + the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to + vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the street without + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event + which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my + children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. + Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not + to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. + Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since + the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I + supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother + concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + </p> + <p> + The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, toward + evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found + myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch + from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles + gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I + could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all + the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, + screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, + and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were + failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, "Wait for me + a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha." When he came out, as he passed the + window, I said, "Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children." He + started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed + the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had + suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then + felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And + had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not + listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy + within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some + one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. "Who called me?" said he, + in a low tone. "I did," I replied. "Oh, Linda," said he, "I knew your + voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do + you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are + mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are all ruined," I did + not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so + I merely said, "I thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and + so I came here to speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. + Many changes may take place during the six months you are gone to + Washington, and it does not seem right for you to expose them to the risk + of such changes. I want nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will + free my children, or authorize some friend to do it, before you go." + </p> + <p> + He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness; to make any + arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + </p> + <p> + I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to + crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for + I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the + house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom + window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over + night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we + should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to + wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + </p> + <p> + I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I + had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength + that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the + floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the + storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. "Linda," she + whispered, "where are you?" + </p> + <p> + "I am here by the window," I replied. "I <i>couldn't</i> have him go away + without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?" + </p> + <p> + "Come, come, child," said she, "it won't do for you to stay here another + minute. You've done wrong; but I can't blame you, poor thing!" I told her + I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle + Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back + to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and + asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I + was left with my own thoughts—starless as the midnight darkness + around me. + </p> + <p> + My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary + of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my + children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was + willing to bear on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my + grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; + and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who + wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that + this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I + resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him + believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated + from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any + trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, + and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would + trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it + was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was + willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York + paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into + his pocket, and said, "Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought + of a pedler yesterday." I told him the letter would be ready the next + evening. He bade me good by, adding, "Keep up your spirits, Linda; + brighter days will come by and by." + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was + over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to + examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for + once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to + render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted + concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my + grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed + man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and + what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I + expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the north, where I + could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a virtuous example; + which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the south. I asked her to + direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, as I did not live in New + York, though I went there sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow + for the time it would take to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the + date to the messenger. When my friend came for the letters, I said, "God + bless and reward you, Peter, for this disinterested kindness. Pray be + careful. If you are detected, both you and I will have to suffer + dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare to do it for me." He + replied, "You may trust to me, Linda. I don't forget that your father was + my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children so long as God lets + me live." + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she + might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might + say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure + mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order + that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint's house. I + whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, "I hope it + will succeed. I shan't mind being a slave all <i>my</i> life, if I can + only see you and the children free." + </p> + <p> + I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office + on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say + that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter + he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring + it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the + next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and + asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I + might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound + of that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before + I heard the gate slam, and the well-known footsteps enter the house. He + seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, "Well, + Martha, I've brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, + also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don't choose to go to Boston + for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a + respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. + With <i>him</i>, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay + his expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her + children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her + freedom, you'll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no + objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you." + </p> + <p> + He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had + suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of + his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle's + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda. +</pre> + <p> + "It is very much as I expected it would be," said the old hypocrite, + rising to go. "You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and + wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip + about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I + should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha." + </p> + <p> + As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. "Ah, + Ellen, is that you?" he said, in his most gracious manner. "I didn't see + you. How do you do?" + </p> + <p> + "Pretty well, sir," she replied. "I heard you tell grandmother that my + mother is coming home. I want to see her." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon," rejoined he; "and + you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger." + </p> + <p> + This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother + was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go + for me. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told + him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be + mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. "All stuff and nonsense, + Phillip!" replied the doctor. "Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row + in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she + wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust <i>you</i>. + The case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with <i>me</i>; + and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not + believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a + row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a + common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but + I forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no + wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she + arrives here." + </p> + <p> + Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor "let + the cat out of the bag," by saying that he had written to the mayor of + Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the + street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date + in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated + from New York, the old man would probably have made another journey to + that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully + excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to + the conclusion that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place + to go in search of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was + passed; before Massachusetts had consented to become a "nigger hunter" for + the south. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in + danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, "What + will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven't been + there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he'll find + out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish + you had never sent the letters." + </p> + <p> + "Don't worry yourself, Grandmother," said I. "The mayor of Boston won't + trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in + the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other." + </p> + <p> + "I hope you will, child," replied the good, patient old friend. "You have + been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will + break your old grandmother's heart. I should be expecting every day to + hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, + poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go 'where + the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.'" My heart + responded, Amen. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me + that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no + suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to + keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, + and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I + resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time + to time. + </p> + <p> + Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, + grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, + sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was + allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and + remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, + except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the + upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the + curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much + better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came + down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o'clock, when people + began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the + piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into + my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a + painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first + mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space + of the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother's Life. + </h2> + <p> + I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had + gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters + from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a + manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to + him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William + wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some + time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had + promised to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would + William trust to a slave's chances? I remembered how we used to talk + together, in our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it + very doubtful whether he would come back to us. + </p> + <p> + Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had + proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; + that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled + through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had + tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they + should be at home shortly. + </p> + <p> + We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, + but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late + in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I + felt almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he + no word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in + her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the + uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God's could see me, I + wept bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my + children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + </p> + <p> + At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had + made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old + hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William's place occupied its + old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. + She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my + prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear + brother's voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by + Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that + the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel + troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few + days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could + never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + </p> + <p> + If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the + messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old + grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I + was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother + had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a + good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had + incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, + who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their + emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father + was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises + made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, + depend upon many contingencies for their fulfillment. + </p> + <p> + Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and + anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it + seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the + children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it + would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as + only children can. Benny said, "Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has + gone for good? Won't he ever come back again? May be he'll find mother. If + he does, <i>won't</i> she be glad to see him! Why don't you and uncle + Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; + wouldn't you, Ellen?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I should like it," replied Ellen; "but how could we find her? Do you + know the place, grandmother? I don't remember how mother looked—do + you, Benny?" + </p> + <p> + Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an + old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had + witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts + unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that + my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, + "What's the matter, aunt Marthy?" + </p> + <p> + "O Aggie," she replied, "it seems as if I shouldn't have any of my + children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I'm dying, and lay + my old body in the ground. My boy didn't come back with Mr. Sands. He + staid at the north." + </p> + <p> + Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. "Is <i>dat</i> what you's crying + fur?" she exclaimed. "Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don't + know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber 'spect to know. You don't know + whar poor Linda's gone to; but you <i>do</i> know whar her brudder is. + He's in free parts; and dat's de right place. Don't murmur at de Lord's + doings but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness." + </p> + <p> + My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the + escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was + only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and + prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my + family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that + Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his + duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be + free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better + not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, "Don't worry + about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur + me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to + give you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live + happy together." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William's leaving + him. He said, "I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him + as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no + idea they could tempt him. However, I don't blame William. He's young and + inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the + scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor + House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. + He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather + shabby, and asked if he didn't need some money. He said, No, thanked me, + and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited + patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our + journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me + where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He + wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my + kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a + free man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive + him. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have + trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, + or send for him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me." + </p> + <p> + I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had + not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could + give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at + his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had + he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he + might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his + freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be + seized by creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in + his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who + had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present + opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from + his master on false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his + passage to Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful + wretch, for thus requiting his master's indulgence. What would <i>they</i> + have done under similar circumstances? + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint's family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they + chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations + of Christian feeling, by saying, "I'm glad of it. I hope he'll never get + him again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon + Linda's children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in + the speculator's hands again, for I'm tired of seeing those little niggers + march about the streets." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the + father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful + devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that + when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn't doubt I had followed him in + disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to + entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to + time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into + Dr. Flint's hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the + conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over + my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + </p> + <p> + A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands + and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a + fancy to him, and exclaimed, "What a pretty little negro! Whom does he + belong to?" + </p> + <p> + Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the + stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, + Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the + children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to + them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The + question seemed a mockery. What <i>could</i> I do? They were Mr. Sands's + slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. + Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any + decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. Mrs. Sands + had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no + children of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to + adopt her, and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to + take Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost + beyond endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for + the sake of having my children free? True, the prospect <i>seemed</i> + fair; but I knew too well how lightly slaveholders held such "parental + relations." If pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required + more money than could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought + of as a convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O + Slavery! Never should I know peace till my children were emancipated with + all due formalities of law. + </p> + <p> + I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I + could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to + remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his + honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, + and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep + the promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals + concerning my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had + promised to emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. + I knew there was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; + but what will not a mother do for her children? He received the message + with surprise, and said, "The children are free. I have never intended to + claim them as slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had + better be sent to the north. I don't think they are quite safe here. Dr. + Flint boasts that they are still in his power. He says they were his + daughter's property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the + contract is not legally binding." + </p> + <p> + So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were + between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was + powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. + Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his + relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that + she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, + as the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, + negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the + transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to + Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with + friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of + it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought + to me, that the bondwoman's child should tend her free-born sister; but + there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it + tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without + a mother's love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without + memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the + natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself + that I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire + that she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my + image with her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to + my dungeon. It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her + mother was a victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place + to which it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in + one of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to + think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them + I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that + I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate + it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the + rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my + purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, + and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and + went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years + since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken + shelter when my mistress drove me from her house; there came my old + tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid + in my arms; there I had watched over them, each day with a deeper and + sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the + wrong I had done. How vividly it all came back! And after this long, + gloomy interval, I stood there such a wreck! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The + door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I + put my arms round her, and said, "Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother." + She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she + laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been + so long desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, + inquiringly, "You really <i>are</i> my mother?" I told her I really was; + that during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most + tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk + with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, + "I'm glad you've come to see me; but why didn't you ever come before? + Benny and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and + sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn't you come home when Dr. Flint + went to bring you?" + </p> + <p> + I answered, "I couldn't come before, dear. But now that I am with you, + tell me whether you like to go away." "I don't know," said she, crying. + "Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, + where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a + letter. But I shan't have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any + body to love me. Can't you go with me? O, <i>do</i> go, dear mother!" + </p> + <p> + I told her I couldn't go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then + she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted + to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the + north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him + before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night + and sleep with her. "O, yes," she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she + said, pleadingly, "<i>May</i> I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own + mother." He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, "Ellen, this is + the secret you have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak + of it to any body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and + your mother can never come to Brooklyn." "Uncle," she replied, "I will + never tell." He told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I + took her in my arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason + she must never say she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to + try to please the people where she was going, and that God would raise her + up friends. I told her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for + her poor mother, and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and + I did not check her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to + pour her tears into a mother's bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, + and I had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose + any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead + softly, and she said, "I am not asleep, dear mother." + </p> + <p> + Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window + curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, + and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when + I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad + for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last + kiss, and whispered in my ear, "Mother, I will never tell." And she never + did. + </p> + <p> + When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone + in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for + Ellen's departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to + her, "Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. <i>Won't</i> + you be glad to see her!" She replied, "Yes, ma'am;" and they little + dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was + an affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she + loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard + the gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can + experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I + feared I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let + her go to Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands's sister. It was my + experience of slavery that decided me against it. I feared that + circumstances might arise that would cause her to be sent back. I felt + confident that I should go to New York myself; and then I should be able + to watch over her, and in some degree protect her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint's family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after + Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on + Mrs. Sands's sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion + very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his + own character, in acknowledging those "young niggers." And as for sending + Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be + for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said + her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children + were her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could + take them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + </p> + <p> + Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now + in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable + for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not + understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, + after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. + Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely + to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his + hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of + things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I + could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + </p> + <p> + Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a + letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother's name, to inquire whether + she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to + her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person + there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child's + friends at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, + are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and + persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how + entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child + dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + </p> + <p> + If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, + curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of + Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote + to request that she would send her children away from the great house + before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman + could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The + existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was + only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance + to him. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. + It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had + just arrived. It contained the following message from her: "I do try to do + just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning." I + understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to + my heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, "Ellen is a nice little + girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has + given her to me, to be my little waiting maid. I shall send her to school, + and I hope some day she will write to you herself." This letter perplexed + and troubled me. Had my child's father merely placed her there till she + was old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a + piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return + to the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away + from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to + us. I said to myself, "Surely there must be <i>some</i> justice in man;" + then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural + feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted + boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of + slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely + out of the reach of its power! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + </h2> + <p> + I have mentioned my great-aunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint's family, and + who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from + him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as + slaves <i>can</i> marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, + and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without + any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they + pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint's + chamber door, that she might be within call. When she was married, she was + told she might have the use of a small room in an outhouse. Her mother and + her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep + there when he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was + ordered to her old post on the entry floor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a + mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could + she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at + her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature + birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on + the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint's babe needed her attentions. She kept + her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature + birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse + to Mrs. Flint's children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of + rest at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint + declared it was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living + child. The fear of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them + to allow her to sleep in her little room in the out-house, except when + there was sickness in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one + of whom died in a few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember + her patient sorrow as she held the last dead baby in her arms. "I wish it + could have lived," she said; "it is not the will of God that any of my + children should live. But I will try to be fit to meet their little + spirits in heaven." + </p> + <p> + Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint's family. Indeed, + she was the <i>factotum</i> of the household. Nothing went on well without + her. She was my mother's twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she + supplied a mother's place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I + lived in my old master's house, and the bond between us was very strong. + When my friends tried to discourage me from running away; she always + encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master's + pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never + to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of + my children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to + leave them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own + life. After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she + could, to bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I + kneel down to listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a + crack! "I am old, and have not long to live," she used to say; "and I + could die happy if I could only see you and the children free. You must + pray to God, Linda, as I do for you, that he will lead you out of this + darkness." I would beg her not to worry herself on my account; that there + was an end of all suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in + chains or in freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who + had been the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; + and not me only. The whole family relied upon her judgement, and were + guided by her advice. I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother + was summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was + very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. + Flint's house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she + thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch by + the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each other; + and now they sat looking into each other's eyes, longing to speak of the + secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My aunt had been + stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the last day she was + speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, she told her mother + not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she would try to hold up + her hand; to let her know that all was well with her. Even the + hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying woman try + to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His eyes + moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful servant, + and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took to her + bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone with the + dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always been a + great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. "Martha," said + he, "aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I hope + you will be kind to him, for her sake." She replied, "Your wife was my + foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you + little know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her + children." + </p> + <p> + "I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it," + said he; "and that Linda would come to supply her aunt's place. She would + be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish + it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she + would be a great comfort to your old age." He knew he was touching a + tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, "It was + not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine + children only one is left. God help me!" + </p> + <p> + To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew + that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped + to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to + hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I + could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip + came into the house, I heard some one inquire, "How is she?" and he + answered, "She is dead." My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew + nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over + me. I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, "Linda, she died + happy." I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. "Don't look <i>so</i>" + he said. "Don't add to my poor mother's trouble. Remember how much she has + to bear, and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her." Ah, yes, that + blessed old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting + storms of a slave-mother's life. She did indeed need consolation! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently + without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health + by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she + became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful + illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if + the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for + the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in + the doctor's family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed + interment in the white people's burying-ground, and the minister knew that + all the deceased of your family reposed together in the old graveyard of + the slaves. He therefore replied, "I have no objection to complying with + your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy's <i>mother</i> may have some choice as + to where her remains shall be deposited." + </p> + <p> + It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. + When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to + lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be + buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it + was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from <i>her</i>. She might + have added with touching pathos, "I was so long <i>used</i> to sleep with + her lying near me, on the entry floor." + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; + and slaveholders are always ready to grant <i>such</i> favors to slaves + and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly + respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint's minister read + the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond + and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our + family. Dr. Flint's carriage was in the procession; and when the body was + deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and + returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty + nobly. + </p> + <p> + It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern + travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute + of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the "patriarchal + institution;" a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and + their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this + impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. <i>We</i> could have told them + a different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and + sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they <i>had</i> any + hearts to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the + poor old slave-mother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred + dollars to buy her son Phillip's right to his own earnings; and how that + same Phillip paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as + doing so much credit to the master. We could also have told them of a + poor, blighted young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to + avoid the tortures that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come + out and look on the face of her departed friend. + </p> + <p> + All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting + for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes + falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + </p> + <p> + It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always + been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But + her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving + deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to + come to the trapdoor, and each place had a different meaning. She now came + oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while + tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to + comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to + help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old + back was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + </h2> + <p> + I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived + in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no + space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to + me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that + long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now + living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + </p> + <p> + Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely + large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, heard the + patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of + runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + </p> + <p> + Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children's faces, and + heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, + "Your mother is here." Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled + away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I + was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know + when these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the + sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + </p> + <p> + After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that + Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; + and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect + them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my + den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out + of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some + one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they + spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been + laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted + attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a + process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs + were greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, + which I sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper + with me at the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense + sympathy for runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted + on those who were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the + sufferings of her bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and + dearest of her flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would + groan out, "O, don't think of it, child. You'll break my heart." I had no + good old aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my + children were continually beckoning me to the north. + </p> + <p> + And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the + first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to + new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might + reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On + the New Year's day preceding my aunt's death, one of my friends, named + Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master's debts. My thoughts + were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what + had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and + her four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped + from her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie + I have spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my + grandmother, and built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling + was searched and watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I + was obliged to keep very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; + and not long afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her + mother's hut. He told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of + it, explaining to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed + the trust. Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her + daughter was concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was + bending under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous + secrets deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + </p> + <p> + My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each + other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my + den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so + much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur + greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily + pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, + or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from + me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for + the North Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an + unexpected way for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and + asked to speak with me. "Your day has come, Linda," said he. "I have found + a chance for you to go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to + decide." The news seemed too good to be true; but Peter explained his + arrangements, and told me all that was necessary was for me to say I would + go. I was going to answer him with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny + came to my mind. I told him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I + was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint's alleged power over my child, and that I + could not go and leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said + such a good chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could + be sent to me; and that for the sake of my children's welfare I ought not + to hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My + uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, if + his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me as + soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought nothing + had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time of departure. + But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I left here so + suddenly. "I will reason with her," said he, "and convince her how + necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You cannot be + blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens." I was not blind + to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present source of anxiety, + and that the older she grew the more nervously fearful she was of + discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally succeeded in persuading + her that it was absolutely necessary for me to seize the chance so + unexpectedly offered. + </p> + <p> + The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak + frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I + made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I + resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give + him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting + for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to + whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon + as I arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She + said she would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the + sake of having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she + could only live to know <i>that</i> she could die in peace. I promised the + dear old faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, + and put the letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I + resolved that not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay + rapacious slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I + had not been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, + common humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, + at the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she + was trembling on the brink of the grave. + </p> + <p> + I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further + particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained + several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder + committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this + unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told + the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the + neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about + runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate + awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and + groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat + contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was + grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + </p> + <p> + When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and + vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long + time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need + not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be + glad enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him + about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his + back upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to + help her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. + She was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were + made for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed + that I had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in + the transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and + stowed away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased + at a price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes + to go to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford + the cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from + slavery, the trembling victim is ready to say, "take all I have, only + don't betray me!" + </p> + <p> + The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark + and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the + vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter + too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the + wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with + fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she + must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how + thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to + come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under + her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a + nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock + the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the + detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then + Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would + be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he + should die such a horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, + and all for his kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be + for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a + sharp pang through my heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak + soothingly to her. She brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear + daughter she had recently buried, and then she lost all control of + herself. As she stood there, trembling and sobbing, a voice from the + piazza called out, "Whar is you, aunt Marthy?" Grandmother was startled, + and in her agitation opened the door, without thinking of me. In stepped + Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I + was concealed in the house of my white benefactress. "I's bin huntin ebery + whar for you, aunt Marthy," said she. "My missis wants you to send her + some crackers." I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened + me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my + heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had + done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers locking the + door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect picture + of despair. "Poor child!" she exclaimed, "my carelessness has ruined you. + The boat ain't gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain't + got another word to say against it now; for there's no telling what may + happen this day." + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that + Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised + getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very + still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house + down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because + suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate + with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him + too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter + had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at + once that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a + stronger woman this time. + </p> + <p> + He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had + shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of + urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with + her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the + captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his + vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, + but the boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on + board. + </p> + <p> + The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak + about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain + replied, "Why, the woman's here already; and I've put her where you or the + devil would have a tough job to find her." + </p> + <p> + "But it is another woman I want to bring," said Peter. "<i>She</i> is in + great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if + you'll stop and take her." + </p> + <p> + "What's her name?" inquired the captain. "Linda," he replied. + </p> + <p> + "That's the name of the woman already here," rejoined the captain. "By + George! I believe you mean to betray me." + </p> + <p> + "O!" exclaimed Peter, "God knows I wouldn't harm a hair of your head. I am + too grateful to you. But there really <i>is</i> another woman in great + danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!" + </p> + <p> + After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any + where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself + Johnson. "Linda is a common name," said Peter, "and the woman I want to + bring is Linda Brent." + </p> + <p> + The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being + handsomely paid for his detention. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if + Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; + and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint's family + till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. + I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of + it, and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to + betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + </p> + <p> + I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The + intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him + for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every + day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to + venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up + together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating + interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a + little while, he said, "Mother, I'm glad you're going away. I wish I could + go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been <i>so</i> afraid they + would come and catch you!" I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he + had found it out. + </p> + <p> + He replied, "I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went + away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don't know what + made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night + before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in + the night; and I thought maybe she'd been to see <i>you</i>, before she + went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, 'Now go to sleep; and + remember never to tell.'" + </p> + <p> + I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he + never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other + children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to + the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had + kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a + constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that + I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the + house, and I had at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his + actions. Such prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, + but slaves, being surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early + learn to be suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. + He had never asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had + often heard him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being + at the north. + </p> + <p> + I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a + good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord + would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live + together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all + day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a + small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a + part of it, at least, to pay for Benny's being sent to the north; but she + insisted, while her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. + "You may be sick among strangers," she said, "and they would send you to + the poorhouse to die." Ah, that good grandmother! + </p> + <p> + For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer + chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the + blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever + that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old + grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, + after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely + round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again + descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took + me by the hand, and said, "Linda, let us pray." We knelt down together, + with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, + loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has + it ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and + protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in + God. + </p> + <p> + Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in + body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, + though I felt that I should never see it again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. Northward Bound. + </h2> + <p> + I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, + and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle + Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might + reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. + A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something + pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. + He whispered in my ear, "I've been peeping into the doctor's window, and + he's at home. Good by, mother. Don't cry; I'll come." He hastened away. I + clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, + the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks + to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed + with joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to + escape. Yet that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a + chattel! Liable, by the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to + be sold with horses and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all + too full for words! + </p> + <p> + Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors + said, "Don't be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your + husband, in ——." At first I could not imagine what he meant; + but I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something + the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should + have pleasant weather. + </p> + <p> + When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an + elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of + a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a + spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, "Linda, can + this be <i>you</i>? or is it your ghost?" When we were locked in each + other's arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My + sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded + us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us + not to attract any attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight + he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he had no objection to our + being on deck. He assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we + acted prudently, he thought we should be in no danger. He had represented + us as women going to meet our husbands in ——. We thanked him, + and promised to observe carefully all the directions he gave us. + </p> + <p> + Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. + She told me of the suffering she had gone through in making her escape, + and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother's house. Above + all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that + dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the + place where I had passed nearly seven years. "We have the same sorrows," + said I. "No," replied she, "you are going to see your children soon, and + there is no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine." + </p> + <p> + The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was + against us, I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight + of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our + enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables + would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain + and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had + heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely + in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be + dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be + tempted to make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as + property? I was naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made + me suspicious of every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the + captain or his men. She said she was afraid at first, but she had been on + board three days while the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed + her, or treated her otherwise than kindly. + </p> + <p> + The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His + friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny's testimony, reassured + me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and + occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by + birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and + that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. "But," said he, + "it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to + acknowledge my brother in connection with it." As we passed Snaky Swamp, + he pointed to it, and said, "There is a slave territory that defies all + the laws." I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it + was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at + it. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so + refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly + sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating + breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never + realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived + of them. + </p> + <p> + Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain + said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better + wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to + avoid suspicion. + </p> + <p> + I replied, "You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?" + </p> + <p> + He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had + brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in + him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it + was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the + night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. + Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if + Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he + could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, + had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had + intrusted us. The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I + called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free + soil; for such I <i>then</i> believed it to be. We watched the reddening + sky, and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. + Soon the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful + glow. Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and + the eyes of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, + and we supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone + in the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered + by the demon Slavery. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + </h2> + <p> + I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted + we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that + all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind + captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease + to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to + the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were + placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood + wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain + touched me on the shoulder, and said, "There is a respectable-looking + colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and + tell him you wish to go directly on." I thanked him, and asked him to + direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and + said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste + I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with + salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the + great city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double + veils and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so + many levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. + I thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I + gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and + found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the + captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, + minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old + friend. He told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and + must wait until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home + with him, assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and + for my friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked + him for so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, + I should like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of + the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he + would assist me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. + I shook their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind + to us, and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly + conceive of. + </p> + <p> + I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people + in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an + expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting + on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide + to what nation I belonged. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I + was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! + I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received + her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home + made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken + of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in + looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retracted our + steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed + that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was + surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He + was approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask + about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would + he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other + at the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some + of the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; + but I would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I + thought he ought to know how far I was worthy of it. "Excuse me, if I have + tried your feelings," said he. "I did not question you from idle + curiosity. I wanted to understand your situation, in order to know whether + I could be of any service to you, or your little girl. Your + straight-forward answers do you credit; but don't answer every body so + openly. It might give some heartless people a pretext for treating you + with contempt." + </p> + <p> + That word <i>contempt</i> burned me like coals of fire. I replied, "God + alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am + permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live + in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt." + </p> + <p> + "I respect your sentiments," said he. "Place your trust in God, and be + governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends." + </p> + <p> + When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a + while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They + brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my + meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, + her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery + friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of + encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked + concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how + careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. + How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have + been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale + of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my + plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably + established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The + Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New York. The same was + offered to me, but I declined to accept it, telling them that my + grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to the end of my + journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a few days, until some + suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition, + for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, and some dread also of + railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in my life, and it seemed to + me quite an important event. + </p> + <p> + That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it + before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a + long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by + fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, + every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white + people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for + insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored + people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was + but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often + required to drag it to the river's edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham's + daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept through + all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. "What's the matter?" + said she, rubbing her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "They're screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing," I + replied. + </p> + <p> + "What of that?" said she, drowsily. "We are used to it. We never get up, + without the fire is very near. What good would it do?" + </p> + <p> + I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill + the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things + went on in great cities. + </p> + <p> + At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and + various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early + hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. + Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast + table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I + joined in the mirth. + </p> + <p> + I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends + that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind + hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. + Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of + knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. + One day she took me to an artist's room, and showed me the portraits of + some of her children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people + before, and they seemed to be beautiful. + </p> + <p> + At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham's friends offered to accompany + us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good + hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had + repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made + any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, "I am afraid you will have + a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first-class + cars." + </p> + <p> + Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. "O, no," said + he, "they could not be had for any money. They don't allow colored people + to go in the first-class cars." + </p> + <p> + This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored + people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the + south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made + me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + </p> + <p> + We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too + high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, + apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, + containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or + pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes + of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, + and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs + around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been + some improvement in these matters. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + </h2> + <p> + When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen + calling out, "Carriage, ma'am?" We bargained with one to take us to + Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and + said, "I'll tak' ye for sax shillings." The reduction of half the price + was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. "Troth + an I will, ladies," he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each + other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. "Yes, it's dacent + it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin' ladies in a cab that was + not dacent." We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon + reappeared, saying, "This way, if you plase, ladies." We followed, and + found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on + them. We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the + trunks off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six + shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I + was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head + for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had + our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house + in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The + Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of + her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of + the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He + came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him + to aid me in procuring an interview. + </p> + <p> + I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just + arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north + seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came + from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my + daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he + agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle + Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, + when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, + and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to + live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised + and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and + inquired concerning her mother. + </p> + <p> + "You take no notice of the other girl," said my friend. I turned, and + there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from + me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years + since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less + observing than a mother's. My friend invited us all to go into the house; + but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as + quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and + see me. It was agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her + companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I + entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her + return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, "Where is Linda Brent? I + used to know her father and mother." Soon Sarah came with her mother. So + there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother's neighborhood. + These friends gathered round me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, + they cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I had got away from my + persecutors and was safe on Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. + How different from the silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + </p> + <p> + The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with + the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That + I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should + have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I + had just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of + my having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on + several people. + </p> + <p> + I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to + subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon + slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no + alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I + had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my + daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, + inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. + The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I + asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no + heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an + unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she + asked very earnestly, "Mother, will you take me to live with you?" It made + me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and + earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed + with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school She + had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely + knew her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public + schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + </p> + <p> + She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a + friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a + useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, "I + suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has <i>given</i> her to my + eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows + up." I did not answer a word. How <i>could</i> she, who knew by experience + the strength of a mother's love, and who was perfectly aware of the + relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how <i>could</i> she look me + in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + </p> + <p> + I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of + ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and + afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps + they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen's knowledge was + quite sufficient for a slave's condition. I was impatient to go to work + and earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. + Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been + deceived about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt + that I had none. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my friend's house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to + protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called + myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down + that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the + lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his + daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + </p> + <p> + Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother + William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in + Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New + Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling + voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to + get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave + me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my + rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I + lent this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a + copy to my readers. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. A Home Found. + </h2> + <p> + My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly + improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I + walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who + employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, + I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so + faithfully served. + </p> + <p> + One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, + and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she + preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of + infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many + questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from + my former employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a + pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice + against color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try + each other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and + I was engaged for a month. + </p> + <p> + The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this + place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and + sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of + passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so + painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would + have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save + me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told + her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and + kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, + and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant + feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to + confide it; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost + all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was + for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful + feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had + passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of + her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began + to expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the + opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had + leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more + cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, + often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a + home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to + accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my + precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was + important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor + and economy, I could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling + satisfied with Ellen's situation. She was not well cared for. She + sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she generally brought a + request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some + article of clothing. This was accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. + Hobbs's salary at the Custom House became due; but some how or other the + pay-day never came. Thus many dollars of my earnings were expended to keep + my child comfortably clothed. That, however, was a slight trouble, + compared with the fear that their pecuniary embarrassments might induce + them to sell my precious young daughter. I knew they were in constant + communication with Southerners, and had frequent opportunities to do it. I + have stated that when Dr. Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she + had an inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still + troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New + York for a while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known + oculist. It did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a + mother's making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused + to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I + made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother's part + towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as + if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her own physician + to attend to Ellen's eyes, and that she had refused my request because she + did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. I accepted the + explanation in silence; but she had told me that my child <i>belonged</i> + to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was a fear of my + conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her injustice; but my + knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that + it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce's babe. When it + laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms + confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and + Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, + as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was + attracted by a young man in sailor's dress, who was closely observing + every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my + brother William? It <i>must</i> be he—and yet, how changed! I placed + the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the + sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my brother's arms. How + much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over + each other's adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with + Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended so carefully, while I + was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New York a week. His old + feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as lively as ever. There are + no bonds so strong as those which are formed by suffering together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + </h2> + <p> + My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my + letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I + received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In + order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear + in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. + They had no idea that I knew of the doctor's three excursions to New York + in search of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five + hundred dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way + to the steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt + Nancy's death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I + have kept the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher. +</pre> + <p> + This letter was signed by Emily's brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I + knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and + though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in + former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the + hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to + go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on "the stupidity of the + African race." I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their + cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged + with base ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the + south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The + letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. + Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important + business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked + permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. + I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to + my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she + was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, + she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She + was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred + to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he + advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may + have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known + to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is + thought to be dangerous to their "peculiar institution," and he becomes + unpopular. + </p> + <p> + There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to + New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested + to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my + door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. "O mother!" he exclaimed, + "here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d'you do?" + </p> + <p> + O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a + slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. + "Mother, why don't you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see + her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, 'O Ben, I + wish I was going too.' I thought she'd know ever so much; but she don't + know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can't. And, mother, I lost + all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I 'spose free boys + can get along here at the north as well as white boys." + </p> + <p> + I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was + mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The + rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, + with the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with + us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and + be sure to tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon + me, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain + where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the + affectionate family, who were waiting for me with "open arms," were doomed + to disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of + my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through + the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and + finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the + considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews + with my darling daughter. + </p> + <p> + But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was + necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh + air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might + recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like + one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a + comfort it is, to be free to <i>say</i> so! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + </h2> + <p> + It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We + went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for + tea, Mrs. Bruce said, "Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come + to the table with me." I replied, "I know it is time baby had her supper, + but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being + insulted." "O no, not if you are with <i>me</i>," she said. I saw several + white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were + at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff + voice said, "Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here." I looked + up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a + colored man. If his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the + boat, he might, at least, have done it politely. I replied, "I shall not + get up, unless the captain comes and takes me up." No cup of tea was + offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked + to see whether the other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They + were all properly waited on. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making + a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, "Take my arm, Linda, and we'll go + in together." The landlord heard her, and said, "Madam, will you allow + your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?" I knew this was to + be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I + did not mind it. + </p> + <p> + At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took + one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, + of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but + here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round + me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize + me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + </p> + <p> + We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the + remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the + clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see + Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, + were, "O, mother, don't go to Mrs. Hobbs's. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has + come from the south, and may be he'll tell where you are." I accepted the + warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and + would try to see her when I came back. + </p> + <p> + Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a "Jim Crow + car," on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the + streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same + manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, + and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway + before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a large hotel, beautifully + situated by the sea-side—a great resort of the fashionable world. + Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of + the ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only + nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took + little Mary and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long + hall. A young man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the + table two or three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower + end of it. As there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my + lap. Whereupon the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner + possible, "Will you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand + behind it and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the + kitchen, where you will have a good supper." + </p> + <p> + This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I + looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade + lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence + were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in + my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce + ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered + for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they + soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The + landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his + servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of + other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + </p> + <p> + My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with <i>themselves</i>, + for not having too much self-respect to submit to such treatment; that + there was no difference in the price of board for colored and white + servants, and there was no justification for difference of treatment. I + staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand up for my + rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man and woman + do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot by our + oppressors. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + </h2> + <p> + After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and + see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. + Hobbs's southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid + seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted + on my going up stairs. "My brother wants to see you," said she, "and he is + sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told + me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many + little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her + grandchild." + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the + south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old + slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom + they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he + professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a + distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was + nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be + the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He + met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from + slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + </p> + <p> + I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful + child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant + lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own + inconveniences and troubles; but a mother's observing eye easily perceived + that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her + unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing + was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very + grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation + that was continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very + often for rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and + Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so + that they had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. "But for all + that," said she, "Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can't help liking him. I + feel sorry for him." I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had + laid up a hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give + her and Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous + not to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover + till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne's intemperance was not the only + annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to + my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile + language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + </p> + <p> + I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found + Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. "O, mother," said she, + "I've been waiting for you this long time. I'm afraid Mr. Thorne has + written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. + Hobbs will tell you all about it!" + </p> + <p> + The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine + arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, + which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the + time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the + pieces and carried them to the children, saying, "I wonder who Mr. Thorne + has been writing to." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I don't know, and don't care," replied the oldest of the + children; "and I don't see how it concerns you." + </p> + <p> + "But it does concern me," replied Ellen; "for I'm afraid he's been writing + to the south about my mother." + </p> + <p> + They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put + the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were + no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, "I declare, Ellen, I + believe you are right." + </p> + <p> + The contents of Mr. Thorne's letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as + follows: "I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can + be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here + to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my + country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws." He concluded by + informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children + carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother's + room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they + saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to + the post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint + a copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, + and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the + next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of + the family were astir. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city + with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and + all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that + demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I + had not concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would + have made her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind + heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told + her all the particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was + necessary for her to know how I was situated. I had once left her + abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do + it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness + of my face attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, + I poured out my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true + womanly sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. + How my heart blessed her! + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. + They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great + if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house + of one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my + brother could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my + thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was + also mine by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that + made her so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. + Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly about her brother's treachery, yielded to my + entreaties, on condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided + making any promise. She came to me clad in very thin garments, all + outgrown, and with a school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. + It was late in October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring + to go out in the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel + skirt and converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me + good by, and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, + the tears came to her eyes. She said, "Wait for me, Linda," and went out. + She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of + such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go + to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in + that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers + that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the + steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I + knew that colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very + desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure + to the night air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting + on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular + favor, that she would treat us well. He said to me, "Go and speak to the + captain yourself by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure + that he will not let her sleep on deck." With these kind words and a shake + of the hand he departed. + </p> + <p> + The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home + where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to + purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he + would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave + me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner + I said, "You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot + possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter." She assured me + there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were + allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much + travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain's office, + and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the + hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our + tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was + contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he + would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he + was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the + boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies' cabin. He came + afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that + he had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very + much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don't know whether the + pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the + stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper's manner that I was a fugitive, and + had pleaded with him in my behalf. + </p> + <p> + When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and + showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to + take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on + toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we + reached Boston in safety. + </p> + <p> + The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if + I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during + many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed + their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a + swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + </p> + <p> + I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, + that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to + Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me + for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her + age, so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her + myself till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter + passed pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with + their books. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVII. A Visit To England + </h2> + <p> + In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in + this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. + I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. + Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother's relatives in + England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little + motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she + would be happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn + more in this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and + left Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + </p> + <p> + We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage + of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the + Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had + seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. + For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated + according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as + if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a + pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, + for the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, + unadulterated freedom. + </p> + <p> + As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the + wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed + through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in + our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days + with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to + accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English + education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight + in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates + and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good + management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did + not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like + all children—sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + </p> + <p> + We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be + the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six + shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and + sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they + lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a + woman's wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of + meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the + cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the + United States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of + the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among + the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched + cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant + among them was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves + in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while + the stars were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through + heat and cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very + humble; but they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in + the dead of night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he + closed his cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master + or overseer could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They + must separate to earn their living; but the parents knew where their + children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The + relations of husband and wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the + richest noble in the land to violate with impunity. Much was being done to + enlighten these poor people. Schools were established among them, and + benevolent societies were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. + There was no law forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they + helped each other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of + thirty-nine lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle + Fred. I repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these + peasants was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American + slave. + </p> + <p> + I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to + paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the + condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of <i>my</i> + experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If + she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the + fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation + in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her + tell quite a different story. + </p> + <p> + My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my + having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous + manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in + my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; + and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the + gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole + service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in + the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of + his daily life inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian + professions. Grace entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I + trust, in true humility of soul. + </p> + <p> + I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had + anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of + prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came + for us to return to America. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + </h2> + <p> + We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to + rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be + afraid of one's native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I + hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and + improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had + been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every + thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his + fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they + had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at once + transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were + Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their + dignity to have a "nigger" among them, after they had been told that he <i>was</i> + a "nigger." They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that + he returned the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too + spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do + something to support himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped + for a whaling voyage. When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and + bitterly reproached myself for having left him so long. But I had done it + for the best, and now all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to + guide and protect him. + </p> + <p> + Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily + Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress. +</pre> + <p> + Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I + felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such + professions. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Come up into my parlor," said the spider to the fly; + "Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy." +</pre> + <p> + It was plain that Dr. Flint's family were apprised of my movements, since + they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from + them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in + future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education + of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, + but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a + piece of property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and + during that time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many + comforts in food and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but + though Dr. Flint had incurred no expense for their support, he had + received a large sum of money for them. I knew the law would decide that I + was his property, and would probably still give his daughter a claim to my + children; but I regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had + no rights that I was bound to respect. + </p> + <p> + The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts + had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so + called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I + relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware + that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIX. The Confession. + </h2> + <p> + For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. + At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a + boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with + her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two + little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish + feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we + had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her + father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a + shrinking dread of diminishing my child's love. I knew she must have + curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was + always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now + that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, + she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the + palliating circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the + subject, her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + </p> + <p> + When we retired for the night, she said, "Mother, it is very hard to leave + you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve + myself. But you will write to me often; won't you, mother?" + </p> + <p> + I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, + solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, "Listen to me, Ellen; I + have something to tell you!" I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, + and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they + had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and + exclaimed, "O, don't, mother! Please don't tell me any more." + </p> + <p> + I said, "But, my child, I want you to know about your father." + </p> + <p> + "I know all about it, mother," she replied; "I am nothing to my father, + and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five + months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as + he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for + Fanny's nurse told me so, but she said I must never tell any body, and I + never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he + did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I + thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl + then, and didn't know any better. But now I never think any thing about my + father. All my love is for you." She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I + thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not + diminished the affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she + knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her + long before; for my pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves + out to some one I could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the + delicacy she had manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the + village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if + all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I + was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, + requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my + return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an + anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of + some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried + it, but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, + but the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I + passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical + believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a + man's worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those + beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + </h2> + <p> + My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to + California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen + liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her + history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make + capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered + that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase + her advantages and diminish her expenses. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I + preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from + Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling + little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a + cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl + now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was + proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one + hesitation, and that was feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly + increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to + try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. + Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic influences, and still + living in the midst of them; but if she had any prejudice against color, I + was never made aware of it; and as for the system of slavery, she had a + most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry of Southerners could blind her to + its enormity. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. + To me, from that hour to the present, she has been a true and sympathizing + friend. Blessings be with her and hers! + </p> + <p> + About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred of + disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first + fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of + the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign + of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl + of excitement, taking no note of the "short and simple annals of the + poor." But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of + Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted + colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from + Zion's church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, + fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made + herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a + hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in + Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that + her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. + Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery + years ago, and as "the child follows the condition of its mother," the + children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. + Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. + But what cared the legislators of the "dominant race" for the blood they + were crushing out of trampled hearts? + </p> + <p> + When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to + California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our + oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I + seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our + oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did + not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by + his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent + and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; + and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the + family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What + a disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of + offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be + condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for + protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu + vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their + persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the + newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I + did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might + be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if + necessary; for if many were "running to and fro," I resolved that + "knowledge should be increased." + </p> + <p> + This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly + relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to + a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter + heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was + included in the son's portion. This young man became a prey to the vices + he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with + him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive + dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose + despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own + helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial + occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel + beside the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. + Some days he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to + be in readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving + more or less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town + constable was sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from + experience how much more the constable's strong arm was to be dreaded than + the comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew + weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable's services were in + constant requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke's + care, and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring + any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to + increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere + degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of + despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable + was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy + to be repeated. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke + still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + </p> + <p> + One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was + hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man + approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I + recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had + escaped from the black pit; I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern + soil, though I no longer called it <i>free</i> soil. I well remembered + what a desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up + to him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I + mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive + Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was a city of + kidnappers. + </p> + <p> + He replied, "De risk ain't so bad for me, as 'tis fur you. 'Cause I runned + away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem + speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain't + sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I's tuk good car + 'bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let 'em ketch dis nigger." + </p> + <p> + He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. + I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. "'Pend upon it, I + hab," he replied. "I tuk car fur dat. I'd bin workin all my days fur dem + cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger + had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he + lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil + would hab him, an vouldn't vant him to bring his money 'long too. So I tuk + some of his bills, and put 'em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he + was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub 'em to me." + With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, "You see I didn't <i>steal</i> it; + dey <i>gub</i> it to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de + speculator from findin it; but he didn't git it." + </p> + <p> + This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. + When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws + sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard + to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat + enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused + Luke, in thinking he had a <i>right</i> to that money, as a portion of his + unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from + him. + </p> + <p> + All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children + out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. + I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their + appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws + as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called + free! + </p> + <p> + Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew + of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me + caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce's + children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which + slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at + their cupidity and mean servility. + </p> + <p> + I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt + measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied + immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should + carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for + the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how + few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a + fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of + the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice + she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, "It is + better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your + track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there + is a possibility of saving you, you shall be saved." + </p> + <p> + This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many + respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for + harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her + country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, "I am + very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. + Shame on my country that it <i>is</i> so! I am ready to incur the penalty. + I will go to the state's prison, rather than have any poor victim torn + from <i>my</i> house, to be carried back to slavery." + </p> + <p> + The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write + of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my + persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a + senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable + gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the + senator in "Uncle Tom's Cabin;" on the contrary, he was strongly opposed + to it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me + remain in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I + remained a month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint's + emissaries had lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, + I returned to New York. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLI. Free At Last. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I + was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a + cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was + doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to + breathe God's free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; + and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized + country. + </p> + <p> + From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could + not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an + extract from one of her last letters:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father's kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don't neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God's children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother. +</pre> + <p> + These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have + tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her + messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I + mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned + from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she + wrote, "Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! + I hope he made his peace with God." + </p> + <p> + I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she + had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress + had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to + myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely + forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master's + death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the + grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his + memory is odious now. + </p> + <p> + His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had + threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after + he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of his + survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I + supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried several + children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. The doctor + had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to will to his + heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I was well aware + what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my fears were + confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my guard, + because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not afford to + lose so valuable a slave as I was. + </p> + <p> + I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, + being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I + went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy + about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list + of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine + the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. + and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, + and that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that + they were short of funds and had need of my value, as <i>they</i> valued + me; and that was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. + Bruce. Her heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and + she always warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how + near the enemy was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we + were sleeping. He might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I + ventured out of doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, + and therefore I could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A + carriage was hastily ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, + taking the baby again with me into exile. After various turnings and + crossings, and returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of + Mrs. Bruce's friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned + immediately, to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to + inquire for me. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had + a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. + Bruce's return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. + One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said + he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in + person. + </p> + <p> + They were told, "She <i>has</i> lived here, but she has left." + </p> + <p> + "How long ago?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Do you know where she went?" + </p> + <p> + "I do not, sir." And the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee + pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. + He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and + married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and + the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to + remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had + become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for + support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should + make an effort to put me into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most + implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge + had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make + inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint's family + were well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, + and he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. + Dodge's room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly + inquired, "What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?" + </p> + <p> + "Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to + ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn't suppose it would give + any offence." + </p> + <p> + "Where's that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?" + </p> + <p> + "What girl, sir?" + </p> + <p> + "You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint's + plantation, some years ago. I dare say you've seen her, and know where she + is." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir, I've seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, + sir." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to + buy her freedom." + </p> + <p> + "I don't think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would + go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her + freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn't + do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her + children." + </p> + <p> + This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. + My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I + received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in + the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business + was very plain. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. + She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me + might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an + earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, + disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been + chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to + end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring + to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for + afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, "Will the + preachers take for their text, 'Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the + opening of prison doors to them that are bound'? or will they preach from + the text, 'Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you'?" Oppressed + Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell + was free to proclaim in the City Hall his desire for "a plantation well + stocked with slaves;" but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring + to show my face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on + that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, "Oppression makes even a wise man + mad;" and I was not wise. + </p> + <p> + I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her + right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This + it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. + Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young + daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had + suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger's when a + hunter tries to seize her young. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned + away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations + unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o'clock in the evening + arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend + became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk + for my journey—trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. + I yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + </p> + <p> + The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New + England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to + me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, + informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she + intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt + grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not + so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become + enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an + article of property; and to pay money to those who had so grievously + oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I + wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being sold from one + owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such a great + obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my + brother in California. + </p> + <p> + Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter + into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars + down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish + all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my + master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The + gentleman replied, "You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this + offer you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will + convey her and her children out of the country." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dodge concluded that "half a loaf was better than no bread," and he + agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief + letter from Mrs. Bruce: "I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your + freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you + and my sweet babe." + </p> + <p> + My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, "It's + true; I have seen the bill of sale." "The bill of sale!" Those words + struck me like a blow. So I was <i>sold</i> at last! A human being <i>sold</i> + in the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future + generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New + York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may + hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to + measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well know the + value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to + look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, + but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully + belonged to him or his. + </p> + <p> + I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when + it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary + shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil + my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have + met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he + might have mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to + sell me for three hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and + our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, "O Linda, I'm <i>so</i> + glad it's all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be + transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your + services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail + for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of + knowing that you left me a free woman." + </p> + <p> + My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried + to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I + hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old + grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and + how often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old + heart would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that + we were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God + had raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the + precious, long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly + used. Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by + careless handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word + is sacred. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a + letter came with a black seal. She had gone "where the wicked cease from + troubling, and the weary are at rest." + </p> + <p> + Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an + obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of + such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of + his friends, and contained these words: "Now that death has laid him low, + they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to + the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not + require man's praise to obtain rest in God's kingdom." So they called a + colored man a <i>citizen</i>! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + </p> + <p> + Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I + and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of + slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and though that, + according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast + improvement in <i>my</i> condition. The dream of my life is not yet + realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own, I still long + for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children's + sake far more than for my own. But God so orders circumstances as to keep + me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her + side. It is a privilege to serve her who pities my oppressed people, and + who has bestowed the inestimable boon of freedom on me and my children. + </p> + <p> + It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I + passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the + retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy + recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, + fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of + Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by + friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the + preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her + hospitable roof. + </p> + <h3> + L.M.C. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister's life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. + + As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave-woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disinthralment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, "You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read." Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. + + Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. + + This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been <i>bought</i> was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: "I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me <i>that</i> freedom; but man put + God's image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant." + + Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859. +</pre> + <p> + The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable + colored citizen of Boston. + </p> + <h3> + L.M.C. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years' concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. + + George W. Lowther. +</pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl +by Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 11030-h.htm or 11030-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/3/11030/ + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl + Written by Herself + +Author: Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent) + +Release Date: February 11, 2004 [eBook #11030] +[Most recently updated: August 9, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders +Revised by Richard Tonsing. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A +SLAVE GIRL *** + + + + +[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.] + + +Incidents + +in the + +Life of a Slave Girl. + + +Written by Herself. + +Linda Brent + + +“Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual +bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of _degradation_ +involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease their +efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + +A Woman Of North Carolina. + + +“Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! +Give ear unto my speech.” + +Isaiah xxxii. 9. + + +Edited By L. Maria Child. + +Boston: Published For The Author. + +1861. + + + + +Preface By The Author + + +Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my +adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. +I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, my +descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of +places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on +my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to +pursue this course. + +I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my +readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was +born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven +years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to work +diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This has +not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities to +improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregular +intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties. + +When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a +sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an +undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I +still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what +might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in +order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been +more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I +care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire to +arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of two +millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I +suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that of +abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery really +is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul is +that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfect +effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + +—_Linda Brent_ + + + + +Introduction By The Editor + + +The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and +her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last +seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a +distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be +highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further +credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be +disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are more +romantic than fiction. + +At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have +made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement. +I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of her +very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and the +language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I had +no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her own +story. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for good +reasons I suppress them. + +It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be +able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first +place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, +with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate +friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in +favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent +intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her +welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + +I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these +pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and +much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, and +others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been kept +veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous +features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with +the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who +are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to +them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women +at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence on +the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hope +that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before God +that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shall +ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and +cruelty. + +—_L. Maria Child_ + + + + +Contents + + +Childhood + +The New Master And Mistress + +The Slaves’ New Year’s Day + +The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man + +The Trials Of Girlhood + +The Jealous Mistress + +The Lover + +What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North + +Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders + +A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life + +The New Tie To Life + +Fear Of Insurrection + +The Church And Slavery + +Another Link To Life + +Continued Persecutions + +Scenes At The Plantation + +The Flight + +Months Of Peril + +The Children Sold + +New Perils + +The Loophole Of Retreat + +Christmas Festivities + +Still In Prison + +The Candidate For Congress + +Competition In Cunning + +Important Era In My Brother’s Life + +New Destination For The Children + +Aunt Nancy + +Preparations For Escape + +Northward Bound + +Incidents In Philadelphia + +The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter + +A Home Found + +The Old Enemy Again + +Prejudice Against Color + +The Hairbreadth Escape + +A Visit To England + +Renewed Invitations To Go South + +The Confession + +The Fugitive Slave Law + +Free At Last + +Appendix + + + + +Incidents + +in the + +Life of A Slave Girl, + +Seven Years Concealed. + + + * * * * * + + + + +I. Childhood + + +I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood +had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent +and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were +to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On +condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supporting +himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs. +His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he several +times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. In +complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were +termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though we +were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a +piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to be +demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was two +years younger than myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had also a great +treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in many +respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at his +death, left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St. +Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War; +and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold to +different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to tell me; +but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little girl when she +was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I have often heard +her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as she grew older she +evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master and +mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to take care of +such a valuable piece of property. She became an indispensable personage in +the household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet nurse to +seamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers +became so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous of +obtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked +permission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the +household work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she +would clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms, +after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight +bakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved +profitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a fund +to purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was divided +among his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continued +to keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but her +children were divided among her master’s children. As she had five, +Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each heir might have an +equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little difference in our +ages that he seemed more like my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, +handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmother +had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven +hundred and twenty dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow +to my grandmother, but she was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with +renewed energy, trusting in time to be able to purchase some of her +children. She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her mistress one day +begged as a loan, promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows that +no promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, according +to Southern laws, a slave, _being_ property, can _hold_ no property. When +my grandmother lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely +to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + +To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother +Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and preserves, +she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were indebted to +her for many more important services. + +Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. When +I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I +learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother’s mistress +was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She was the foster-sister of +my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother’s breast. In fact, my +mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the mistress +might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; and, when +they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her whiter +foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her children +should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she kept her +word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely +in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for her, and my +young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take care of me and +my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be with her mistress; +and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposed +on me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do her +bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would permit. +I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart as free +from care as that of any free-born white child. When she thought I was +tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gather +berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were happy days—too happy +to last. The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came that +blight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel. + +When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As +I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayed +in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been almost like +a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and they buried her +in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears fell upon her +grave. + +I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to +begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they +would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind +as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her children +should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, and recalled +her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having some hopes +that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it would be so. +They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother’s love and +faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful +slave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block. + +After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we +learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of +five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the +precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” +“Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.” +But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her +neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great +wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy days +I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of +injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for +this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her +memory. + +She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed +among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had +shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding +my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her +children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no +more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the +horses they tend. + + + + +II. The New Master And Mistress. + + +Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my +mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not +without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my +unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the same +family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of transacting +business as a skillful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a freeman than +is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and being brought up +under such influences, he daily detested the name of master and mistress. +One day, when his father and his mistress both happened to call him at the +same time, he hesitated between the two; being perplexed to know which had +the strongest claim upon his obedience. He finally concluded to go to his +mistress. When my father reproved him for it, he said, “You both called me, +and I didn’t know which I ought to go to first.” + +“You are _my_ child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you should +come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + +Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a master. +Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found an echo in +the credulous hearts of youth. + +When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and +cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I moaned +and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + +I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was +buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her only +child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I still had +something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, “Come with me, +Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. She led +me apart from the people, and then said, “My child, your father is dead.” +Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not even heard +that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart rebelled +against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and friend. +The good grandmother tried to comfort me. “Who knows the ways of God?” said +she. “Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to come.” +Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a mother to +her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; and +strengthened by her love, I returned to my master’s. I thought I should be +allowed to go to my father’s house the next morning; but I was ordered to +go for flowers, that my mistress’s house might be decorated for an evening +party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into festoons, +while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. What cared +my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. Moreover, they +thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to feel that they +were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a slave to teach; +presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + +The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my +dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected his +memory. + +My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little +slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about the +joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried to +comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come by +and by.” + +“You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have to +stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + +I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we +might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could earn +money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to say than +to do; moreover, he did not intend to _buy_ his freedom. We held daily +controversies upon this subject. + +Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. If +they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave +myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my +grandmother’s house, where there was always something to spare for me. I +was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my +grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something +for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to _her_ for all my comforts, +spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor that supplied my scanty wardrobe. +I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress given me every +winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges of slavery. + +While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard earnings, +the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never repaid. When +her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed executor. When +grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate was insolvent, +and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, prohibit him from +retaining the silver candelabra, which had been purchased with that money. +I presume they will be handed down in the family, from generation to +generation. + +My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she +should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. +But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servant +that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold. + +On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, +proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, &c.” Dr. +Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her +feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose +of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she +understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very +spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress +intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. +She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and preserves; +consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was called, was generally known, and +every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good character. Her +long and faithful service in the family was also well known, and the +intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day of sale came, she +took her place among the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon +the auction block. Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! Who is going to +sell _you_, aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is no place for _you_.” +Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At +last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” It came from a maiden lady, +seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother’s deceased mistress. She +had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she knew how +faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had been +defrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The auctioneer +waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no one bid above +her. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill of sale was made +out, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence was that, when she +had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She gave the old servant +her freedom. + +At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had +passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had +defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One of +my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. She +was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both housekeeper and +waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the beginning and end of +every thing. + +Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She +had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were +so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, +till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of +the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did not seem to put her in a +Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on that +particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait till +it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had been used +for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children from eking +out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. +The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them. +Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a day. I +can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from her flour +barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, and exactly +what size they ought to be. + +Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table without +fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his liking, +he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat every +mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not have +objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram it +down her throat till she choked. + +They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered +to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was +held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a few +minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been well +cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent for +the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman’s stomach +was stronger than the dog’s; but her sufferings afterwards proved that he +was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her master and +mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing baby, for a +whole day and night. + +When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves was +brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he arrived, +and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied up to the +joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that situation he +was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never forget +that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows fall; +in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his “O, pray +don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many +conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master +accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with his +wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being the +father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very fair. + +I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet with +blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and +continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint +handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value +into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of +sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader’s hands, +she said. “You _promised_ to treat me well.” To which he replied, “You have +let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had forgotten that it was a +crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + +From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once +saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. +In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” Her mistress stood +by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You suffer, do you?” she +exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too.” + +The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor +child will soon be in heaven, too.” + +“Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like of +her and her bastard.” + +The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, +feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, +mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + +Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt +unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still on +her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had but +the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked God +for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + + + + +III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + + +Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty +slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + +Hiring day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the +slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until +the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters +give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until +Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they +are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may think +proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and they gather together their little +alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait anxiously +for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are thronged with +men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear their doom +pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, or cruel +master, within forty miles of him. + +It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves well; +for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me this +year. I will work _very_ hard, massa.” + +If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or locked +up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away during +the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it justifiable to +violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! The whip is used +till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs are put in +chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + +If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, +without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. After +those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + +O, you happy free women, contrast _your_ New Year’s day with that of the +poor bondwoman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of the day +is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are showered +upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at this +season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you a happy New +Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy lips for +a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can take them +from you. + +But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. +She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be torn +from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they might +die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded by the +system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a mother’s +instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother’s agonies. + +On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the +auction block. She knew that _some_ of them would be taken from her; but +they took _all_. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and their mother +was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her children were all +far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he intended to take them; +this he refused to do. How _could_ he, when he knew he would sell them, one +by one, wherever he could command the highest price? I met that mother in +the street, and her wild, haggard face lives to-day in my mind. She wrung +her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, “Gone! All gone! Why _don’t_ God kill +me?” I had no words wherewith to comfort her. Instances of this kind are of +daily, yea, of hourly occurrence. + +Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid +of _old_ slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I knew an +old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She had +become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved to +Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who would +give twenty dollars for her. + + + + +IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + + +Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those years +had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they +had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + +My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan +grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now mistress +of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. She would +have been happy could her children have shared them with her. There +remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most +earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that +He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed +hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + +It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her +children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We +reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated +as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet +balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always met +us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She spoke +so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. There +was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things for the +town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + +But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our +hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully +made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother +William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master +that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He +came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. It +was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing here +and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose +restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom +to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that +scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad +I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and +swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + +When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in +_every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and should +surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + +So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither +saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded +close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look so sad? I love you. +O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and unhappy. I +wish I had died when poor father did.” + +I told him that every body was _not_ cross, or unhappy; that those who had +pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love them, +were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or mother, +could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would bring us +contentment. + +“Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all the +time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s difficulty +with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas +had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas +said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; +but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting +the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in that +likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the skirmish +none the worse for a few scratches. + +He continued to discourse, on his young master’s _meanness_; how he whipped +the _little_ boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle ensued between +him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he always took to his +legs. William had other charges to make against him. One was his rubbing up +pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for quarters of a dollar on +an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was often sent to buy fruit, and +he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to do under such circumstances. I +told him it was certainly wrong to deceive the old man, and that it was his +duty to tell him of the impositions practised by his young master. I +assured him the old man would not be slow to comprehend the whole, and +there the matter would end. William thought it might with the old man, but +not with _him_. He said he did not mind the smart of the whip, but he did +not like the _idea_ of being whipped. + +While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the +beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that +urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother’s God-given +nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, +seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, +of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God’s +most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + +If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in Benjamin’s +heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of a girl’s first +love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render me miserable. +He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the petty, tyrannical +ways that human ingenuity could devise. + +I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. +My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. I +needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still continued +to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, their creaking grated +harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what I had +about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new shoes. +“Take them off,” said she; “and if you put them on again, I’ll throw them +into the fire.” + +I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, +on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night +I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me +sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + +I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress +would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the little imp,” as +she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such +extravagant imaginings. + +Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, +“She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no right +to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, and I +could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned my +affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and his +wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant +doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her +mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must +be the latter. I said to myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + +One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. My +mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I was +perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, that +she believed I was telling a lie. + +I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny +paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing +thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, brother,” said I, +“what is the matter this time?” + +“O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + +My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, +Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + +It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not +immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began +to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master +was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground +his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the +result. + +That night I stole to my grandmother’s house; and Benjamin also stole +thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two +with an old friend living in the country. + +“I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + +I inquired where. + +“To the north,” he replied. + +I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his firm, +set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my words. He +said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more galling. He +had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly whipped for +the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he must encounter +among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought back; and that +was terrible to think of. + +He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not +preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we are dogs +here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will not stay. Let +them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + +He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break your +mother’s heart.” + +I repented of my words ere they were out. + +“Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, “how +_could_ you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, too, +cousin Fanny.” + +Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + +Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so +many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + +It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he +was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The +captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who +was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His +embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the +advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its +description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. +The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that port +Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He escaped +from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to his master. + +When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, +great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, “God’s will +be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from her +boy. Yes, news _was_ heard. The master was rejoicing over a letter, +announcing the capture of his human chattel. + +That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led +through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet full +of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his mother’s +house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her distress would +take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and she went; but +she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her child had said. + +We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, +and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my +grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not +a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” whispered my +grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. There was a jingle +of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through the +bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin’s cold hands in ours. +We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin’s lips were unsealed; for +his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory bring back that +sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her pardon for the +suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she could +not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured, he +broke away, and was about casting himself into the river, when thoughts of +_her_ came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did not also think of +God. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the moonlight. He answered, +“No, I did not think of him. When a man is hunted like a wild beast he +forgets there is a God, a heaven. He forgets every thing in his struggle to +get beyond the reach of the bloodhounds.” + +“Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, my +child, and your master will forgive you.” + +“Forgive me for _what_, mother? For not letting him treat me like a dog? +No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for nothing +all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I will +stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + +The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he +next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t +worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every +thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I +could.” + +She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when +sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned +to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do +likewise. + +We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + +Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to +intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin +should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in +jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. +However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, +and we were allowed to visit him. + +As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible a +warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + +Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a +purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum +was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He +was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered +with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered with +vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of them. +He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that they +should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was +covered with vermin. + +This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our +visits. + +My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old ones +were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still begged +him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion nor +argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, “I am waiting +his time.” + +Those chains were mournful to hear. + +Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that +loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave-trader had +bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years +of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred +dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement +had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had +heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable for +a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a girl. We +thanked God that he was not. + +Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened +the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, +and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly +pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you +would exclaim, _Slavery is damnable_! Benjamin, her youngest, her pet, was +forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview with the +trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be purchased. She +was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to sell him till he +was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell him till he +reached New Orleans. + +With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of +love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still be +separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she labored. +The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was not discouraged. + +She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New +Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly +favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he +thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the trader +an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and had +invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for freedom. +So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was riding over +the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + +For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion +that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed +out to the letter, and the _thing_ rendered back to slavery. The brightest +skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was taken +sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength was +slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to retard +his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? He +resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he +thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a +voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing _here_!” + +His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not +stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his old +master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; but +it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly number +of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose ticking +is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + +“Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave +you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. You +had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing for all +me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, for there +are several gentlemen here from our town.” He described the nearest and +safest route to New York, and added, “I shall be glad to tell your mother I +have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + +Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town he +hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + +This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. +On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the +service he had rendered him. + +Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had +gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my +grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business +for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. You may be +sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, “I am here at +last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free +land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. +He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the +old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but +something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. He +had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven for +self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not desire +a continuation of the same in another world. “If I die now,” he exclaimed, +“thank God, I shall die a freeman!” + +He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with him, +till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it would +kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged her +house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be bought? + +“No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out +of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I +would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay +all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know she +will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good +mother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, and I +have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what’ll become of her? Phil, +you don’t know what a life they lead her. She has told me something about +it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in jail, he +asked her if she didn’t want _him_ to ask my master to forgive me, and take +me home again. She told him, No; that I didn’t want to go back. He got mad, +and said we were all alike. I never despised my own master half as much as +I do that man. There is many a worse slaveholder than my master; but for +all that I would not be his slave.” + +While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay +necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in his +bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I thought +none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + +His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + +They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, +“Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard from +him again. + +Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered the +house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She stood +looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe it?” he +said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her hands, and +exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped on her knees, +and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit down and repeat +to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only he forbore to +mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he distress her +when she could do him no good? + +The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other +children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight +hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his +freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that +night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove +to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long +taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, “He that is _willing_ to +be a slave, let him be a slave.” + + + + +V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + + +During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was +accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. +Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and +tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I +now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. +My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I could +not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with +indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, and the fear +that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this +treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means +to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that +made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he thought +must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, although they +left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my +grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, +such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust +and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under the same +roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior daily violating the +most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was his property; that I +must be subject to his will in all things. My soul revolted against the +mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? No matter whether the +slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, +there is no shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or +even from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape of +men. The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other +feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, the +wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more than I can describe. +They are greater than you would willingly believe. Surely, if you credited +one half the truths that are told you concerning the helpless millions +suffering in this cruel bondage, you at the north would not help to tighten +the yoke. You surely would refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, +the mean and cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of +whites do for him at the south. + +Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in slavery +the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the little child, +who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, will learn, +before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress hates such and +such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child’s own mother is among those +hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot +help understanding what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowing +in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master’s +footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child. +If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest curse. That +which commands admiration in the white woman only hastens the degradation +of the female slave. I know that some are too much brutalized by slavery to +feel the humiliation of their position; but many slaves feel it most +acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how much I +suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am still pained by the +retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged to +him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would compel me to submit to +him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after a day of unwearied +toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my mother’s grave, his dark +shadow fell on me even there. The light heart which nature had given me +became heavy with sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master’s house +noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; but none dared to ask the +cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practices +under that roof; and they were aware that to speak of them was an offence +that never went unpunished. + +I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have +laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all my +troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as +the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared her +as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a +respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about +telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict +on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was +usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once +roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once +chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one +of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; +and both pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide +in my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, +her presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she +had been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching +rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he +did not wish to have his villainy made public. It was lucky for me that +I did not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that +the inhabitants were ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the +laws and customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a +professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of +decency. + +O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it +is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what +I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your +hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once +suffered. + +I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white +child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them +embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away +from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on +the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to +sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood to +womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a sunny +sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose on her +happy bridal morning. + +How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of her +childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine of +love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, +whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + +In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the +north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that I +had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There are +noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who cannot +help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage to go +on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the cause of +humanity! + + + + +VI. The Jealous Mistress. + + +I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the +half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the +slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton +plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an +unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a +penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his +ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is not +allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to wish +to be virtuous. + +Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was born. +She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and +the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were +the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her +husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to +evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested +in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb +asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and many +were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day he +caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well +pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an +accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, +notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I +can’t read them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to +you.” He always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” +Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his +supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself +there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away +the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These +intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly +throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited +my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had +exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his +patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me +at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When +there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to +address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he +would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. +Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be +forebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In +desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for +protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made +any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally of +a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out of +his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that some +threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + +I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent that +my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently passed +between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and he would +not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was never +satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her to +bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity for +her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never wronged +her, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her would have +brought me to her feet. + +After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his +intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in +his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same +room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, +and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing +to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, I +had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often held +to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I slept by +the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent to come +into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family many years. +Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed it necessary +to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove the obstacle +in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so that he +should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my refuge by +the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it. The +first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next +morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A +kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of +this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. + +After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first +question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Who told you?” + +“My master.” + +“Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + +“Yes, ma’am.” + +“Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I have +accused you?” + +“I am.” + +She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this +holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + +I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + +“You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. “If +you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me +directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master +and you.” + +I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed +frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, +that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon +convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt +that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had +no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. She pitied +herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of +shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yet +perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was +ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been +much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but +my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very +refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object +of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not +expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I +was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women +would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from +small-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was +obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + +I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it afterwards; +but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she rendered me +to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room adjoining her +own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not to her especial +comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch over me. Sometimes I +woke up, and found her bending over me. At other times she whispered in my +ear, as though it was her husband who was speaking to me, and listened to +hear what I would answer. If she startled me, on such occasions, she would +glide stealthily away; and the next morning she would tell me I had been +talking in my sleep, and ask who I was talking to. At last, I began to be +fearful for my life. It had been often threatened; and you can imagine, +better than I can describe, what an unpleasant sensation it must produce to +wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous woman bending over you. +Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it would give place to +one more terrible. + +My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She +changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of +crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. To +my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe it; but if she did +acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me.” Tortured into exposing +him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his +soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was +to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; +that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was +a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the hoary-headed +miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and better woman. She +was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She would gladly have +had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have already stated, +the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was politic. +The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have +exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often did I +rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew each other! +If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the multitude of a +crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + +The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My +master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the +mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other +slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, +indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + +My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. +She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the +never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not belong to _me_. +She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal right to sell her.” The +conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to _sell_ me; but he had no +scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the +helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter’s +property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be +sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a +life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured +individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into +the house, and make you the companion of my own children?” he would say. +“Have _I_ ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to be +punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense I +get, you ungrateful girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for +screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my +mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! +Don’t cry! don’t cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only +let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know +what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of you. +Now go, and think of all I have promised you.” + +I did think of it. + +Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you +the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast of +Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the +poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s bones, and all +uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give +their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic +notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year +round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The +young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her +happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of +complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they +are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the +flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + +Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many +little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such +children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it +is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into the +slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of +their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + +I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free +those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and their +request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness +of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that +which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered +their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence +took the place of distrust. + +Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, +to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern +ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the +father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself their +master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any decent +society!” + + + + +VII. The Lover. + + +Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine +around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of +violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can +bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!” But +when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery he +causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a +young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that the +dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the +land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + + Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind; + Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind. + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows, + And each is tortured in his separate hell. + +There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born man. +We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together +afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I +loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first love. But when I +reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the +marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but I +knew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to that +arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of opposition, +and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have been delighted +to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have relieved her mind +of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some distant state, but if I +was married near home I should be just as much in her husband’s power as I +had previously been,—for the husband of a slave has no power to protect +her. Moreover, my mistress, like many others, seemed to think that slaves +had no right to any family ties of their own; that they were created merely +to wait upon the family of the mistress. I once heard her abuse a young +slave girl, who told her that a colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I +will have you peeled and pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear you +mention that subject again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending +_my_ children with the children of that nigger?” The girl to whom she said +this had a mulatto child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The +poor black man who loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his +helpless offspring. + +Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss +what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults +that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother about +it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the worst. She +had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her suspicions I +knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all my hopes. + +This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not +bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in +the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who often visited the +house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a +friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great influence +with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I told her I +was aware that my lover’s being a free-born man would prove a great +objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent to that +arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable price. +She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to suggest that +perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that would rid her +of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised to do her +utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the doctor, and I +believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no purpose. + +How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his +presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next +morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in his study.” I +found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who +claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear +calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked +fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, “I have half a mind +to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the silence, and that was a +relief to both of us. + +“So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger +fellow you honor so highly. If you _must_ have a husband, you may take up +with one of my slaves.” + +What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of _his_ slaves, even +if my heart had been interested! + +I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference +about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?” + +“Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight +pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt +above the insults of such puppies.” + +I replied, “If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro +race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you call +a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did not +believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + +He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the +first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my +anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, “You +have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + +There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be +my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I +had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you know what +you have said?” + +“Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + +“Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I can kill +you, if I please?” + +“You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to do +as you like with me.” + +“Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you +forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to +your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne +from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How +would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + +“I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me to +it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me +there than there is here.” + +“You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, that +you would forget the meaning of the word _peace_. It would do you good. It +would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not ready to send +you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my kindness and +forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have wanted to make you +happy, and I have been repaid with the basest ingratitude; but though you +have proved yourself incapable of appreciating my kindness, I will be +lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one more chance to redeem your +character. If you behave yourself and do as I require, I will forgive you +and treat you as I always have done; but if you disobey me, I will punish +you as I would the meanest slave on my plantation. Never let me hear that +fellow’s name mentioned again. If I ever know of your speaking to him, I +will cowhide you both; and if I catch him lurking about my premises, I will +shoot him as soon as I would a dog. Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach you +a lesson about marriage and free niggers! Now go, and let this be the last +time I have occasion to speak to you on this subject.” + +Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I +never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of hell;” and I +believe it is so. + +For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; +to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable +addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base proposals +of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his eyes were +very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly than he +watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to make me +read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange letters +with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I was sorry +for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the house, he +contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better read it, +and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It expressed +regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I myself was +wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the injury I was +doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he had made up his +mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several slaves with him, and +intended I should be one of the number. My mistress would remain where she +was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from that quarter. If I +merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would be lavishly +bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer the following +day. + +The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I +laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my +answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young +mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to +stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his letter, +and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I am your daughter’s +property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, wherever you +please.” He said he was very glad to find me so willing to go, and that we +should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice in the town, and +I rather thought he had made up the story merely to frighten me. However +that might be, I was determined that I would never go to Louisiana with +him. + +Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was sent +to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That news +did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with _him_. +That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, was owing to +the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; and jealousy of +the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me into the fields +to work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these protectors? As for +the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect than I had for a +bloodhound. + +Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I +heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the +corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my +master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I +was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. “When +is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths +and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free man! +that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the street! + +Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no +hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron +will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an +intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission to +marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to +protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the +insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I +knew they must “follow the condition of the mother.” What a terrible blight +that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For _his_ sake, I +felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy destiny. He was +going to Savannah to see about a little property left him by an uncle; and +hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly entreated him not to +come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, where his tongue would +not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of more avail to him. He +left me, still hoping the day would come when I could be bought. With me +the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my girlhood was over. I felt +lonely and desolate. + +Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my +affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into +my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I +still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by +the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden +freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he +would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we could +get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier said +than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no means of +getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she was +strongly opposed to her children’s undertaking any such project. She had +not forgotten poor Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if +another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To +me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, +“William _must_ be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow him.” +Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + + + + +VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + + +Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to +hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small respect +for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I cannot use a +milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they tell their +slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be in the most +deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had seen a runaway +friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to take her back to +her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; that many days she +had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times could get nothing at +all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew her master would not +thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his house. He ended by +saying to me, “This is the punishment she brought on herself for running +away from a kind master.” + +This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New +York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of +such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe +such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such +a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom could +make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and children. +If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as some +Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is more +valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own capabilities, +and exert themselves to become men and women. + +But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into +slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who +strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; +but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general +mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by +favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to _utter_ such sentiments to +their masters. O, that there were more of them! + +Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will +sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and +daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior +order of beings? What would _you_ be, if you had been born and brought up a +slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that the black man +_is_ inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is the ignorance in +which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing whip that lashes +manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the South, and the +scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who enforce the +Fugitive Slave Law. _They_ do the work. + +Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the +Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for them, +such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are +employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud to +do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and +Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance +with their “peculiar institution.” Nor is it enough to be silent. The +masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of +subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they +respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise “a +northern man with southern principles;” and that is the class they +generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very +apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their +neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are +proverbially the hardest masters. + +They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created +the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who “made +of one blood all nations of men!” And then who _are_ Africans? Who can +measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of American +slaves? + +I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad +opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are +aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most +ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; +and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about white +folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom for them. +Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, and that +it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law from going +into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it over. She +said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to the queen +of ’Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn’t believe it, and went +to Washington city to see the president about it. They quarrelled; she drew +her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her to make them all +free. + +That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to +whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate to +Queen Justice. + + + + +IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + + +There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. +Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six +hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive +plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a +whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated +there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his +great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for +murder. + +Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope +round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled +over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, the +scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own +plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. +But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit +managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of +theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who +assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no +inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor’s back turned, than the +accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave +stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection +followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form +was attenuated by hunger and suffering. + +A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the +plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of +wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. +They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled +them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was a +dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + +Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after +nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + +His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His +bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the +slaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, they +literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his +shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. +His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money with me.” + +After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars +were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a +rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his +grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was +found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was +again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were +never discovered. + +Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor of +Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of +intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of +his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front +of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly cold, +and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A member of +the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he might be taken +down; but the master would not relent. He remained there three hours; and, +when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. Another slave, who stole +a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, was terribly flogged. In +desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end of two miles, he was so +faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. He had a wife, and he +longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he crept back that long +distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his master’s, it was +night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He moaned, and tried +to call for help. I had a friend living in the same family. At last his cry +reached her. She went out and found the prostrate man at the gate. She ran +back to the house for assistance, and two men returned with her. They +carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The back of his shirt was one +clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend loosened it from the raw flesh. +She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and left him to rest. The master +said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When his own labor was stolen from +him, he had stolen food to appease his hunger. This was his crime. + +Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there cessation +of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and did not +cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place of +torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old slave +of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s house. ’Pears I can never +get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + +The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her +husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A +slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, +watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay her +dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and dealt two +blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is got you _now_!” She +forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun to talk; and she +said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy did strike ma, so,” striking +her own face with her little hand. The master was startled. He could not +imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the room where the corpse lay; +for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. She confessed that what the +child had said was true, and told how she had procured the key. She was +sold to Georgia. + +In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as +all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. +Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became +involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted +for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the +treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further +infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the woods. +He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half naked, half +starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + +Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to his +master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on bread +and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor +slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have +whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of +the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched +creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with +strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal sooner +than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which was +screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could not +lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread and +bowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The slave +was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to him. + +Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On +the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When +he had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed his +master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that +horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine +into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly eaten +by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had gnawed him +before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often asked each +other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she should ever +hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and knew that +James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the qualities +that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put him into a +rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have been manifested +for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a slave; and the +feeling was that the master had a right to do what he pleased with his own +property. And what did _he_ care for the value of a slave? He had hundreds +of them. When they had finished their daily toil, they must hurry to eat +their little morsels, and be ready to extinguish their pine knots before +nine o’clock, when the overseer went his patrol rounds. He entered every +cabin, to see that men and their wives had gone to bed together, lest the +men, from over-fatigue, should fall asleep in the chimney corner, and +remain there till the morning horn called them to their daily task. Women +are considered of no value, unless they continually increase their owner’s +stock. They are put on a par with animals. This same master shot a woman +through the head, who had run away and been brought back to him. No one +called him to account for it. If a slave resisted being whipped, the +bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon him, to tear his flesh from his +bones. The master who did these things was highly educated, and styled a +perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name and standing of a Christian, +though Satan never had a truer follower. + +I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They +are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane +slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening +influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few and far +between.” + +I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an orphan, +and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father was a +free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and children +living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their mistress +during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which was on the +premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some reality in her +religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and wished them to +enjoy the fruit of their own industry. _Her_ religion was not a garb put on +for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned again. The eldest daughter +of the slave mother was promised in marriage to a free man; and the day +before the wedding this good mistress emancipated her, in order that her +marriage might have the sanction of _law_. + +Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a +man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich +uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a +colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The +metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became his. +She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her marriage might +make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to insure their +happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that she had always +been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any where as with +her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their comfortable home, +and thought that the whole town did not contain a happier family. They had +never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, they were convinced of its +reality. + +When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became +furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for you +now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I have +succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain it for +your children.” The unhappy father swore that nobody should take his +children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but they +were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two oldest +boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service to her +master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were carried to +their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and when the +slaveholder’s wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She knew that her +own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully inculcated. She +had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and his offspring to +his brother. She bore two children to the brother and was sold again. The +next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead drove her mad. +The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before the birth of the +fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered every kindness to +the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. She passed away +peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had been made so +wretched by the man she loved. + +This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve his +affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of drunken +debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good master; for +he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and the lash was +not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. Had it not +been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife a happier +woman. + +No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption +produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of +licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his +sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his +sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with +presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or +starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious +principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good +mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are +dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be +exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + + The poor worm + Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day + Shall pass, and she is gone! + +The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the +unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s daughters +always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs +he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear +their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is +excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young +slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as +should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the +woman slaves are subject to their father’s authority in all things; and in +some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have +myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in +shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected +one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first +grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her +father’s more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over +whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her +father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending +black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had +given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + +In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by +any who know its history. But if the white parent is the _father_, instead +of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the market. If +they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be their +inevitable destiny. + +You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was +twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own +experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well +as to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons +violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives +wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to +describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their degradation. + +Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin +occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton +crops—not of the blight on their children’s souls. + +If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a +southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be +no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you +impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + + + + +X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + + +After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to have +an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the +blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me, +in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I was +constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a home +of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded +fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had high +words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly what she +thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in the +neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs. +Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build a +house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I +was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon +heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I +would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till +dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day, +through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I so +hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made my +life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at last +in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any thing, every thing, +for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? I thought and thought, +till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss. + +And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would +gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. +It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, +and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to +screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not +so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master +had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the +pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my +childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that +they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, +concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with +deliberate calculation. + +But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, who +have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes are +protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely! +If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the man of my +choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I should have +been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate; +but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myself +pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard to preserve +my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of the +demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I was +forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be frustrated; and I +became reckless in my despair. + +I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy had +given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced +that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the +circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often +spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked questions +about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great deal of +sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities to see +me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only fifteen years +old. + +So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for +human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, and +encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have such a +friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He was an +educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor slave +girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was tending. I +knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of interest to a +man who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to the +pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her any +pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one’s self, than to +submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in having a lover +who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and +attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare +not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried +man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry +in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of +morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible. + +When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage, +other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and calculations +of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude for +kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as to know that I +favored another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even in +that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I was +sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a man of more generosity +and feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easily +obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came so near that I was +desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that should +be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, his +victims were sold far off to get rid of them; especially if they had +children. I had seen several women sold, with babies at the breast. He +never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of himself +and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I could ask to have my +children well supported; and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain +the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all +these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping +the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon +me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be +entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the +condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You never +exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding the power of a +hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps, and +trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feel +it more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will haunt +me to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of my +life, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same +standard as others. + +The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over the +sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me from +harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that it +was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most of +the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of her +love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + +As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the +thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended +arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the cottage +was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enter +it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go, if +you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + +I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + +He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a +word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the +truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble +as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how +could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved +that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, “Let the storm +beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, how humiliated I felt! + +I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words +stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and began +to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. The +mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for her +children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily +expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a +sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this +well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. +Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerning +her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened, +believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O Linda! Has it come to this? I had +rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace to +your dead mother.” She tore from my fingers my mother’s wedding ring and +her silver thimble. “Go away!” she exclaimed, “and never come to my house, +again.” Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance +to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only +answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not +speak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they +scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I +longed to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had +ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, I +mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now +close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in my +childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before. + +Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on +recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I had +gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the +stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me. +How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, and +as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank +on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; but +the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself, +and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been a +friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly +to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I +could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to +her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had +been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend +advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passed +before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt +before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long I +had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in an hour of +extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her I +would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining +her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead mother’s sake. And +she did pity me. She did not say, “I forgive you;” but she looked at me +lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my +head, and murmured, “Poor child! Poor child!” + + + + +XI. The New Tie To Life. + + +I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with Mr. +Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe +lamb,—whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about +character,—he made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He +promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they +might. + +I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made +the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how I +had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He +intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could +have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he have +offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the cause of +my sin! + +“Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for +you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellow +you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, you +shall feel the fires of hell.” + +I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was +gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his +abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had +always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for _him_ I might +have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. “I have +sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against you.” + +He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, with +ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could grind your +bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal. +You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who don’t care +a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. You are +blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master was your +best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have punished +you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under the lash. +But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. Others +cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, +forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the +present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + +He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. +After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and +who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; that +as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained to +me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. He +ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. “I command you,” said he, “to +tell me whether the father of your child is white or black.” I hesitated. +“Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me +like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. “Do you love +him?” said he, in a hissing tone. + +“I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + +He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what +arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he +spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; but +your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good +intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from killing +you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + +But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. +You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of +your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from +him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this at +once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act of +mercy I shall show towards you.” + +I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man +who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to my +level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last time, +would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + +“Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward course. +Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. +I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + +Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had +calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew +the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + +About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The +day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. +My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray +it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My +heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives +that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us +know what a year may bring forth. + +I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, +though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last +consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had +done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! +The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps your mother and +father are taken from the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart could +now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives ever +cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of +slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had +experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I +should escape? + +My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in +mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was +unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I +would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, +they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered +the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He +had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + +When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four +pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive +till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, +unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leave +my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcely +a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was sickly. His +little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits, +to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child was +an addition to his stock of slaves. + +I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in +silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not +remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the +medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and +of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, +cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my +brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not seen +him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreaded +the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but I was +nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William with a +note. The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; and he +said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him +I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master’s +will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to +know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a +passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual +themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The +laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated that +my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would be +addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me; but I +saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. The manifestation of +feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One +morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and that +circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He was +put in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a +request to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called his +insolence. He said he had put him there, to reflect upon his bad conduct, +and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he +harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thing +went wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his old +stand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior. + +As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old, +they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my +existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain. +When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I loved to +watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over my +enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished +that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. The +bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold that +I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but +never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. +Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying +child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I +had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated him +kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he +should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had +bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a +new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the +serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + + + + +XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + + +Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the news +threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, +when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + +It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion +every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called +country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their places +in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without hats. +This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were told there +was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. Poor creatures! +They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed of the true state +of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I +have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. All could not be relied +on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + +By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles +of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it would +be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing annoyed them +so much as to see colored people living in comfort and respectability; so I +made arrangements for them with especial care. I arranged every thing in my +grandmother’s house as neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, +and decorated some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I sat +down at the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on a +motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. +The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. +Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherever +a colored face was to be found. + +It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their +own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief +authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting +that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves in +poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed such +scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on +innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the slightest +ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts +of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchers +scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other parties +to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were plotting +insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped till the +blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes; +others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking paddle, which +blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored people, unless +they happened to be protected by some influential white person, who was +nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else the marauders +thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling wretches went +round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At +night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they +chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women +hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of the +husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public +whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. The +consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest tinge of +color in their faces dared to be seen talking together. + +I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in the +midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive the +soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp of +feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in they +tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing within +their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a thorough +examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver change was +eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one of +the soldiers turned and said angrily, “What d’ye foller us fur? D’ye s’pose +white folks is come to steal?” + +I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I +will take it, if you please.” + +At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I called +to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till the +search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house brought +in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the outside +of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This officer was +Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the account of +neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He felt above +soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, if a bit of +writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant followers, +who were unable to read. + +My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that was +opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, “Where’d +the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + +My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector said, +“You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from _your_ houses.” + +“Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you seem +to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White folks +oughter have ’em all.” + +His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got ’em! +We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + +There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, +proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my +things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their +contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. +I told him it was one of my friends. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I +told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. “Bring +me all your letters!” said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had none. +“Don’t be afraid,” he continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them all to +me. Nobody shall do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey him, his +pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? half free +niggers?” inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are from white +people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I +destroy without reading.” + +An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our +conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet +had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving +fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; +consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained +these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was +helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, “Wal +done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when dey +live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take the +jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats.” + +“And what _were_ we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. I +evaded the question. + +The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. +They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, +with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a +short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of the +gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the house. +He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its inmates +receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very fortunately; +not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + +Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by +drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually +rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window +curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white +man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not +stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored +minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his wife +had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to shoot +him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized +country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the +administrators of justice! + +The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the +innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by +keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white +citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless rabble +they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, drove +them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + +The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people +that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed +with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw +horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled +by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail +yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with +brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not +fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the +conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even +heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a +story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + +The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was +substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or +free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture of +Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their +masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. +Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the +privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their +burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had +no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour +out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the +church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a +certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, +when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction had +been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored friends.” +They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in +commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, +and all ye are brethren.” + + + + +XIII. The Church And Slavery. + + +After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the +slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the +slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their +masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on +Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also very +respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight with him. The +difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The +Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their +carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. +It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free colored +man, who was a member. + +I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, +trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by +daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to encounter +Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his office to +inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. When the +Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The reverend +gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all present, +who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the portions he +wished them to repeat or respond to. + +His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters +according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your +heart, as unto Christ.” + +Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, +solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my words. +You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner of evil. +’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will surely +punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You that live in town +are eyeservants behind your master’s back. Instead of serving your masters +faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly Master, you are +idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. God hears you. +Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden away somewhere, +feasting on your master’s substance; tossing coffee-grounds with some +wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with another old hag. Your masters +may not find you out, but God sees you, and will punish you. O, the +depravity of your hearts! When your master’s work is done, are you quietly +together, thinking of the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No; you +are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of roots to bury under the +doorsteps to poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away to +every grog shop to sell your master’s corn, that you may buy rum to drink. +God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, to +pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you out, God sees you; +and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful ways, and be faithful +servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your old mistress and +your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, you offend your +heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When you go from here, +don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go directly home, and +let your master and mistress see that you have come.” + +The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother +Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the +next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last +discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found +it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should be glad +to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + +I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for the +last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that the +kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since its +present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but pine +knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from his +comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist +shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious +meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than +sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded +Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + +The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not +trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following +verses: + + Old Satan is one busy ole man; + He rolls dem blocks all in my way; + But Jesus is my bosom friend; + He rolls dem blocks away. + + If I had died when I was young, + Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung; + But I am ole, and now I stand + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land. + +I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I +went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved +mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the +town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his brethren +and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or out of +jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for fifty +cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and said to +the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t you tell us how the Lord deals with your +soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?” + +She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, help +me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and I am +left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, she continued, “I +can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all my children. Last week they +took the last one. God only knows where they’ve sold her. They let me have +her sixteen years, and then—O! O! Pray for her brothers and sisters! I’ve +got nothing to live for now. God make my time short!” + +She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader +become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his +handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman’s calamity +might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the +bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his +divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!” + +The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as +the birds that warbled round us,— + + Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim; + He missed my soul, and caught my sins. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + He took my sins upon his back; + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + + Ole Satan’s church is here below. + Up to God’s free church I hope to go. + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! + +Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at +such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing +and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, +under constant dread of the lash? + +The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had been +a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was large, +that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different clergyman +took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored people, who +said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved him, and their +children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the slaveholders +felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. His wife taught +them to read and write, and to be useful to her and themselves. As soon as +he was settled, he turned his attention to the needy slaves around him. He +urged upon his parishioners the duty of having a meeting expressly for them +every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their comprehension. After much +argument and importunity, it was finally agreed that they might occupy the +gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hitherto +unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to hear the gospel preached. +The sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was the +first time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not long +before his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was accused of +preaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. He honestly +confessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons than upon any +others; for the slaves were reared in such ignorance that it was a +difficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. Dissensions arose +in the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them in the evening, and to +the slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of these disputings his wife +died, after a very short illness. Her slaves gathered round her dying bed +in great sorrow. She said, “I have tried to do you good and promote your +happiness; and if I have failed, it has not been for want of interest in +your welfare. Do not weep for me; but prepare for the new duties that lie +before you. I leave you all free. May we meet in a better world.” Her +liberated slaves were sent away, with funds to establish them comfortably. +The colored people will long bless the memory of that truly Christian +woman. Soon after her death her husband preached his farewell sermon, and +many tears were shed at his departure. + +Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former +congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. “My +friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity of +speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do something +for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet accomplished. I +have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live according to the word +of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; but God judges men by +their hearts, not by the color of their skins.” This was strange doctrine +from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to slaveholders. They said he +and his wife had made fools of their slaves, and that he preached like a +fool to the negroes. + +I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were +beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist +church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he should +know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He came to +me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for he had no +money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it came. I +asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and that slaves were +whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This brought the +tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle Fred,” said I. “I have no +thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, that you +might know the danger, and be on your guard.” He thought he could plan to +come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a quiet +nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught him his +A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as he +could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. The +happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spelling +out a few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it ’pears when I can read dis +good book I shall be nearer to God. White man is got all de sense. He can +larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man like me. I only wants to read +dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I hab no fear ’bout dying.” + +I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. +“Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + +I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness imparted, were +more than a recompense for all my trouble. + +At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could +find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, +“Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + +“Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I +don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I reads. +And he _does_ help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + +There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the water +of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They send +the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am glad +that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask them +not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American slaveholders as +you talk to savages in Africa. Tell _them_ it was wrong to traffic in men. +Tell them it is sinful to sell their own children, and atrocious to violate +their own daughters. Tell them that all men are brethren, and that man has +no right to shut out the light of knowledge from his brother. Tell them +they are answerable to God for sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls +that are thirsting for it. + +There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; but, +alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would be +driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been +before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. +Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to +them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the +prison and the scourge. + +Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are +the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the +poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so _easily_ +blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has usually +some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The slaveholder +suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes himself as +agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred topics. The +reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table loaded with +luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees the beautiful +groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of favored household +slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with those slaves. He asks them +if they want to be free, and they say, “O, no, massa.” This is sufficient +to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a “South Side View of Slavery,” +and to complain of the exaggerations of abolitionists. He assures people +that he has been to the south, and seen slavery for himself; that it is a +beautiful “patriarchal institution;” that the slaves don’t want their +freedom; that they have hallelujah meetings and other religious privileges. + +What does _he_ know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till +dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn from +their arms by slave-traders? of young girls dragged down into moral filth? +of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained to tear human +flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The slaveholder showed him +none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell of them if he had asked +them. + +There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the south. +If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the treasury of +the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious. +If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the church dismiss him, +if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it does not hinder his +continuing to be their good shepherd. + +When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much +surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the character +of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after he was a +communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had been +confirmed, certainly gave _me_ no indication that he had “renounced the +devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his usual talk, I reminded +him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, Linda,” said he. “It was +proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my position in society +requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned slang. You would do well +to join the church, too, Linda.” + +“There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be +allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + +“You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as +virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + +I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + +His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about your +infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my negro, to +talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn’t like? I am your +master, and you shall obey me.” + +No wonder the slaves sing,— + + Ole Satan’s church is here below; + Up to God’s free church I hope to go. + + + + +XIV. Another Link To Life. + + +I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. The +old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his +wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came +back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a +season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about his +forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to convince +me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no need of +descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious babe was +the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent contempt when +he talked about my having forfeited _his_ good opinion; but I shed bitter +tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. +Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance for +me to be respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a better +life. + +Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he +called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps that +will humble you,” said he. + +Humble _me_! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated my +heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders have +been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the condition of +the _mother_,” not of the _father_, thus taking care that licentiousness +shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made me clasp my innocent +babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid visions passed through my mind +when I thought of his liability to fall into the slave-trader’s hands. I +wept over him, and said, “O my child! perhaps they will leave you in some +cold cabin to die, and then throw you into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + +When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated +beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of +shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of +arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and +swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. +Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and +the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in +bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I swear by God I will never raise +my hand against you again;” but I knew that he would forget his promise. + +After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the +pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can +describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too +revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s knowledge as much as +I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my +troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and heard +him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man’s tongue, she could not +always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should try to +defend me; but it only made matters worse. + +When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than it +had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more +terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, _they_ have +wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + +Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this +new crime against _him_, as he called it; and as long as he had me in his +power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, he +entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to +him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare some +nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took up my +babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now stand there,” said he, +“till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a strong resemblance to her +father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed this; +and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped upon me +and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the +grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his +vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He +took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my +face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness +before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he +hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but +I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There +was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I +was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to +life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived +only nineteen years. + +Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. +Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I dared +not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted at +their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we +resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away +from us. + +My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having +the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not +venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a +patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. “Now is +the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the children to church, and +have them christened.” + +When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I +felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without any +reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal rights as +slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to _her_, and +she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, to know under +what different circumstances her grandchildren were presented for baptism. +Why had my lot been so different from my mother’s? _Her_ master had died +when she was a child; and she remained with her mistress till she married. +She was never in the power of any master; and thus she escaped one class of +the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + +When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father +stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I +added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for +my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled +skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified +me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + +When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home +with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her for +this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be +fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly +I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s chain, whose +iron entereth into the soul! + + + + +XV. Continued Persecutions. + + +My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an +exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of +these days.” + +I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into +his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them +given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children +could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. +Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my +friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to +leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with +nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. +“Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and +I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her paramour. If +so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; neither can he +buy her children.” + +The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he +entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He +seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had +learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide +her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now nearly +five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad man come here so many +times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp the dear boy in my arms, +trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the +problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child +left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. +“So you are left in disgust, are you?” said he. “It is no more than I +expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. +So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don’t like to hear +about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” There was a sting in his calling me +virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had +formerly done. He continued: “So it seems you are trying to get up another +intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you may +be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine for +life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I would +have done it; but you rejected my kind offer.” + +I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen the +man who offered to buy me. + +“Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will you +say again that you never saw that man?” + +I answered, “I do say so.” + +He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told +him to go to his grandmother. + +“Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew nearer +to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was +too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the +room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + +“Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + +“Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” I +struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the door, +and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I turned my +tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so pale and +still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t know whether I was +very happy. All the doctor’s former persecutions were renewed. He came +morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a rival more +closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with whom he +accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother was out of +the way he searched every room to find him. + +In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold to +a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her because +she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter life with +him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near ties. She had +been torn from all her family years before. A few friends had entered into +bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to spend with them the +time that intervened between her sale and the gathering up of his human +stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense of +board and jail fees, and though the amount was small, it was a weighty +consideration in a slave-trader’s mind. + +Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. +He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she +took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His +gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. +“How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What right had you to allow it, +when you knew I had sold her?” + +I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. I +have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest +purposes.” + +He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been +his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud voices, +and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to +let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook +to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher and +higher, and finally boiled over in words. “Get out of my house!” she +exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will +have enough to do, without watching my family.” + +He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of +sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by +compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the one to +blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and +more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” said she, “you +ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be saying your prayers. +It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your soul.” + +“Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + +She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + +He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes +met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and +weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen her +love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, always +ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace and +contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon Slavery. + +The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; and +when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also. +My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was dreaming of +freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I planned and I +planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of overcoming +them; and yet I hoped. + +Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had +invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great +consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my +grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I +was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend’s house. +They sent me a dark wrapper, I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did +not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but +I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the doctor +came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did not +believe me, and sent to my friend’s house to ascertain the facts. He came +in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. +He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. +“I suppose you need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised at your +being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for _you_. Are you +_allowed_ to visit such people?” + +I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; +but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any company they +keep is good enough for me.” + +He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my interest +in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on you I was +rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself and your +children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to what I am +about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no +communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a +cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be +light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda—a +home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you +at times, your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from +my own children, and I consider you as yet a child.” + +He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. “Why don’t you speak?” +said he. “What more do you wait for?” + +“Nothing, sir.” + +“Then you accept my offer?” + +“No, sir.” + +His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and +replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there +are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will be +obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you and +your children shall be sent to your young master’s plantation, there to +remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall fare +like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider it.” + +He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready +to give my answer now. + +“I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from impulse. +Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you +choose.” + +On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my +master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be +impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he +gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. +The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But +then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect +was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare +me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, +and my weakness would be his triumph. + +Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be +married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy +in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for +punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very +soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and +save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to +myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I would +not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + +On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise +choice. + +“I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + +“Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” said +he. + +I told him I had. + +“Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he replied. +“Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl +shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!” He left +the room with curses, not to be repeated. + +As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, child, +what did you tell him?” + +I answered that I was going to the plantation. + +“_Must_ you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + +I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She +said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how faithfully +she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own baby from her +breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been out of the family +so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them for my time, and +the money would procure a woman who had more strength for the situation +than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in saying, “He will +listen to _me_, Linda.” She went, and was treated as I expected. He coolly +listened to what she said, but denied her request. He told her that what he +did was for my good, that my feelings were entirely above my situation, and +that on the plantation I would receive treatment that was suitable to my +behavior. + +My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight +my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for my +children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter +dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had a +determined will. There is might in each. + + + + +XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + + +Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. My +boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old +wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to +be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the +time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what +purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far +as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short +as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow him +up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left below in +the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so carefully +tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the yard. This was +kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My task was to fit +up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst of sheets, +tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as busy planning, +as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. +She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbor, “I’ve +got her down here, and I’ll soon take the town notions out of her head. My +father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her in +long ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have been +quite as manly to have made it to my face. He _had_ said things to my face +which might, or might not, have surprised his neighbor if he had known of +them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + +I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, +so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness +before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it would +be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily saw him +beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed by the +lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much more +must I suffer, before I should be “broke in” to that degree? + +I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an opportunity +to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections that made it +difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my lot. +Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a +suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. +Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and +in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where I +was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart bleed. I +was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked +out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in search +of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I looked +under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and drew her +out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for her if +she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled to hear +some one say, “Did you speak to me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. Flint +standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, away. +That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This +generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he had +killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed that +incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + +The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put +Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to +have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required +attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware +that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + +I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It +must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, +and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, +often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we +started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing +the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her bed room was on the first +floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and +she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by +should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round +me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and +thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. As +I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother is +here.” After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and he +sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that it +was I, he exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dad, are you? They didn’t cut off +your head at the plantation, did they?” + +My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny back +in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. Rapidly we +retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we were met by a +company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s hoofs before they +came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large tree. They passed, +hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a recent carousal. How +thankful we were that they had not their dogs with them! We hastened our +footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we heard the sound of the +hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We were safely in the house +before the horn summoned them to their labor. I divided my little parcel of +food with my guide, knowing that he had lost the chance of grinding his +corn, and must toil all day in the field. + +Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was +idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew +nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented +himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the +necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, and +make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to consent +to that arrangement. + +When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. +Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty +dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she +stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we all +called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such occasions +the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups and silver +spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot muffins, +tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two cows, and the +fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s delight. She invariably declared that it was +the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times together. They would work +and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles +would get dim with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When +Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled with grandmother’s best +cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + +There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with us, and +when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt Marthy’s” nice +cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was +angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She +would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother’s +feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had +nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor’s wife would gladly have +prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but +fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had +enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from +charity, however lavish it may be. + +Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to +see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the +house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had many +talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see how I +was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She inquired +whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. She +condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and all +my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for not until then +should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I +was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my +children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + +Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the +town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for +myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity +could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved +abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp +upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my helpless +children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the boon would +have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have taken it at the +expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, every sacrifice +I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and gave me fresh +courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in a +seemingly endless night of storms. + +The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was expected to +take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, and +Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, and +return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various +orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It +was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever +asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than one +night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday +would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A +calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a +day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever +spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last +talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! +Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, +better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom that +awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from it, or +perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my poor +parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There the wicked cease from +troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest +together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free +from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as +I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or +to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother’s blessing when she died; +and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, +sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded +heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone from +my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as I +remembered my mother. + +The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke +the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My spirit +was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years I had +frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as now. A +black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all that remained of a +tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small wooden board, +bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly obliterated. I knelt +down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to God for guidance and +support in the perilous step I was about to take. As I passed the wreck of +the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner’s time, the slaves had been +allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my father’s voice come from +it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached freedom or the grave. I rushed +on with renovated hopes. My trust in God had been strengthened by that +prayer among the graves. + +My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a +few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get +discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently +finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I +knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children +comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was +packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I +was doing. “I am putting my things in order,” I replied. I tried to look +and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the +surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked +earnestly at me, and said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old +grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old +now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you.” + +I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to +secure their freedom. + +“Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your own +children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who +forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy +moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to +live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be +dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a +little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + +My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that +faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I +would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + +Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, +she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She +don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to +reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I +loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was the +last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + +On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with preparations +for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful day, and the +faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor creatures were +merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, and hoping for +better times under her administration. I had no such hopes for them. I knew +that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their authority and +importance would be best established and maintained by cruelty; and what I +had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to expect that her rule +over them would be less severe than that of the master and overseer. Truly, +the colored race are the most cheerful and forgiving people on the face of +the earth. That their masters sleep in safety is owing to their +superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon their sufferings with less +pity than they would bestow on those of a horse or a dog. + +I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She +was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion at +sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy future +were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds would +come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and told me +she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid old Mrs. +Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to please +her. + +All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind +the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my +life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who +would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not +made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting the +house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I had +no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, considered +my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing could please +her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was just where she +would have me—in the power of a hard, unprincipled master. She did not +speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her satisfied, triumphant +smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent than words. The old +doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and +there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said “your _mistress_.” I +was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all was over, and the last key +turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God had appointed a season of +rest for the weary. + +The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly +appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday +evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received +their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and +perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound +and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. +Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The +meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on +planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the +building, and when the first foreman called out, “Who takes this piece of +meat?” he answered by calling somebody’s name. This method was resorted to +as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young +mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she +soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their +allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family +through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the +mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were +too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered +much before he found rest in the grave. + +My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old +Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her +daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the +conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could leave the +plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. If +she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have had +no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage to +return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, “Don’t neglect to send for them +as quick as possible.” My heart was on the watch all the time, and I at +once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next day, +and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, “Don’t +wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. They +thought my children’s being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it +was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as +slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always +manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. +Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor +performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half +famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and +the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was ordered to +carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, how do you +like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I expected. He +replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow they are going +to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. I hope +they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable to thank him. +My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought to the +plantation to be “broke in.” + +To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely +information. It nerved me to immediate action. + + + + +XVII. The Flight. + + +Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he +had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of course, +with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave them. Mr. +Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of the +servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I mustn’t +bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on her +carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a +thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. I +therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as I +was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in their +power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to leave +them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon my dear +old grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children would +have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening work with +trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to inquire +why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. +“You have had time enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you answer +me!” + +I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third +story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how +fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost +need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I +failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made +to suffer for my fault. + +At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second +floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and +looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see +nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of +rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, +and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped my +way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning speed. I +arrived at my grandmother’s house, but dared not see her. She would say, +“Linda, you are killing me;” and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped +softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had lived in the +house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and could be trusted +with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she +raised the window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run away. Let me in, +quick.” She opened the door softly, and said in low tones, “For God’s sake, +don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and de chillern. Mr. Sands was +here last week. He tole her he was going away on business, but he wanted +her to go ahead about buying you and de chillern, and he would help her all +he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all bowed down wid +trouble now.” + +I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation +to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have +me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + +“No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t want +de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery +inch ob dis house.” + +I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to +know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all +my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint and +the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the sight of +my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not go into +the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed where lay +my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and +motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to +them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I +knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, +and turned away. + +As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my shoulder, +and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your uncle.” + +“No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my +account.” + +I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house +of the friend who was to conceal me. + +Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring for me. +She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He +watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any thing about her +running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, “Last +night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very +kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are her +children with you?” When told that they were, he said, “I am very glad to +hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that any +of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I’ll give +’em five hundred lashes.” As he started to go to his father’s, he turned +round and added, persuasively, “Let her be brought back, and she shall have +her children to live with her.” + +The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a +busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top to bottom. +As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. +Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, +and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night +a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would +be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one who +went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he would +take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of course +she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before night, the +following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in every public +place for miles round:— + +$300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto +girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, +and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a decayed +spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability will +try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of +law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes +her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered to me, +or lodged in jail. + +Dr. Flint. + + + + +XVIII. Months Of Peril. + + +The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had +anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great +anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the +consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even +that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness +to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into +such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my +hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of +bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a +reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which +loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so +dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and +slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was +compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into +the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my +look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and +vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The +application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread +of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend +asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the +bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in +vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed +part.[1] + +[Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is counteracted +by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. The Indians are +accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie. White +men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammonia +with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.] + +I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. They +were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape, +they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let him +make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. When I +started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come what +would, there should be no turning back. “Give me liberty, or give me +death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my +relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they +said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and +that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in his +mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + +Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had +known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had +also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At +this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not +unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her face, +and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My +grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt Martha,” +said the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something +to help you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and +sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated +them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was +unlike the majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked +earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said +“Trust me!” and she did trust her. She listened attentively to +the details of my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, +“Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda’s +getting to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you +must solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a +thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in my +house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I would +trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a great risk; +but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to be ready as soon +as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send the housemaids on +errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” The place where we were to meet +was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother was unable to thank the lady +for this noble deed; overcome by her emotions, she sank on her knees and +sobbed like a child. + +I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go to +a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of +prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was +to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, but +I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I disguised +myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the appointed +place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I expected to +see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so intense that it +seemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We reached the house +and entered unobserved. Her first words were: “Honey, now you is safe. Dem +devils ain’t coming to search _dis_ house. When I get you into missis’ safe +place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis +skeering.” Betty’s vocation led her to think eating the most important +thing in life. She did not realize that my heart was too full for me to +care much about supper. + +The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over her +own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said she; “I keep +this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not +accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless +they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care of +the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; and +you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I will +keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to bring +your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till night. +I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state +of things will not last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot supper,” and +the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she +returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my +throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed +of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + +I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the +most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with +light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my +window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie +perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. +Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of +satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed +over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly +compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed +against the strength of their tyrants. + +I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew +who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for revenge +than he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who had served +in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who was a +little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of compelling +my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my grandmother +should never see one of them again till I was brought back. They kept these +facts from me for several days. When I heard that my little ones were in a +loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. I was encountering +dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the cause of their +death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by +telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children while they +remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, +who had always been so kind to her sister’s orphan children, should be shut +up in prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends +feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life +was bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It +was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you are, dear sister, I beg +of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. If you +come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where you had +been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; if not for +the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of those you would +ruin.” + +Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice +and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, +because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being +her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and eat +it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he +could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me +tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold +them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she repeated +their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would +flow. Old Betty would exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying ’bout? Dem +young uns vil kill you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If you does, you +vil nebber git thro’ dis world.” + +Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had +little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their +soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; +she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that +even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my +feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had +denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with +the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. +Flint’s. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, +and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home +to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and his +wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen cried +all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true. +She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs. +Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, Bill, +carry this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she would be +quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handy +waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her +white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the +doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for their +mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running away. She +hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its calf. If she +had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of jail, and save +all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! When she is +caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, and then be +sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What do you stand +there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off with the brat? Mind, now, that you +don’t let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!” + +When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying +that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself +there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as +one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried +back to jail. + +That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till +near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the house, and +thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with Linda.” He +knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so early?” said he. “I +saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I have +found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I shall +have her before twelve o’clock.” When he had turned away, my grandmother +and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know whether or +not it was merely one of the doctor’s tricks to frighten them. In their +uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed to my +friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of +me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. We +hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked the +door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of +carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. “Stay +dar,” said she, “till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey vil put +thar hans on you afore twelve o’clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, dey +won’t know _now_. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s all I got to say. If +dey comes rummagin ’mong _my_ tings, de’ll get one bressed sarssin from dis +’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to bring my +hands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty walked over me +twenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the fireplace. When +she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas over Dr. Flint and +all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a chuckling laugh, “Dis +nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the housemaids were about, she +had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might hear what they would say. +She would repeat stories she had heard about my being in this, or that, or +the other place. To which they would answer, that I was not fool enough to +be staying round there; that I was in Philadelphia or New York before this +time. When all were abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said, +“Come out, chile; come out. Dey don’t know nottin ’bout you. Twas only +white folks’ lies, to skeer de niggers.” + +Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very +still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my mind. +I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing to +sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my +discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that +chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too +dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the +house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in +terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the +constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I +did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It +seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and that +was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heard +approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself +against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there +stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, and +sunk down upon the floor. + +“I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing you +would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may +even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He is so sure you +are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in +pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has +obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the +present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket +hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + + + + +XIX. The Children Sold. + + +The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his +purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. +My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also +was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on his +discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine hundred +dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two children. +These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the offer was +rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor would have +sold any boy of Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he could not bear +to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed for money, and he +revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he could keep Ellen till +she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; but I presume he +reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At all events, he +came to the conclusion that he had better accept the slave-trader’s offer. +Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would leave town. “To-day, +at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do you go so soon?” said the doctor. “I +have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have concluded to let you +have the three negroes if you will say nineteen hundred dollars.” After +some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He wanted the bill of sale +drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great deal to attend to during +the short time he remained in town. The doctor went to the jail and told +William he would take him back into his service if he would promise to +behave himself but he replied that he would rather be sold. “And you +_shall_ be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed the doctor. In less than +an hour the money was paid, the papers were signed, sealed, and delivered, +and my brother and children were in the hands of the trader. + +It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s +characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, +“Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not to +sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come too late,” replied the +trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in fact, already sold them to Mr. +Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons on +“that rascal, Bill,” and to pass through the back streets when he took his +gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to his +wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, +supposing them to be the speculator’s property, and that she should never +see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want +to show you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row of +marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for every +day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and the +speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. It’s wrong +for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my mother.” + +My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but she +was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. Accordingly, +she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When she arrived, she +found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children in the trader’s +cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was afraid there might +have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and was carried home. + +When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and +proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without +stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that +drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not +where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look +upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and +cries of despair. + +Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and +Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going +“as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to agreement, my +uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. +There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, +“You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them +gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I +must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, and +call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he’ll never git +their mammy back again. I expect she’s made tracks for the north. Good by, +old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must thank me by +coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That’s going to be my +last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a fellow that’s +got any heart. Move on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, God alone knows +where. + +Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as +the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that he +seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, and +wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was willing +to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even without charging the +customary fee. + +My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to +town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were +closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little +ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their +hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt +prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and +though such a “parental relation” as existed between him and my children +takes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be +that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness he +had imparted. + +I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day had +not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that happened +to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the superstition of +slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the window, where I could +hear much that was said in the street without being seen. The family had +retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there thinking of my +children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of serenaders were +under the window, playing “Home, sweet home.” I listened till the sounds +did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. It seemed as if +my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and knelt. A streak +of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst of it appeared +the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen them +distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not how to +account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt +certain something had happened to my little ones. + +I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the key. +As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know +whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen +their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. +“Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, “you’s got de +high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll make a noise, and +ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done cryin, +I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed ’em +myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear +you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no +sleep would come to my eyelids. + +At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the +vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a while +I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I recognized +the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda Brent’s children +was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa Flint was mighty +glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say they’ve come back agin. I +’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They say he’s bought William too. +Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I’m going roun’ to aunt +Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + +I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my children +with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? The +suspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me the truth +about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had overheard. +Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish ting!” said she. +“I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is eating thar breakfast, and +missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! t’aint right to keep +you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell you. Brudder, chillern, all is bought +by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan nuff, tinking ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, +how he _vill_ swar! He’s got ketched dis time, any how; but I must be +getting out o’ dis, or dem gals vill come and ketch _me_.” + +Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my +children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + +Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had +returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and many +a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + +Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of my +children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I am glad +to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. +You need never expect to see _her_ free. She shall be my slave as long as I +live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. If I ever +find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running off I’ll +kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to look at +me, I’ll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out of my +sight!” + +As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his +own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to +strike her to the ground. + +I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my +childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old +doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The +darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery +might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, my +little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart believed +all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better to trust +than to doubt. + + + + +XX. New Perils. + + +The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on +my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my +flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew nothing +of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I left my +master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give bail for +five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. Several +gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him he had +better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without giving +bail. + +The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to +Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the +floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her culinary +duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention that I +should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s imprisonment would +last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. Flint would +do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my uncle might lose +control of himself, and retort in some way that would be construed into a +punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court his word would not +be taken against any white man’s. The search for me was renewed. Something +had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They searched the house +I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At night, when all were +asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of confinement. The fright I +had undergone, the constrained posture, and the dampness of the ground, +made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon after taken out of prison; +but the movements of all my relatives, and of all our friends, were very +closely watched. + +We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already +staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of +perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends had +laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my persecutors +made it impossible to carry them into effect. + +One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my +room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it +was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some +noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend +came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. “I knows who it +was,” said she. “Tend upon it, ’twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de +debble in her.” I suggested that she might have seen or heard something +that excited her curiosity. + +“Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn +notin’. She only ’spects something. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who +hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. I’ll +git missis to fix her.” + +I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + +“Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat +’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + +She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep +Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her +he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I +was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any +where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my +situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for +me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took +Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a +kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I +never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling +fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + +I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of +sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a small +bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, she +exclaimed, “I’se _so_ glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t forget ole +Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + +I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness. But she +interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help you, +and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine wid you to de +lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de +sailors.” + +I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young colored +man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an apprentice +to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not afraid to +trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked off. “Take +courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got a dagger, and no man shall +take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body.” + +It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh air +revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me above +a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not recognize +me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter’s sake, as well as +my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked on till we +came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband was a seafaring man, and it had +been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me into his boat, +rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on board. We three +were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to ask what they +proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board till near dawn, +and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle Phillip had +prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been bound north, +it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly have been +searched. About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, and rowed +three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased by the +venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. But +I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the best that my +poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + +Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and +briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried +me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered +with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time they had so poisoned my flesh +that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw snake +after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of snakes +all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To this day I +shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, the number of +snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to thrash them +with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos were so high +and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very short distance. +Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to the entrance of the +swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the boat. It was not long +before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low whistle, which had been +agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter the boat, and were rowed +back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; for the heat of the swamp, +the mosquitos, and the constant terror of snakes, had brought on a burning +fever. I had just dropped asleep, when they came and told me it was time to +go back to that horrid swamp. I could scarcely summon courage to rise. But +even those large, venomous snakes were less dreadful to my imagination than +the white men in that community called civilized. This time Peter took a +quantity of tobacco to burn, to keep off the mosquitos. It produced the +desired effect on them, but gave me nausea and severe headache. At dark we +returned to the vessel. I had been so sick during the day, that Peter +declared I should go home that night, if the devil himself was on patrol. +They told me a place of concealment had been provided for me at my +grandmother’s. I could not imagine how it was possible to hide me in her +house, every nook and corner of which was known to the Flint family. They +told me to wait and see. We were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the +streets, to my grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s clothes, and had blackened +my face with charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of +my children came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea +who it was. + +“You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you may +not have another very soon.” + +I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me what +a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + + + + +XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + + +A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some +boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards and +the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats and +mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according to +the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet long +and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down +abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light +or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a +concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been +doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a +piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The air +was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. I +could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden that +I could not turn on my other without hitting the roof. The rats and mice +ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the wretched +may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it only by +the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the same. I +suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not comfortless. I +heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there was sadness in the +sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to them! I was eager to +look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, through which I could +peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It seemed horrible to sit or +lie in a cramped position day after day, without one gleam of light. Yet I +would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a slave, though white people +considered it an easy one; and it was so compared with the fate of others. +I was never cruelly overworked; I was never lacerated with the whip from +head to foot; I was never so beaten and bruised that I could not turn from +one side to the other; I never had my heel-strings cut to prevent my +running away; I was never chained to a log and forced to drag it about, +while I toiled in the fields from morning till night; I was never branded +with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On the contrary, I had always been +kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, until I came into the hands of Dr. +Flint. I had never wished for freedom till then. But though my life in +slavery was comparatively devoid of hardships, God pity the woman who is +compelled to lead such a life! + +My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; +and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such +opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the +opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be +done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, +but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against +something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there +when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could have +been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. I +said to myself, “Now I will have some light. Now I will see my children.” I +did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of attracting +attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next the street, +where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet in and waited +for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; then I bored +out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one hole about an +inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the night, to enjoy +the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I watched for my +children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. Flint. I had a +shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. Several familiar +faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of children, and presently +two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as though they knew I was +there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. How I longed to _tell_ +them I was there! + +My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by +hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that pierced +through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother +gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. The +heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me from +the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my consolations. Through my +peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I +could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear at +Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York to +a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and had +breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she could +find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her reply; +but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his family that +he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as he passed on +his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles of land and +water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still greater +satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. My +little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did from +his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory +information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at +the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called +out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her.” The +doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get out of the +way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off your head.” + +Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail +again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried the +words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had +our next conference at the trap-door, and begged of her not to allow the +children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + +Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become +accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain +position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great +relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold +penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. The +winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; but +the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was +peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bedclothes and warm +drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep comfortable; but +with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were frostbitten. O, those +long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest upon, and no thoughts +to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the uncertain future! I was +thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild for me to wrap myself up +and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. Southerners have the habit +of stopping and talking in the streets, and I heard many conversations not +intended to meet my ears. I heard slave-hunters planning how to catch some +poor fugitive. Several times I heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and +the history of my children, who, perhaps, were playing near the gate. One +would say, “I wouldn’t move my little finger to catch her, as old Flint’s +property.” Another would say, “I’ll catch _any_ nigger for the reward. A +man ought to have what belongs to him, if he _is_ a damned brute.” The +opinion was often expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did +any one suggest that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion +rested on my grandmother’s house, it would have been burned to the ground. +But it was the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where +slavery existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of +concealment. + +Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to +tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them +into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay +handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away +from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, “Dr. Flint, I +don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New York; and when you go +there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but +if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll cut her head off, I’ll tell her +to go right back.” + + + + +XXII. Christmas Festivities. + + +Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied +myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. Were +it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are fearfully +looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, Christmas +might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers try to +gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and Ellen +had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could not +have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the +pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new +suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought +him any thing. “Yes,” replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. +It’s the children’s mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that +can’t be,” replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new +clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time.” + +How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that many +a tear fell on them while she worked! + +Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. +Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They +consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the lower +class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over them, +covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ tails are fastened +to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, covered +with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, while other +strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep time. For a +month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on this occasion. +These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the morning, and are +allowed to go round till twelve o’clock, begging for contributions. Not a +door is left unvisited where there is the least chance of obtaining a penny +or a glass of rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rum +home in jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequently +amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man or +child refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears with +the following song:— + + Poor massa, so dey say; + Down in de heel, so dey say; + Got no money, so dey say; + Not one shillin, so dey say; + God A’mighty bress you, so dey say. + +Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. Slaves, +who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend them for +good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without saying, “By +your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, cook a ’possum, or a +raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My grandmother raised +poultry and pigs for sale and it was her established custom to have both a +turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + +On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests +had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free +colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always +ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white people. +My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take them all +over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open for them +to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs to look +at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, the +rooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard them +talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored man +had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of a +slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off for +white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised him! As +for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office were +despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did not +pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise money enough +to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by being a +constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise authority. If +he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip him as much as he +liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the guests were ready +to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her nice pudding, as a +present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw them go out of the +gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So passed the first +Christmas in my den. + + + + +XXIII. Still In Prison. + + +When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture +commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be +condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh +air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the +earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for +a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even +tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop +from the thin roof over my head. + +During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room to +toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so +stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all my +detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, +either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I +suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed _him_ to be out in the +free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the only means +of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon me! I don’t +know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I should die +before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, +and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most terrible thunder +storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up +my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, +storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, and that was not +comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by +filling the chinks with oakum. + +But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of +doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw a +slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he +will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress had that +day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair +face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her +child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her +master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her +mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold to +a Georgia trader. + +Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a +slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling offence +her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the +degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended +her wrongs in death. + +Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as +these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he +stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery +was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the +master, and a blessing to the slave!” + +I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. +My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I +had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and +tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was +impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother +William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched +tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire whether +there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to consciousness by +the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself leaning against my +brother’s arm, while he bent over me with streaming eyes. He afterwards +told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an unconscious state +sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great danger of +betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied me with +drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. How to +get medical advice was the question. William finally went to a Thompsonian +doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and aches. He returned +with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the +ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal +in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly +cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in an +iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since I +had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made me +weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very +slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day. I +tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and even to love +it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of my children. +Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who would forgive my +sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it seemed to me there +was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I asked why the curse of +slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had been so persecuted and +wronged from youth upward. These things took the shape of mystery, which is +to this day not so clear to my soul as I trust it will be hereafter. + +In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight and +anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best +friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, +how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I +could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + +One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my +peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually +kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I heard +the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed up. O, +what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this and be unable to go to +him! + +But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. +Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of +the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day +that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from his +wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + +When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her +customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire whether +she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked permission to +watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t see any need +of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when she found other ladies in the +neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in Christian +charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, and stood by +the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who had been +repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, +and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent +for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should +have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my +grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attending +physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him coming +to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him a chance to +make out a long bill. + +As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that +a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he had killed +him. It would be good news to send to his mother. _Her_ day will come. The +dogs will grab _her_ yet.” With these Christian words she and her husband +departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + +I learned from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and +gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could +now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of +feeling that I caused her death.” + + + + +XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + + +The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New York, +in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he returned +in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig candidate. The +doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted all his energies +for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of men to dine in the +shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of rum and brandy. If any +poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in the openness of his +convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to vote the Democratic +ticket, he was shoved into the street without ceremony. + +The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event +which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my +children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. Two +little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not to +let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. +Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since +the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I +supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother +concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + +The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, toward +evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found +myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch +from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles +gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I +could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all +the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, +screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, +and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were +failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me +a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the +window, I said, “Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He +started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed +the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had +suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then felt. +Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And had he +so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not listen a +moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy within me, +that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some one opening +it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called me?” said he, in a low tone. +“I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, “I knew your voice; but I was +afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do you come here? Is +it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are mad to allow it. I +shall expect to hear that you are all ruined,” I did not wish to implicate +him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so I merely said, “I +thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and so I came here to +speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. Many changes may +take place during the six months you are gone to Washington, and it does +not seem right for you to expose them to the risk of such changes. I want +nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will free my children, or +authorize some friend to do it, before you go.” + +He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness; to make any +arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + +I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to +crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for +I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the +house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom +window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over night. +He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we should +certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to wait for +a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + +I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I +had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength +that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the +floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the +storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she +whispered, “where are you?” + +“I am here by the window,” I replied. “I _couldn’t_ have him go away +without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + +“Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here another +minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” I told her +I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle +Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back +to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and +asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I +was left with my own thoughts—starless as the midnight darkness around me. + +My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary of +my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my +children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was +willing to bear on. + + + + +XXV. Competition In Cunning. + + +Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my +grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; +and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who +wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that +this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I +resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him +believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated from +that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any +trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, +and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would +trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it +was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was +willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York +paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into +his pocket, and said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought of +a pedler yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next evening. +He bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; brighter days +will come by and by.” + +My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was +over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to +examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for +once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to +render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted concerning +streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my grandmother, the other +to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed man, had treated a +helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and what years of misery +he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I expressed a wish to have my +children sent to me at the north, where I could teach them to respect +themselves, and set them a virtuous example; which a slave mother was not +allowed to do at the south. I asked her to direct her answer to a certain +street in Boston, as I did not live in New York, though I went there +sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow for the time it would take +to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the date to the messenger. When my +friend came for the letters, I said, “God bless and reward you, Peter, for +this disinterested kindness. Pray be careful. If you are detected, both you +and I will have to suffer dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare +to do it for me.” He replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t forget +that your father was my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children +so long as God lets me live.” + +It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she +might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might +say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure +mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order that +she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I whispered it +to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it will succeed. I +shan’t mind being a slave all _my_ life, if I can only see you and the +children free.” + +I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office +on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say +that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter +he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring +it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the +next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and +asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I +might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound of +that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before I +heard the gate slam, and the well known footsteps enter the house. He +seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, “Well, +Martha, I’ve brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, +also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston +for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a +respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. +With _him_, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay his +expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her +children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her +freedom, you’ll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no +objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + +He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had +suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of +his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + + Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda. + +“It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, rising +to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and wants to +return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip about it. If +he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I should like an +answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + +As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, +Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t see +you. How do you do?” + +“Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my +mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + +“Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and you +shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + +This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother +was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go for +me. + +The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told +him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be +mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and nonsense, +Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row +in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she +wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust _you_. The +case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with _me_; +and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not +believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a +row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a +common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but I +forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no +wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she +arrives here.” + +Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let the +cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of Boston, +to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the street and +number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date in the +letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated from New +York, the old man would probably have made another journey to that city. +But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully excluded from +the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to the conclusion +that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place to go in search +of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was passed; before +Massachusetts had consented to become a “nigger hunter” for the south. + +My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in +danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What will +you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t been there? +Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he’ll find out +something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish you +had never sent the letters.” + +“Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t +trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in +the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + +“I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You have +been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will +break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every day to hear +that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, poor +child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go ‘where the +wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’” My heart +responded, Amen. + +The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me +that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no +suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to +keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, and +it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I +resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time +to time. + +Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, +grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, +sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was +allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and +remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, +except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the +upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the +curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much +better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came +down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o’clock, when people +began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the +piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into +my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a +painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first +mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space of +the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + + + + +XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + +I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had +gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters +from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a +manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to +him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William +wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some +time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had promised +to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would William +trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk together, in +our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it very doubtful +whether he would come back to us. + +Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had +proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; that +no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled through +the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had tried to +decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they should be +at home shortly. + +We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, +but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late in +the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I felt +almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he no +word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in her +dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the uncertain +future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God’s could see me, I wept +bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my children, +and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + +At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had +made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old +hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s place occupied its +old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. She +thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my prison I +listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear brother’s voice +and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by Mr. Sands to +tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that the +abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel troubled +about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few days. As +soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could never +expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + +If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the +messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old +grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I was +selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother had +gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a good +deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had +incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, +who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their +emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father was +now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises made +to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, depend +upon many contingencies for their fulfillment. + +Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and +anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it +seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the +children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it +would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as +only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has +gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May be he’ll find mother. If +he does, _won’t_ she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle Phillip, +and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; wouldn’t you, +Ellen?” + +“Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do you +know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do you, +Benny?” + +Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an +old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had +witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts +unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that my +grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, “What’s +the matter, aunt Marthy?” + +“O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my children +or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and lay my old +body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He staid at the +north.” + +Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is _dat_ what you’s crying fur?” +she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t know whar +my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t know whar poor +Linda’s gone to; but you _do_ know whar her brudder is. He’s in free parts; +and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s doings but git down on +your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + +My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the +escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was +only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and +prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my +family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + +It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that Mr. +Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his duty +to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be free; +and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better not +lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, “Don’t worry about +me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur me on +to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to give +you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live happy +together.” + +Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving +him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him +as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no +idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. He’s young and +inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the +scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor +House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. +He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather +shabby, and asked if he didn’t need some money. He said, No, thanked me, +and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited +patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our +journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me +where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He +wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my +kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a free +man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. I +intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. +He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send for +him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me.” + +I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had +not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could +give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at +his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had +he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he might +indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his freedom. He +might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be seized by +creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in his favor. +He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who had kind +masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present opportunity to +own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from his master on +false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his passage to +Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thus +requiting his master’s indulgence. What would _they_ have done under +similar circumstances? + +When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they +chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations of +Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he’ll never get him +again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon Linda’s +children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in the +speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of seeing those little niggers +march about the streets.” + + + + +XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + + +Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the +father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful +devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that +when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed him in +disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to +entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to +time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into +Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the +conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over +my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + +A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands and +his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a fancy +to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does he belong +to?” + +Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the +stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, +Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the +children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to +them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + +When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The +question seemed a mockery. What _could_ I do? They were Mr. Sands’s slaves, +and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. Perhaps +he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any +decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. Mrs. Sands +had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no children +of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to adopt her, +and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to take +Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost beyond +endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for the sake +of having my children free? True, the prospect _seemed_ fair; but I knew +too well how lightly slaveholders held such “parental relations.” If +pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required more money than +could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought of as a +convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O Slavery! Never +should I know peace till my children were emancipated with all due +formalities of law. + +I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I +could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to +remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his +honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, +and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep the +promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals concerning +my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had promised to +emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. I knew there +was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; but what will +not a mother do for her children? He received the message with surprise, +and said, “The children are free. I have never intended to claim them as +slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had better be sent +to the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. Flint boasts that +they are still in his power. He says they were his daughter’s property, and +as she was not of age when they were sold, the contract is not legally +binding.” + +So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were +between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was +powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. +Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his +relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that +she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, as +the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, +negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the +transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to +Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with +friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of +it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought +to me, that the bondwoman’s child should tend her free-born sister; but +there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it +tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without +a mother’s love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without +memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the +natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself that +I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire that +she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my image with +her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to my dungeon. +It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her mother was a +victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place to which it had +driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in one of the open +chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to think of +trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them I had +watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that I was +determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate it, I +would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the rashness +of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my purpose, they +yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, and my uncle +kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and went up stairs, +to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years since I had seen +it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken shelter when my +mistress drove me from her house; there came my old tyrant, to mock, +insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid in my arms; there I +had watched over them, each day with a deeper and sadder love; there I had +knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the wrong I had done. How +vividly it all came back! And after this long, gloomy interval, I stood +there such a wreck! + +In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The +door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I put +my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother.” She +drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she laid +her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been so long +desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, +inquiringly, “You really _are_ my mother?” I told her I really was; that +during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most +tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk +with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, +“I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why didn’t you ever come before? Benny +and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and sometimes he +tells me about you. Why didn’t you come home when Dr. Flint went to bring +you?” + +I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, tell +me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. +“Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, +where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a +letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any +body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, _do_ go, dear mother!” + +I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then +she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted +to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the north, +before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him before he +went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night and sleep +with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she said, +pleadingly, “_May_ I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own mother.” He laid +his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, “Ellen, this is the secret you +have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak of it to any +body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and your mother +can never come to Brooklyn.” “Uncle,” she replied, “I will never tell.” He +told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I took her in my +arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason she must never say +she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to try to please the +people where she was going, and that God would raise her up friends. I told +her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for her poor mother, +and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and I did not check +her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to pour her tears +into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, and I had no +inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose any of them. +Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead softly, and she +said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + +Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window +curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, +and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when I +ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad for +such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last kiss, +and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I will never tell.” And she never did. + +When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone +in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for +Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to +her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. _Won’t_ +you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, ma’am;” and they little dreamed +of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was an +affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she +loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard the +gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can +experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I feared +I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let her go to +Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my experience of +slavery that decided me against it. I feared that circumstances might arise +that would cause her to be sent back. I felt confident that I should go to +New York myself; and then I should be able to watch over her, and in some +degree protect her. + +Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after +Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on +Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion +very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his +own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” And as for sending +Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be +for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said +her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children were +her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could take +them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + +Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now in +her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable for +her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not +understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, +after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. +Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely +to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his +hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of +things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I +could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + +Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a +letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire whether +she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to her +in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person there, +who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child’s friends +at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, are +easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and +persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how +entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child +dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + +If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, +curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of +Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote to +request that she would send her children away from the great house before +his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman could +not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The +existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was +only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance +to him. + +At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. +It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had +just arrived. It contained the following message from her: “I do try to do +just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning.” I +understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to my +heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, “Ellen is a nice little +girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has +given her to me, to be my little waiting-maid. I shall send her to school, +and I hope some day she will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed +and troubled me. Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she was +old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a +piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return to +the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away from +me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to us. I +said to myself, “Surely there must be _some_ justice in man;” then I +remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural feelings of +the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted boy. He +believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of slavery, +would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely out of the +reach of its power! + + + + +XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + + +I have mentioned my greataunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, and +who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from +him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as +slaves _can_ marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, and a +clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without any legal +value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they pleased. She had +always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint’s chamber door, +that she might be within call. When she was married, she was told she might +have the use of a small room in an outhouse. Her mother and her husband +furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep there when +he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was ordered to her +old post on the entry floor. + +Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a +mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could +she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at +her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature +birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on +the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her attentions. She kept +her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature +birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse to +Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of rest +at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint declared it +was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living child. The fear +of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them to allow her to +sleep in her little room in the outhouse, except when there was sickness +in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one of whom died in a +few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember her patient sorrow +as she held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it could have lived,” +she said; “it is not the will of God that any of my children should live. +But I will try to be fit to meet their little spirits in heaven.” + +Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. Indeed, +she was the _factotum_ of the household. Nothing went on well without her. +She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she +supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I +lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us was very strong. +When my friends tried to discourage me from running away; she always +encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master’s +pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never +to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of my +children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to leave +them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own life. +After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, to +bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I kneel down to +listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a crack! “I am old, +and have not long to live,” she used to say; “and I could die happy if I +could only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as I +do for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness.” I would beg her +not to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all suffering +sooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in freedom, I should +always remember her as the good friend who had been the comfort of my life. +A word from her always strengthened me; and not me only. The whole family +relied upon her judgement, and were guided by her advice. I had been in my +cell six years when my grandmother was summoned to the bedside of this, her +last remaining daughter. She was very ill, and they said she would die. +Grandmother had not entered Dr. Flint’s house for several years. They had +treated her cruelly, but she thought nothing of that now. She was grateful +for permission to watch by the death-bed of her child. They had always been +devoted to each other; and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, +longing to speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of +both. My aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and +the last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, +she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she +would try to hold up her hand; to let her know that all was well with her. +Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying +woman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His +eyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful +servant, and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took +to her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone +with the dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always +been a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. “Martha,” +said he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I +hope you will be kind to him, for her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my +foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you little +know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her children.” + +“I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it,” +said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. She would +be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish +it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she +would be a great comfort to your old age.” He knew he was touching a +tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, “It was +not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine +children only one is left. God help me!” + +To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew +that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped +to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to +hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I +could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip +came into the house, I heard some one inquire, “How is she?” and he +answered, “She is dead.” My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew +nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over me. +I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died happy.” +I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look _so_” he said. +“Don’t add to my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has to bear, +and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that blessed +old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting storms +of a slavemother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + +Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently +without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health +by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she became +very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful +illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if +the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for +the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in +the doctor’s family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed +interment in the white people’s burying-ground, and the minister knew that +all the deceased of your family reposed together in the old graveyard of +the slaves. He therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with +your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy’s _mother_ may have some choice as to +where her remains shall be deposited.” + +It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. +When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to lie +with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be +buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it +was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from _her_. She might have +added with touching pathos, “I was so long _used_ to sleep with her lying +near me, on the entry floor.” + +My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; +and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors to slaves and +their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly +respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint’s minister read +the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond +and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our +family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the procession; and when the body was +deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and +returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty +nobly. + +It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern +travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute of +respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the “patriarchal +institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and +their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this +impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ could have told them a +different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and +sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they _had_ any hearts +to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the poor old +slavemother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred dollars to +buy her son Phillip’s right to his own earnings; and how that same Phillip +paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as doing so much +credit to the master. We could also have told them of a poor, blighted +young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to avoid the tortures +that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come out and look on the +face of her departed friend. + +All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting +for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes +falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + +It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always +been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But +her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving +deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to +come to the trap-door, and each place had a different meaning. She now came +oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while +tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to +comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to +help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old back +was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + + + + +XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + + +I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived +in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no +space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to me +a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that +long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now +living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + +Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely +large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, heard the +patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of +runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + +Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, and +heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, “Your +mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled away +since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I was +stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know when +these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the +sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + +After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that +Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; +and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect +them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my +den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out +of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some +one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they +spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been +laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted +attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a +process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs were +greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, which I +sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper with me at +the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense sympathy for +runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted on those who +were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the sufferings of her +bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and dearest of her flock. +So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would groan out, “O, don’t think +of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no good old aunt Nancy now to +encourage me; but my brother William and my children were continually +beckoning me to the north. + +And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the +first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to +new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might +reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On +the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my friends, named +Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s debts. My thoughts +were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what +had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and her +four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped from +her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie I have +spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my grandmother, and +built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling was searched and +watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I was obliged to keep +very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; and not long +afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her mother’s hut. He +told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of it, explaining to +him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed the trust. Aggie +little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her daughter was concealed, +and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was bending under a similar +burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous secrets deepened the +sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + +My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each other; +but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my den, +which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so much +trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur greater +risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily pain and +anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, or some +contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from me. This +thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for the North +Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an unexpected way +for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and asked to speak with +me. “Your day has come, Linda,” said he. “I have found a chance for you to +go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to decide.” The news seemed too +good to be true; but Peter explained his arrangements, and told me all that +was necessary was for me to say I would go. I was going to answer him with +a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny came to my mind. I told him the +temptation was exceedingly strong, but I was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint’s +alleged power over my child, and that I could not go and leave him behind. +Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said such a good chance might never occur +again; that Benny was free, and could be sent to me; and that for the sake +of my children’s welfare I ought not to hesitate a moment. I told him I +would consult with uncle Phillip. My uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade +me go by all means. He promised, if his life was spared, that he would +either bring or send my son to me as soon as I reached a place of safety. I +resolved to go, but thought nothing had better be said to my grandmother +till very near the time of departure. But my uncle thought she would feel +it more keenly if I left here so suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said +he, “and convince her how necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for +hers also. You cannot be blind to the fact that she is sinking under her +burdens.” I was not blind to it. I knew that my concealment was an +ever-present source of anxiety, and that the older she grew the more +nervously fearful she was of discovery. My uncle talked with her, and +finally succeeded in persuading her that it was absolutely necessary for me +to seize the chance so unexpectedly offered. + +The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak +frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I +made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I +resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give him +cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting for him +at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to whisper +words of counsel. She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as I +arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She said she +would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the sake of +having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she could only +live to know _that_ she could die in peace. I promised the dear old +faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put the +letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that not +another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapacious +slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I had not +been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, common +humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at the +expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she was +trembling on the brink of the grave. + +I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further +particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained +several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder +committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this +unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told +the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the +neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about +runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate +awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and +groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat +contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was +grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + +When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and +vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long +time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need not +be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be glad +enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him about +poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his back +upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to help +her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. She +was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were made +for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed that I +had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in the +transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and stowed +away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased at a +price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes to go +to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford the +cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from slavery, the +trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only don’t betray me!” + +The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark and +cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the vessel +had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter too, who +was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the wind and +weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with fright when +they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she must be +suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how thankful she +was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to come down to +the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under her weight of +trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a nervous, excited +state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock the door behind +her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the detention of the +vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then Fanny, and Peter, +and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would be utterly ruined, +and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he should die such a +horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, and all for his +kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be for us all! Alas, +the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a sharp pang through my +heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak soothingly to her. She +brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear daughter she had recently +buried, and then she lost all control of herself. As she stood there, +trembling and sobbing, a voice from the piazza called out, “Whar is you, +aunt Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, and in her agitation opened the +door, without thinking of me. In stepped Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, +who had tried to enter my room, when I was concealed in the house of my +white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery whar for you, aunt Marthy,” said +she. “My missis wants you to send her some crackers.” I had slunk down +behind a barrel, which entirely screened me, but I imagined that Jenny was +looking directly at the spot, and my heart beat violently. My grandmother +immediately thought what she had done, and went out quickly with Jenny to +count the crackers locking the door after her. She returned to me, in a few +minutes, the perfect picture of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my +carelessness has ruined you. The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready +immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain’t got another word to say against it +now; for there’s no telling what may happen this day.” + +Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that +Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised +getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very +still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house +down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because +suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate with +Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him too +much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter had +been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at once +that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a +stronger woman this time. + +He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had shifted, +and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of urgent +necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with her. He +was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the captain +saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his vessel in +search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, but the +boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on board. + +The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak +about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain +replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where you or the +devil would have a tough job to find her.” + +“But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “_She_ is in great +distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if you’ll +stop and take her.” + +“What’s her name?” inquired the captain. “Linda,” he replied. + +“That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By +George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + +“O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. I am +too grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great danger. +Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + +After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any +where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself +Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I want to +bring is Linda Brent.” + +The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being +handsomely paid for his detention. + +Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if +Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; +and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s family till +evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. I +afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of it, +and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to betray a +suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + +I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The +intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him +for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every +day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to +venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up +together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating +interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a +little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going away. I wish I could +go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been _so_ afraid they would +come and catch you!” I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he had +found it out. + +He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went +away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know what +made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night +before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in the +night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see _you_, before she went, for I +heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and remember never to +tell.’” + +I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he +never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other +children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to +the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had kept +a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a constable, or a +patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that I had seen him +manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the house, and I had +at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his actions. Such +prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, but slaves, being +surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early learn to be +suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. He had never +asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had often heard +him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being at the north. + +I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a good, +honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord would +bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live together. He +began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all day. While he +was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a small bag of +money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a part of it, at +least, to pay for Benny’s being sent to the north; but she insisted, while +her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. “You may be sick +among strangers,” she said, “and they would send you to the poorhouse to +die.” Ah, that good grandmother! + +For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer +chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the +blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever +that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old +grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, +after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely +round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again +descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took +me by the hand, and said, “Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, +with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, +loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it +ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and +protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in +God. + +Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in +body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, though +I felt that I should never see it again. + + + + +XXX. Northward Bound. + + +I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, +and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle +Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might +reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. +A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something +pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. He +whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping into the doctor’s window, and he’s +at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; I’ll come.” He hastened away. I +clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, +the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks +to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed with +joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to escape. Yet +that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a chattel! Liable, by +the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to be sold with horses +and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all too full for words! + +Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors +said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your +husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; but I had +presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something the +captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should have +pleasant weather. + +When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an +elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of a +cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a spectre. +She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, “Linda, can this be +_you_? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked in each other’s arms, my +overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My sobs reached the +ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded us, that for his +safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us not to attract any +attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight he wished us to keep +below; but at other times, he had no objection to our being on deck. He +assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we acted prudently, he +thought we should be in no danger. He had represented us as women going to +meet our husbands in ——. We thanked him, and promised to observe +carefully all the directions he gave us. + +Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. +She told me of the suffering she had gone through in making her escape, and +of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s house. Above all, +she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that dreadful +auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the place +where I had passed nearly seven years. “We have the same sorrows,” said I. +“No,” replied she, “you are going to see your children soon, and there is +no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine.” + +The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was +against us, I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight +of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our +enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables +would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain +and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had +heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely +in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be dreadful. +Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be tempted to +make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as property? I was +naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made me suspicious of +every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the captain or his men. She +said she was afraid at first, but she had been on board three days while +the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed her, or treated her +otherwise than kindly. + +The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His +friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, reassured +me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and +occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by +birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and +that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. “But,” said he, +“it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to +acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” As we passed Snaky Swamp, he +pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave territory that defies all the +laws.” I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it was +not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at it. + +I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so refreshing! +And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly sailing on +Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating breeze! And I +could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never realized what grand +things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived of them. + +Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain +said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better wait +till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to avoid +suspicion. + +I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + +He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had +brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in +him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it +was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the +night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. +Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if +Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he +could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, +had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had +intrusted us. The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I +called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free +soil; for such I _then_ believed it to be. We watched the reddening sky, +and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. Soon +the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful glow. +Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and the eyes +of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, and we +supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone in the +world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered by the +demon Slavery. + + + + +XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + + +I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted we +should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that all +were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind +captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease +to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to +the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were +placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood +wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain +touched me on the shoulder, and said, “There is a respectable-looking +colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and +tell him you wish to go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to +direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and +said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste +I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with +salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the great +city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double veils and +gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so many levies. +I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. I thought if +he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I gave him a +gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and found out +how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the captain +introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, minister of +Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old friend. He +told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and must wait +until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home with him, +assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and for my +friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked him for +so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, I should +like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of the country. +Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he would assist +me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook their +hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, and they +had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly conceive of. + +I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people in +the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an +expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting on +deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide to +what nation I belonged. + +Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I +was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! +I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received her +sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home made +sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + +After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken +of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in +looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retracted our +steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed +that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was +surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He was +approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask +about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would +he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other at +the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some of +the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; but I +would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought he +ought to know how far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have tried your +feelings,” said he. “I did not question you from idle curiosity. I wanted +to understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of any +service to you, or your little girl. Your straightforward answers do you +credit; but don’t answer every body so openly. It might give some heartless +people a pretext for treating you with contempt.” + +That word _contempt_ burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God alone +knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am +permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live in +such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + +“I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be +governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + +When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a +while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They +brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my +meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, her +face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery +friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of +encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked +concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how +careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. +How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have +been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale +of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my plans, +and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably established, for +the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The Anti-Slavery Society agreed +to pay her expenses to New York. The same was offered to me, but I declined +to accept it, telling them that my grandmother had given me sufficient to +pay my expenses to the end of my journey. We were urged to remain in +Philadelphia a few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us. +I gladly accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meeting +slaveholders, and some dread also of railroads. I had never entered a +railroad car in my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event. + +That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it +before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a +long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by +fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, +every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white people +thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for insurrection, +and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored people were +ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was but one engine +in our town, and colored women and children were often required to drag it +to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s daughter slept in the same +room with me, and seeing that she slept through all the din, I thought it +was my duty to wake her. “What’s the matter?” said she, rubbing her eyes. + +“They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I +replied. + +“What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get up, +without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + +I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill +the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things +went on in great cities. + +At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and +various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early +hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. +Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast +table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I +joined in the mirth. + +I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends +that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind +hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. +Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of knowledge. +She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. One day she +took me to an artist’s room, and showed me the portraits of some of her +children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people before, and they +seemed to be beautiful. + +At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to accompany +us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good hostess +in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had repeated to +her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made any allusion +to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly sympathy. + +When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will have +a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first-class +cars.” + +Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” said +he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored people +to go in the first-class cars.” + +This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored +people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the +south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made +me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + +We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too +high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, +apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, +containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or +pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes +of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, and +my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs around +me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been some +improvement in these matters. + + + + +XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + + +When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen +calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to +Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and said, +“I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price was an +object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. “Troth an I +will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each other, +and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. “Yes, it’s dacent it is, +marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ ladies in a cab that was not +dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon +reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, ladies.” We followed, and +found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on them. +We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the trunks +off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six +shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I +was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head +for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had +our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house +in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The +Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of her +in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of the +country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He came +immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him to aid +me in procuring an interview. + +I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just +arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north seven +years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came from the +same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my daughter +meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he agreed to +escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle Avenue, and +stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, when two +girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, and +recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to live +with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised and +rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and +inquired concerning her mother. + +“You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and there +stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from me to +take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years since I +parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less observing +than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go into the house; but Ellen +said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as quickly as +possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and see me. It was +agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her companion, Sarah, +hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I entered the house, I +found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her return. Before I saw +her, I heard her saying, “Where is Linda Brent? I used to know her father +and mother.” Soon Sarah came with her mother. So there was quite a company +of us, all from my grandmother’s neighborhood. These friends gathered round +me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they cried, and they shouted. +They thanked God that I had got away from my persecutors and was safe on +Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. How different from the +silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + +The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with +the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That +I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should have +sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I had +just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of my +having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on +several people. + +I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to +subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon +slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no +alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I had +recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my daughter +come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, inviting me +to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. The +conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I +asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no +heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an +unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she +asked very earnestly, “Mother, will you take me to live with you?” It made +me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and +earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed +with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school She +had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely knew +her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public +schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + +She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a +friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a +useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, “I +suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has _given_ her to my eldest +daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows up.” I +did not answer a word. How _could_ she, who knew by experience the strength +of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware of the relation Mr. Sands +bore to my children,—how _could_ she look me in the face, while she thrust +such a dagger into my heart? + +I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of +ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and +afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps +they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s knowledge was +quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient to go to work and +earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. Mr. +Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been deceived +about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt that I had +none. + +I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to +protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called +myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down +that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the +lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his +daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + +Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother +William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in +Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New +Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling +voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to +get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave +me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my +rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I lent +this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a copy to +my readers. + + + + +XXXIII. A Home Found. + + +My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly +improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I +walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who employed +strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, I could, +of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so faithfully +served. + +One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, +and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she preferred +to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of infants. I +told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many questions, +but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from my former +employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a pleasant +circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice against +color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try each +other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and I was +engaged for a month. + +The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this +place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and +sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of +passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so +painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would +have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save +me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told +her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and +kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, and +from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant +feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to +confide it; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost all +confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was for +some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful +feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had +passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of +her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began to +expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the +opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had +leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more +cheerful. + +The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, often +threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a home for +Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to accept it, for +fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my precarious +situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was important for me +to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor and economy, I +could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling satisfied with +Ellen’s situation. She was not well cared for. She sometimes came to New +York to visit me; but she generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs that +I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This was +accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs’s salary at the Custom +House became due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus many +dollars of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed. +That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that their +pecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious young +daughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners, and +had frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr. Flint put +Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation of the eyes, +occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce +proposed that she should come to New York for a while, to be under the care +of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It did not occur to me that there was +any thing improper in a mother’s making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was +very angry, and refused to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not +politic to insist upon it. I made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely +free to act a mother’s part towards my children. The next time I went over +to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had +employed her own physician to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had +refused my request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New +York. I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my +child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was +a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her +injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel +otherwise. + +Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that +it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. When it +laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms +confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and +Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, as +I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was attracted +by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was closely observing every house as +he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my brother William? It +_must_ be he—and yet, how changed! I placed the baby safely, flew down +stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a +minute I was clasped in my brother’s arms. How much we had to tell each +other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over each other’s adventures! I +took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he +had loved and tended so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. +He staid in New York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen +were as lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are +formed by suffering together. + + + + +XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + + +My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letter +requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received a +reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In order +rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear in mind +that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. They had +no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three excursions to New York in search +of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five hundred +dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way to the +steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy’s +death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept +the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + + Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death-bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher. + +This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I +knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and +though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in +former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the +hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to go +into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the +African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their +cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged with +base ingratitude. + +Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the +south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The letter +had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. Mrs. Bruce +did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called me +to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring a +friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. I started on my +journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother +that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting +for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal +power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and +when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of +sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, +but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of colored +children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, with +the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous to +their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes unpopular. + +There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to +New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested +to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my +door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” he exclaimed, +“here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d’you do?” + +O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a +slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. +“Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see +her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I wish +I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t know so +much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost all my +clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose free boys can get +along here at the north as well as white boys.” + +I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was +mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The +rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, with +the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with us, and +frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and be sure to +tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to Boston. + +Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon +me, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain where +I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the affectionate +family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were doomed to +disappointment. + +As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of +my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through +the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and +finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the +considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews +with my darling daughter. + +But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was +necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh air, +and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might recognize +me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one class of +the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a comfort it is, +to be free to _say_ so! + + + + +XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + + +It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We +went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for +tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come +to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby had her supper, +but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being +insulted.” “O no, not if you are with _me_,” she said. I saw several white +nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were at the +extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff voice said, +“Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here.” I looked up, and, to my +astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a colored man. If +his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the boat, he might, at +least, have done it politely. I replied, “I shall not get up, unless the +captain comes and takes me up.” No cup of tea was offered me, but Mrs. +Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked to see whether the +other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They were all properly +waited on. + +Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making +a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and we’ll go in +together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will you allow your +nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew this was to be +attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I did +not mind it. + +At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took +one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, +of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but +here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round +me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize +me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + +We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the +remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the +clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see +Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, +were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has +come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” I accepted the +warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and +would try to see her when I came back. + +Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim Crow +car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the +streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same +manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, +and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway +before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a large hotel, beautifully +situated by the sea-side—a great resort of the fashionable world. Thirty +or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of the +ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only nurse +tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took little Mary +and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long hall. A young +man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the table two or +three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower end of it. As +there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my lap. Whereupon +the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner possible, “Will +you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand behind it and +feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the kitchen, where you +will have a good supper.” + +This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I +looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade +lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence +were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in +my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce +ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered +for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they +soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The +landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his +servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of +other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + +My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with +_themselves_, for not having too much self-respect to submit to such +treatment; that there was no difference in the price of board for colored +and white servants, and there was no justification for difference of +treatment. I staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand +up for my rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man +and woman do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot +by our oppressors. + + + + +XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + + +After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and +see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. +Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid +seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted +on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said she, “and he is +sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told me +to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many +little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her +grandchild.” + +This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the south, +and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old slaves to +borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom they consider +an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he professed to +feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a distance, but as +he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was nothing to be +gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be the means of +exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He met me in a very +friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from slavery, and hoped I +had a good place, where I felt happy. + +I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful child, +never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant lookout for +my safety. She never made any complaint about her own inconveniences and +troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily perceived that she was not +happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her unusually serious. +When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing was the matter. But +I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very grave. Finally, I +ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation that was +continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very often for +rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbs +and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so that they +had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. “But for all that,” said +she, “Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I feel sorry +for him.” I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up a +hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her and +Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not to +add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover till +years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only annoyance +she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to my +grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile language +into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + +I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found +Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said she, “I’ve +been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne has written to +tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. Hobbs will tell +you all about it!” + +The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine +arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, which +he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the time, +and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the pieces and +carried them to the children, saying, “I wonder who Mr. Thorne has been +writing to.” + +“I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the +children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + +“But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been +writing to the south about my mother.” + +They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put +the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were +no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I declare, Ellen, I +believe you are right.” + +The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as +follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can be +taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here to +swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my +country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” He concluded by +informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children +carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother’s +room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they saw +him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to the +post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint a +copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, +and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the +next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of +the family were astir. + +It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city +with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and all +my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that demon +Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I had not +concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would have made +her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind heart. I valued +her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told her all the +particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was necessary for her +to know how I was situated. I had once left her abruptly, without +explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do it again. I went +home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness of my face +attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, I poured out +my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true womanly +sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. How my +heart blessed her! + +Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. +They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great +if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house of +one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my brother +could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my thoughts +were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was also mine +by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that made her +so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs, +who felt badly about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my entreaties, on +condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise. +She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a school +satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in October, and +I knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in the streets to +purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and converted it into +one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, and when she saw that +I had taken off my clothing for my child, the tears came to her eyes. She +said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. She soon returned with a nice +warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of such souls as hers are the kingdom +of heaven. + +My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go to +Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in that +direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers that I +formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the steamboat +Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I knew that +colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very desirous for +the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure to the night +air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board for +us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular favor, that she +would treat us well. He said to me, “Go and speak to the captain yourself +by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure that he will not +let her sleep on deck.” With these kind words and a shake of the hand he +departed. + +The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home +where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to +purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he +would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave +me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner I +said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot +possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter.” She assured me +there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were +allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much +travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain’s office, +and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the +hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our +tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was +contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he +would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he +was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the +boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came +afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that he +had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very much +surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether the pleasing +face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the stewardess +inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, and had pleaded +with him in my behalf. + +When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and +showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to +take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on +toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we +reached Boston in safety. + +The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if I +was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during +many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed +their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a +swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + +I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, +that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to +Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me for +that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her age, +so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her myself +till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter passed +pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with their +books. + + + + +XXXVII. A Visit To England + + +In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in +this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. I +had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. Mr. +Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s relatives in England, +and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little motherless +one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she would be +happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn more in +this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and left +Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + +We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage +of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the +Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had +seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. +For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated +according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as +if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a +pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, for +the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, unadulterated +freedom. + +As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the +wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed +through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in +our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days +with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to +accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English +education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight +in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates +and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good +management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did +not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like all +children—sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + +We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be +the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six +shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and +sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they +lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a +woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of meat. +They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the cheapest +fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the United +States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of the +poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among the +poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched cottages, I +felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant among them +was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves in America. +They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while the stars +were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through heat and +cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very humble; but +they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in the dead of +night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he closed his +cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master or overseer +could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They must separate +to earn their living; but the parents knew where their children were going, +and could communicate with them by letters. The relations of husband and +wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the richest noble in the land +to violate with impunity. Much was being done to enlighten these poor +people. Schools were established among them, and benevolent societies were +active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. There was no law +forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they helped each other +in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of thirty-nine lashes, as +was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle Fred. I repeat that the +most ignorant and the most destitute of these peasants was a thousand fold +better off than the most pampered American slave. + +I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to +paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the +condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of _my_ +experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If +she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the +fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation +in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her +tell quite a different story. + +My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my +having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous manner +in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in my +native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; and +the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the gospel, had +given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole service seemed +to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in the family of a +clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of his daily life +inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian professions. Grace +entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I trust, in true +humility of soul. + +I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had anticipated. +During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of prejudice +against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came for us to +return to America. + + + + +XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + + +We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to +rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be +afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I +hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and +improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had been +left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every thing +worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his +fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they +had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at once transformed +him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were Americans, others +American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their dignity to have a +“nigger” among them, after they had been told that he _was_ a “nigger.” +They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that he returned +the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too spirited a boy to +stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do something to support +himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped for a whaling voyage. +When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and bitterly reproached +myself for having left him so long. But I had done it for the best, and now +all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to guide and protect him. + +Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily +Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + + In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress. + +Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I +felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such professions. + + “Come up into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly; + “Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.” + +It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, since +they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from +them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in +future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education +of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, but +unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a piece of +property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and during that +time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many comforts in food +and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but though Dr. Flint +had incurred no expense for their support, he had received a large sum of +money for them. I knew the law would decide that I was his property, and +would probably still give his daughter a claim to my children; but I +regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had no rights that I +was bound to respect. + +The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts had +not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so called. I +knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I relied on her +love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware that I honored +the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + + + + +XXXIX. The Confession. + + +For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. +At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a +boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with +her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two +little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish +feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we +had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her +father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a +shrinking dread of diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have +curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was +always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now +that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, +she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the palliating +circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the subject, her +sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + +When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to leave +you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve +myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + +I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, +solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; I +have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, +and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they +had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and +exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + +I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + +“I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, and +he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five months in +Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as he did to +his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for Fanny’s nurse +told me so, but she said I must never tell any body, and I never did. I +used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he did Fanny; or +that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I thought if he was +my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl then, and didn’t +know any better. But now I never think any thing about my father. All my +love is for you.” She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I thanked God that +the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not diminished the +affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she knew that portion +of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her long before; for my +pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves out to some one I +could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the delicacy she had +manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + +The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the village +in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if all the +sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I was +thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, +requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my +return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an +anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of +some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried it, +but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, but +the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I +passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical +believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a +man’s worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those +beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + + + + +XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + + +My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to +California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen liked +her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her history, +and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make capital out of +their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered that her mother was +a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase her advantages and +diminish her expenses. + +I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I +preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from +Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling +little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a cheerless +distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl now, but I +loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was proposed that I +should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one hesitation, and that was +feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly increased by the passage of +the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to try the experiment. I was +again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, brought +up under aristocratic influences, and still living in the midst of them; +but if she had any prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it; +and as for the system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. No +sophistry of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a person +of excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to the +present, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with her +and hers! + +About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred of +disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first +fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of +the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign +of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl +of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals of the poor.” +But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of Jenny Lind +in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted colored people +went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from Zion’s church. Many +families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, fled from it now. +Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made herself a comfortable +home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to +friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wife +discovered a secret she had never known before—that her husband was a +fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a +husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as +“the child follows the condition of its mother,” the children of his love +were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those +humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the +legislators of the “dominant race” for the blood they were crushing out of +trampled hearts? + +When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to +California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our +oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I +seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our +oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did +not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by +his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent +and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; +and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the +family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What a +disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of +offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be +condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for +protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu +vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their +persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the +newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I +did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might +be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if +necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that +“knowledge should be increased.” + +This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly +relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to +a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter +heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was +included in the son’s portion. This young man became a prey to the vices he +went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with +him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive +dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose +despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own +helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial +occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel beside +the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. Some days +he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to be in +readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving more or +less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town constable was +sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience how +much more the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than the +comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, +and was finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in constant +requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s care, and +was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring any gratitude +or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to increase his +irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere degraded wreck +of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of despotism; and if +Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable was immediately sent +for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy to be repeated. When +I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the +bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + +One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was +hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man +approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I recognized +Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had escaped from the +black pit; I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, though I no +longer called it _free_ soil. I well remembered what a desolate feeling it +was to be alone among strangers, and I went up to him and greeted him +cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I mentioned my name, he +remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive Slave Law, and asked +him if he did not know that New York was a city of kidnappers. + +He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I runned +away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem speculators +vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain’t sartin sure to +put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk good car ’bout dat. I had +too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis nigger.” + +He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. I +asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon it, I hab,” +he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days fur dem cussed +whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger had a +right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he lib till +ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil would hab +him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his money ’long too. So I tuk some of +his bills, and put ’em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he was +buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” With a +low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see I didn’t _steal_ it; dey _gub_ it +to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findin +it; but he didn’t git it.” + +This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. When +a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws sanction +and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard to +honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat enlightened, +but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused Luke, in +thinking he had a _right_ to that money, as a portion of his unpaid wages. +He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from him. + +All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children out +to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. I +dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their +appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws +as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called free! + +Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew +of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me +caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s +children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which +slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at +their cupidity and mean servility. + +I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt +measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied +immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should +carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for +the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how +few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a +fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of +the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice +she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, “It is +better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your track, +they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there is a +possibility of saving you, you shall be saved.” + +This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many +respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for +harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her +country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, “I am +very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. +Shame on my country that it _is_ so! I am ready to incur the penalty. I +will go to the state’s prison, rather than have any poor victim torn from +_my_ house, to be carried back to slavery.” + +The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write of +her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my +persecuted people! + +I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a +senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable +gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the +senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was strongly opposed to +it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me remain +in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I remained a +month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint’s emissaries had +lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, I returned to +New York. + + + + +XLI. Free At Last. + + +Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I +was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a +cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was +doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to +breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; +and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized +country. + +From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could +not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an +extract from one of her last letters:— + + Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God’s children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother. + +These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have +tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her +messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I +mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned +from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she +wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! I +hope he made his peace with God.” + +I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she +had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress +had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to +myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely +forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master’s +death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the +grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his +memory is odious now. + +His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had threatened +my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after he was gone; +that I never should be free so long as a child of his survived. As for Mrs. +Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I supposed the loss of her +husband would be, for she had buried several children; yet I never saw any +signs of softening in her heart. The doctor had died in embarrassed +circumstances, and had little to will to his heirs, except such property as +he was unable to grasp. I was well aware what I had to expect from the +family of Flints; and my fears were confirmed by a letter from the south, +warning me to be on my guard, because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her +daughter could not afford to lose so valuable a slave as I was. + +I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, +being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I +went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy +about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list of +arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine the +acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. and +Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, and +that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that they +were short of funds and had need of my value, as _they_ valued me; and that +was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. Bruce. Her +heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and she always +warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how near the enemy +was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we were sleeping. He +might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I ventured out of +doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, and therefore I +could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A carriage was hastily +ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, taking the baby again +with me into exile. After various turnings and crossings, and returnings, +the carriage stopped at the house of one of Mrs. Bruce’s friends, where I +was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned immediately, to instruct the +domestics what to say if any one came to inquire for me. + +It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had a +chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. Bruce’s +return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. One +inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said he +had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in +person. + +They were told, “She _has_ lived here, but she has left.” + +“How long ago?” + +“I don’t know, sir.” + +“Do you know where she went?” + +“I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + +This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee +pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. +He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and +married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and +the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to +remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had +become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for +support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should make +an effort to put me into his pocket. + +I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most +implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge +had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make +inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint’s family were +well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, and +he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. Dodge’s +room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly inquired, +“What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?” + +“Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to ask +Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give any +offence.” + +“Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + +“What girl, sir?” + +“You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s +plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where she +is.” + +“Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, +sir.” + +“Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to +buy her freedom.” + +“I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would +go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her +freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn’t do +it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her children.” + +This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. My +friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I +received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in +the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business +was very plain. + +Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. +She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me +might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an +earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, +disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been +chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to end. +There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring to +worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for afternoon +service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, “Will the preachers take +for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the opening of prison +doors to them that are bound’? or will they preach from the text, ‘Do unto +others as ye would they should do unto you’?” Oppressed Poles and +Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell was free to +proclaim in the City Hall his desire for “a plantation well stocked with +slaves;” but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring to show my +face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on that Sabbath +day! The Scripture says, “Oppression makes even a wise man mad;” and I was +not wise. + +I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her +right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This +it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. +Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young +daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had +suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger’s when a +hunter tries to seize her young. + +Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned +away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations +unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o’clock in the evening +arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend +became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk +for my journey—trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. I +yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + +The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New +England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to +me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, informing +me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she intended to +put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt grateful for +the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not so pleasant to +me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become enlightened, +the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an article of property; +and to pay money to those who had so grievously oppressed me seemed like +taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I wrote to Mrs. Bruce, +thanking her, but saying that being sold from one owner to another seemed +too much like slavery; that such a great obligation could not be easily +cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my brother in California. + +Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter +into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars +down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish +all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my +master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The +gentleman replied, “You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this offer +you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will convey her +and her children out of the country.” + +Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he +agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief +letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your +freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you +and my sweet babe.” + +My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s +true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words struck +me like a blow. So I was _sold_ at last! A human being _sold_ in the free +city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future generations +will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New York, late in +the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may hereafter prove a +useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to measure the progress of +civilization in the United States. I well know the value of that bit of +paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to look upon it. I am +deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, but I despise the +miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully belonged to him or +his. + +I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when it +was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary shoulders. +When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil my face and +look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have met Daniel +Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he might have +mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to sell me for +three hundred dollars. + +When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and +our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, I’m _so_ +glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be +transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your +services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail +for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of +knowing that you left me a free woman.” + +My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried to +buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I hoped +his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old +grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and how +often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old heart +would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that we +were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God had +raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the precious, +long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly used. Like +other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by careless handling; +but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word is sacred. + +My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a letter +came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease from +troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + +Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an +obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of +such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of his +friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid him low, they +call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to the +black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not require +man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they called a colored man +a _citizen_! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + +Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I +and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of slaveholders +as are the white people of the north; and though that, according to my +ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast improvement in _my_ +condition. The dream of my life is not yet realized. I do not sit with my +children in a home of my own, I still long for a hearthstone of my own, +however humble. I wish it for my children’s sake far more than for my own. +But God so orders circumstances as to keep me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. +Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her side. It is a privilege to serve +her who pities my oppressed people, and who has bestowed the inestimable +boon of freedom on me and my children. + +It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I +passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the +retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy +recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, +fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + + + + +APPENDIX. + + +The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of +Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by +friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the +preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her +hospitable roof. + +L.M.C. + + The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister’s life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. + + As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disenthrallment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, “You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read.” Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. + + Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. + + This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been _bought_ was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: “I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me _that_ freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant.” + + Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859. + +The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable +colored citizen of Boston. + +L.M.C. + + This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years’ concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. + + George W. Lowther. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE +GIRL *** + +***** This file should be named 11030-0.txt or 11030-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/3/11030/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl + Written by Herself</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Harriet Jacobs (AKA Linda Brent)</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 11, 2004 [eBook #11030]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 9, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. HTML file produced by David Widger. Revised by Richard Tonsing.</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL ***</div> + +<p>[Transcriber’s note: The spelling irregularities of the original have been +retained in this etext.]</p> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + <span class='ph2'>INCIDENTS</span><br /> + <span class='ph5'>IN THE</span><br /> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. + </h1> + <div class='ph4'>Written by Herself.</div> + <div class='ph3'>Linda Brent</div> + <p> + “Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual + bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of <i>degradation</i> + involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease their + efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown.” + </p> + <p> + A Woman Of North Carolina. + </p> + <p> + “Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters! + Give ear unto my speech.” + </p> + <p> + Isaiah xxxii. 9. + </p> + <p> + Edited By L. Maria Child. + </p> + <p> + Boston: Published For The Author. + </p> + <div class='ph3'>1861.</div> + <hr /> + <div class='chapter' /><h2>CONTENTS</h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> I. Childhood </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> II. The New Master And Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> V. The Trials Of Girlhood. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VI. The Jealous Mistress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VII. The Lover. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The + North. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XI. The New Tie To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XII. Fear Of Insurrection. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIII. The Church And Slavery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIV. Another Link To Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XV. Continued Persecutions. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVII. The Flight. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XVIII. Months Of Peril. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XIX. The Children Sold. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XX. New Perils. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXII. Christmas Festivities. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIII. Still In Prison. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXV. Competition In Cunning. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVII. New Destination For The Children. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXIX. Preparations For Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXX. Northward Bound. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIII. A Home Found. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVII. A Visit To England </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XXXIX. The Confession. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLI. Free At Last. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR + </h2> + <p> + Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of my + adventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true. + I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, + my descriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names of + places, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy on + my own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others to + pursue this course. + </p> + <p> + I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust my + readers will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I was + born and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-seven + years. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to + work diligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This + has not left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early + opportunities to improve myself; and it has compelled me to write these + pages at irregular intervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from + household duties. + </p> + <p> + When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish a + sketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such an + undertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, I + still remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse what + might otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences in + order to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have been + more pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do I + care to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire + to arouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of + two millions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what I + suffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that + of abler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery + really is. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and + foul is that pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this + imperfect effort in behalf of my persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + —<i>Linda Brent</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR + </h2> + <p> + The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, and + her conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the last + seventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with a + distinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to be + highly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without further + credentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not be + disposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are + more romantic than fiction. + </p> + <p> + At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I have + made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly + arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the + import of her very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the + ideas and the language are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but + otherwise I had no reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of + telling her own story. The names of both persons and places are known to + me; but for good reasons I suppress them. + </p> + <p> + It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should be + able to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the first + place, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, + with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate + friend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in + favorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequent + intercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in her + welfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement. + </p> + <p> + I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting these + pages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent and + much-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, + and others indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been + kept veiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous + features, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them with + the veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who + are suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to + them. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women + at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence + on the question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the + hope that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before + God that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery + shall ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption and + cruelty. + </p> + <p> + —<i>L. Maria Child</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='ph1'>INCIDENTS<br /> + <span class='ph2'>IN THE</span><br /> + LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL,<br /> + SEVEN YEARS CONCEALED.</div> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + I. Childhood + </h2> + <p> + I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood + had passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent + and skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were + to be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On + condition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and + supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his + own affairs. His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though + he several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never + succeeded. In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, + and were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, + though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I + was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable + to be demanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was + two years younger than myself—a bright, affectionate child. I had + also a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable + woman in many respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South + Carolina, who, at his death, left her mother and his three children free, + with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during + the Revolutionary War; and they were captured on their passage, carried + back, and sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother + used to tell me; but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a + little girl when she was captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. + I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as + she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that + her master and mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to + take care of such a valuable piece of property. She became an + indispensable personage in the household, officiating in all capacities, + from cook and wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her + cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that + many people were desirous of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous + requests of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress to bake + crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained + leave to do it, provided she would clothe herself and her children from + the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her + mistress, she began her midnight bakings, assisted by her two oldest + children. The business proved profitable; and each year she laid by a + little, which was saved for a fund to purchase her children. Her master + died, and the property was divided among his heirs. The widow had her + dower in the hotel which she continued to keep open. My grandmother + remained in her service as a slave; but her children were divided among + her master’s children. As she had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was + sold, in order that each heir might have an equal portion of dollars and + cents. There was so little difference in our ages that he seemed more like + my brother than my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for + he inherited the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon + ancestors. Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty dollars + were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blow to my grandmother, but she + was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting + in time to be able to purchase some of her children. She had laid up three + hundred dollars, which her mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to + pay her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise or writing given + to a slave is legally binding; for, according to Southern laws, a slave, + <i>being</i> property, can <i>hold</i> no property. When my grandmother + lent her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely to her honor. + The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! + </p> + <p> + To this good grandmother I was indebted for many comforts. My brother + Willie and I often received portions of the crackers, cakes, and + preserves, she made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we were + indebted to her for many more important services. + </p> + <p> + Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances of my early childhood. + When I was six years old, my mother died; and then, for the first time, I + learned, by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother’s mistress + was the daughter of my grandmother’s mistress. She was the foster-sister + of my mother; they were both nourished at my grandmother’s breast. In + fact, my mother had been weaned at three months old, that the babe of the + mistress might obtain sufficient food. They played together as children; + and, when they became women, my mother was a most faithful servant to her + whiter foster sister. On her death-bed her mistress promised that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and during her lifetime she + kept her word. They all spoke kindly of my dead mother, who had been a + slave merely in name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I grieved for + her, and my young mind was troubled with the thought who would now take + care of me and my little brother. I was told that my home was now to be + with her mistress; and I found it a happy one. No toilsome or disagreeable + duties were imposed on me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always + glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young + years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, + with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When + she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I + bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were + happy days—too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the + morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human + being born to be a chattel. + </p> + <p> + When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As + I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I + prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been + almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and + they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears + fell upon her grave. + </p> + <p> + I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to + begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they + would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind + as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her + children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, + and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having + some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it + would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my + mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory + of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the + auction block. + </p> + <p> + After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we + learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of + five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the + precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” + “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto + them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her + neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great + wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy + days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of + injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for + this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her + memory. + </p> + <p> + She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed + among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had + shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding + my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her + children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no + more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the + horses they tend. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + II. The New Master And Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint, a physician in the neighborhood, had married the sister of my + mistress, and I was now the property of their little daughter. It was not + without murmuring that I prepared for my new home; and what added to my + unhappiness, was the fact that my brother William was purchased by the + same family. My father, by his nature, as well as by the habit of + transacting business as a skillful mechanic, had more of the feelings of a + freeman than is common among slaves. My brother was a spirited boy; and + being brought up under such influences, he daily detested the name of + master and mistress. One day, when his father and his mistress both + happened to call him at the same time, he hesitated between the two; being + perplexed to know which had the strongest claim upon his obedience. He + finally concluded to go to his mistress. When my father reproved him for + it, he said, “You both called me, and I didn’t know which I ought to go to + first.” + </p> + <p> + “You are <i>my</i> child,” replied our father, “and when I call you, you + should come immediately, if you have to pass through fire and water.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Willie! He was now to learn his first lesson of obedience to a + master. Grandmother tried to cheer us with hopeful words, and they found + an echo in the credulous hearts of youth. + </p> + <p> + When we entered our new home we encountered cold looks, cold words, and + cold treatment. We were glad when the night came. On my narrow bed I + moaned and wept, I felt so desolate and alone. + </p> + <p> + I had been there nearly a year, when a dear little friend of mine was + buried. I heard her mother sob, as the clods fell on the coffin of her + only child, and I turned away from the grave, feeling thankful that I + still had something left to love. I met my grandmother, who said, “Come + with me, Linda;” and from her tone I knew that something sad had happened. + She led me apart from the people, and then said, “My child, your father is + dead.” Dead! How could I believe it? He had died so suddenly I had not + even heard that he was sick. I went home with my grandmother. My heart + rebelled against God, who had taken from me mother, father, mistress, and + friend. The good grandmother tried to comfort me. “Who knows the ways of + God?” said she. “Perhaps they have been kindly taken from the evil days to + come.” Years afterwards I often thought of this. She promised to be a + mother to her grandchildren, so far as she might be permitted to do so; + and strengthened by her love, I returned to my master’s. I thought I + should be allowed to go to my father’s house the next morning; but I was + ordered to go for flowers, that my mistress’s house might be decorated for + an evening party. I spent the day gathering flowers and weaving them into + festoons, while the dead body of my father was lying within a mile of me. + What cared my owners for that? he was merely a piece of property. + Moreover, they thought he had spoiled his children, by teaching them to + feel that they were human beings. This was blasphemous doctrine for a + slave to teach; presumptuous in him, and dangerous to the masters. + </p> + <p> + The next day I followed his remains to a humble grave beside that of my + dear mother. There were those who knew my father’s worth, and respected + his memory. + </p> + <p> + My home now seemed more dreary than ever. The laugh of the little + slave-children sounded harsh and cruel. It was selfish to feel so about + the joy of others. My brother moved about with a very grave face. I tried + to comfort him, by saying, “Take courage, Willie; brighter days will come + by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know any thing about it, Linda,” he replied. “We shall have to + stay here all our days; we shall never be free.” + </p> + <p> + I argued that we were growing older and stronger, and that perhaps we + might, before long, be allowed to hire our own time, and then we could + earn money to buy our freedom. William declared this was much easier to + say than to do; moreover, he did not intend to <i>buy</i> his freedom. We + held daily controversies upon this subject. + </p> + <p> + Little attention was paid to the slaves’ meals in Dr. Flint’s house. If + they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. I gave + myself no trouble on that score, for on my various errands I passed my + grandmother’s house, where there was always something to spare for me. I + was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my + grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something + for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to <i>her</i> for all my + comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was <i>her</i> labor that supplied my + scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress + given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the + badges of slavery. + </p> + <p> + While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard + earnings, the three hundred dollars she had lent her mistress were never + repaid. When her mistress died, her son-in-law, Dr. Flint, was appointed + executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate + was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, + prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra, which had been + purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the + family, from generation to generation. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she + should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the + promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old + servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be + sold. + </p> + <p> + On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, + proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, &c.” + Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her + feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose + of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she + understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very + spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress + intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. + She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and + preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was called, was generally + known, and every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good + character. Her long and faithful service in the family was also well + known, and the intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day + of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call + she sprang upon the auction block. Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! + Who is going to sell <i>you</i>, aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is + no place for <i>you</i>.” Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her + fate. No one bid for her. At last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” + It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my + grandmother’s deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same + roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her + owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights; and she + resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her + wishes were respected; no one bid above her. She could neither read nor + write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. + But what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with + human kindness? She gave the old servant her freedom. + </p> + <p> + At that time, my grandmother was just fifty years old. Laborious years had + passed since then; and now my brother and I were slaves to the man who had + defrauded her of her money, and tried to defraud her of her freedom. One + of my mother’s sisters, called Aunt Nancy, was also a slave in his family. + She was a kind, good aunt to me; and supplied the place of both + housekeeper and waiting maid to her mistress. She was, in fact, at the + beginning and end of every thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy. She + had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her nerves were + so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see a woman whipped, + till the blood trickled from every stroke of the lash. She was a member of + the church; but partaking of the Lord’s supper did not seem to put her in + a Christian frame of mind. If dinner was not served at the exact time on + that particular Sunday, she would station herself in the kitchen, and wait + till it was dished, and then spit in all the kettles and pans that had + been used for cooking. She did this to prevent the cook and her children + from eking out their meagre fare with the remains of the gravy and other + scrapings. The slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to + give them. Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times + a day. I can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from + her flour barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would make, + and exactly what size they ought to be. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never sent a dinner to his table + without fear and trembling; for if there happened to be a dish not to his + liking, he would either order her to be whipped, or compel her to eat + every mouthful of it in his presence. The poor, hungry creature might not + have objected to eating it; but she did object to having her master cram + it down her throat till she choked. + </p> + <p> + They had a pet dog, that was a nuisance in the house. The cook was ordered + to make some Indian mush for him. He refused to eat, and when his head was + held over it, the froth flowed from his mouth into the basin. He died a + few minutes after. When Dr. Flint came in, he said the mush had not been + well cooked, and that was the reason the animal would not eat it. He sent + for the cook, and compelled her to eat it. He thought that the woman’s + stomach was stronger than the dog’s; but her sufferings afterwards proved + that he was mistaken. This poor woman endured many cruelties from her + master and mistress; sometimes she was locked up, away from her nursing + baby, for a whole day and night. + </p> + <p> + When I had been in the family a few weeks, one of the plantation slaves + was brought to town, by order of his master. It was near night when he + arrived, and Dr. Flint ordered him to be taken to the work house, and tied + up to the joist, so that his feet would just escape the ground. In that + situation he was to wait till the doctor had taken his tea. I shall never + forget that night. Never before, in my life, had I heard hundreds of blows + fall; in succession, on a human being. His piteous groans, and his “O, + pray don’t, massa,” rang in my ear for months afterwards. There were many + conjectures as to the cause of this terrible punishment. Some said master + accused him of stealing corn; others said the slave had quarrelled with + his wife, in presence of the overseer, and had accused his master of being + the father of her child. They were both black, and the child was very + fair. + </p> + <p> + I went into the work house next morning, and saw the cowhide still wet + with blood, and the boards all covered with gore. The poor man lived, and + continued to quarrel with his wife. A few months afterwards Dr. Flint + handed them both over to a slave-trader. The guilty man put their value + into his pocket, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they were out of + sight and hearing. When the mother was delivered into the trader’s hands, + she said. “You <i>promised</i> to treat me well.” To which he replied, + “You have let your tongue run too far; damn you!” She had forgotten that + it was a crime for a slave to tell who was the father of her child. + </p> + <p> + From others than the master persecution also comes in such cases. I once + saw a young slave girl dying soon after the birth of a child nearly white. + In her agony she cried out, “O Lord, come and take me!” Her mistress stood + by, and mocked at her like an incarnate fiend. “You suffer, do you?” she + exclaimed. “I am glad of it. You deserve it all, and more too.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s mother said, “The baby is dead, thank God; and I hope my poor + child will soon be in heaven, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven!” retorted the mistress. “There is no such place for the like of + her and her bastard.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother turned away, sobbing. Her dying daughter called her, + feebly, and as she bent over her, I heard her say, “Don’t grieve so, + mother; God knows all about it; and HE will have mercy upon me.” + </p> + <p> + Her sufferings, afterwards, became so intense, that her mistress felt + unable to stay; but when she left the room, the scornful smile was still + on her lips. Seven children called her mother. The poor black woman had + but the one child, whose eyes she saw closing in death, while she thanked + God for taking her away from the greater bitterness of life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + III. The Slaves’ New Year’s Day. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint owned a fine residence in town, several farms, and about fifty + slaves, besides hiring a number by the year. + </p> + <p> + Hiring day at the south takes place on the 1st of January. On the 2d, the + slaves are expected to go to their new masters. On a farm, they work until + the corn and cotton are laid. They then have two holidays. Some masters + give them a good dinner under the trees. This over, they work until + Christmas eve. If no heavy charges are meantime brought against them, they + are given four or five holidays, whichever the master or overseer may + think proper. Then comes New Year’s eve; and they gather together their + little alls, or more properly speaking, their little nothings, and wait + anxiously for the dawning of day. At the appointed hour the grounds are + thronged with men, women, and children, waiting, like criminals, to hear + their doom pronounced. The slave is sure to know who is the most humane, + or cruel master, within forty miles of him. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to find out, on that day, who clothes and feeds his slaves + well; for he is surrounded by a crowd, begging, “Please, massa, hire me + this year. I will work <i>very</i> hard, massa.” + </p> + <p> + If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or + locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away + during the year. Should he chance to change his mind, thinking it + justifiable to violate an extorted promise, woe unto him if he is caught! + The whip is used till the blood flows at his feet; and his stiffened limbs + are put in chains, to be dragged in the field for days and days! + </p> + <p> + If he lives until the next year, perhaps the same man will hire him again, + without even giving him an opportunity of going to the hiring-ground. + After those for hire are disposed of, those for sale are called up. + </p> + <p> + O, you happy free women, contrast <i>your</i> New Year’s day with that of + the poor bondwoman! With you it is a pleasant season, and the light of + the day is blessed. Friendly wishes meet you every where, and gifts are + showered upon you. Even hearts that have been estranged from you soften at + this season, and lips that have been silent echo back, “I wish you a happy + New Year.” Children bring their little offerings, and raise their rosy + lips for a caress. They are your own, and no hand but that of death can + take them from you. + </p> + <p> + But to the slave mother New Year’s day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. + She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be + torn from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they + might die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded + by the system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a + mother’s instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother’s agonies. + </p> + <p> + On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the + auction block. She knew that <i>some</i> of them would be taken from her; + but they took <i>all</i>. The children were sold to a slave-trader, and + their mother was bought by a man in her own town. Before night her + children were all far away. She begged the trader to tell her where he + intended to take them; this he refused to do. How <i>could</i> he, when he + knew he would sell them, one by one, wherever he could command the highest + price? I met that mother in the street, and her wild, haggard face lives + to-day in my mind. She wrung her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, “Gone! + All gone! Why <i>don’t</i> God kill me?” I had no words wherewith to + comfort her. Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of hourly + occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Slaveholders have a method, peculiar to their institution, of getting rid + of <i>old</i> slaves, whose lives have been worn out in their service. I + knew an old woman, who for seventy years faithfully served her master. She + had become almost helpless, from hard labor and disease. Her owners moved + to Alabama, and the old black woman was left to be sold to any body who + would give twenty dollars for her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + IV. The Slave Who Dared To Feel Like A Man. + </h2> + <p> + Two years had passed since I entered Dr. Flint’s family, and those years + had brought much of the knowledge that comes from experience, though they + had afforded little opportunity for any other kinds of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had, as much as possible, been a mother to her orphan + grandchildren. By perseverance and unwearied industry, she was now + mistress of a snug little home, surrounded with the necessaries of life. + She would have been happy could her children have shared them with her. + There remained but three children and two grandchildren, all slaves. Most + earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God: that + He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances; and though it seemed + hard, we ought to pray for contentment. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her + children her own. But I, and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. We + reasoned that it was much more the will of God that we should be situated + as she was. We longed for a home like hers. There we always found sweet + balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always + met us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She + spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. + There was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things + for the town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our + hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully + made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother + William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master + that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He + came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. + It was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing + here and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose + restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom + to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that + scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad + I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and + swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague. + </p> + <p> + When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in + <i>every</i> thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and + should surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong. + </p> + <p> + So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither + saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded + close beside me. “Linda,” said he, “what makes you look so sad? I love + you. O, Linda, isn’t this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and + unhappy. I wish I had died when poor father did.” + </p> + <p> + I told him that every body was <i>not</i> cross, or unhappy; that those + who had pleasant homes, and kind friends, and who were not afraid to love + them, were happy. But we, who were slave-children, without father or + mother, could not expect to be happy. We must be good; perhaps that would + bring us contentment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I try to be good; but what’s the use? They are all the + time troubling me.” Then he proceeded to relate his afternoon’s difficulty + with young master Nicholas. It seemed that the brother of master Nicholas + had pleased himself with making up stories about William. Master Nicholas + said he should be flogged, and he would do it. Whereupon he went to work; + but William fought bravely, and the young master, finding he was getting + the better of him, undertook to tie his hands behind him. He failed in + that likewise. By dint of kicking and fisting, William came out of the + skirmish none the worse for a few scratches. + </p> + <p> + He continued to discourse, on his young master’s <i>meanness</i>; how he + whipped the <i>little</i> boys, but was a perfect coward when a tussle + ensued between him and white boys of his own size. On such occasions he + always took to his legs. William had other charges to make against him. + One was his rubbing up pennies with quicksilver, and passing them off for + quarters of a dollar on an old man who kept a fruit stall. William was + often sent to buy fruit, and he earnestly inquired of me what he ought to + do under such circumstances. I told him it was certainly wrong to deceive + the old man, and that it was his duty to tell him of the impositions + practised by his young master. I assured him the old man would not be slow + to comprehend the whole, and there the matter would end. William thought + it might with the old man, but not with <i>him</i>. He said he did not + mind the smart of the whip, but he did not like the <i>idea</i> of being + whipped. + </p> + <p> + While I advised him to be good and forgiving I was not unconscious of the + beam in my own eye. It was the very knowledge of my own shortcomings that + urged me to retain, if possible, some sparks of my brother’s God-given + nature. I had not lived fourteen years in slavery for nothing. I had felt, + seen, and heard enough, to read the characters, and question the motives, + of those around me. The war of my life had begun; and though one of God’s + most powerless creatures, I resolved never to be conquered. Alas, for me! + </p> + <p> + If there was one pure, sunny spot for me, I believed it to be in + Benjamin’s heart, and in another’s, whom I loved with all the ardor of a + girl’s first love. My owner knew of it, and sought in every way to render + me miserable. He did not resort to corporal punishment, but to all the + petty, tyrannical ways that human ingenuity could devise. + </p> + <p> + I remember the first time I was punished. It was in the month of February. + My grandmother had taken my old shoes, and replaced them with a new pair. + I needed them; for several inches of snow had fallen, and it still + continued to fall. When I walked through Mrs. Flint’s room, their creaking + grated harshly on her refined nerves. She called me to her, and asked what + I had about me that made such a horrid noise. I told her it was my new + shoes. “Take them off,” said she; “and if you put them on again, I’ll + throw them into the fire.” + </p> + <p> + I took them off, and my stockings also. She then sent me a long distance, + on an errand. As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled. That night + I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me + sick, perhaps dead. What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well! + </p> + <p> + I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress + would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the little imp,” as + she styled me. It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such + extravagant imaginings. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, + “She don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, and I have no + right to sell her.” Good, honest man! My young mistress was still a child, + and I could look for no protection from her. I loved her, and she returned + my affection. I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and + his wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear. This put unpleasant + doubts into my mind. Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her + mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me? I concluded it must + be the latter. I said to myself, “Surely, little children are true.” + </p> + <p> + One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits. + My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I + was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, + that she believed I was telling a lie. + </p> + <p> + I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny + paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me. As I sat musing + thus, the door opened softly, and William came in. “Well, brother,” said + I, “what is the matter this time?” + </p> + <p> + “O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was that Benjamin was killed. “Don’t be frightened, + Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not + immediately obey the summons. When he did, his master was angry, and began + to whip him. He resisted. Master and slave fought, and finally the master + was thrown. Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground + his master—one of the richest men in town. I anxiously awaited the + result. + </p> + <p> + That night I stole to my grandmother’s house; and Benjamin also stole + thither from his master’s. My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two + with an old friend living in the country. + </p> + <p> + “I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by. I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + I inquired where. + </p> + <p> + “To the north,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest. I saw it all in his + firm, set mouth. I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my + words. He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more + galling. He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly + whipped for the offence. I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he + must encounter among strangers. I told him he might be caught and brought + back; and that was terrible to think of. + </p> + <p> + He grew vexed, and asked if poverty and hardships with freedom, were not + preferable to our treatment in slavery. “Linda,” he continued, “we are + dogs here; foot-balls, cattle, every thing that’s mean. No, I will not + stay. Let them bring me back. We don’t die but once.” + </p> + <p> + He was right; but it was hard to give him up. “Go,” said I, “and break + your mother’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + I repented of my words ere they were out. + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, speaking as I had not heard him speak that evening, “how + <i>could</i> you say that? Poor mother! be kind to her, Linda; and you, + too, cousin Fanny.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Fanny was a friend who had lived some years with us. + </p> + <p> + Farewells were exchanged, and the bright, kind boy, endeared to us by so + many acts of love, vanished from our sight. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to state how he made his escape. Suffice it to say, he + was on his way to New York when a violent storm overtook the vessel. The + captain said he must put into the nearest port. This alarmed Benjamin, who + was aware that he would be advertised in every port near his own town. His + embarrassment was noticed by the captain. To port they went. There the + advertisement met the captain’s eye. Benjamin so exactly answered its + description, that the captain laid hold on him, and bound him in chains. + The storm passed, and they proceeded to New York. Before reaching that + port Benjamin managed to get off his chains and throw them overboard. He + escaped from the vessel, but was pursued, captured, and carried back to + his master. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother returned home and found her youngest child had fled, + great was her sorrow; but, with characteristic piety, she said, “God’s + will be done.” Each morning, she inquired if any news had been heard from + her boy. Yes, news <i>was</i> heard. The master was rejoicing over a + letter, announcing the capture of his human chattel. + </p> + <p> + That day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led + through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale, yet + full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go to his + mother’s house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight of her + distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned to see him, and + she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her + child had said. + </p> + <p> + We were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years, + and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door for my + grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell not + a sound broke the stillness. “Benjamin, Benjamin!” whispered my + grandmother. No answer. “Benjamin!” she again faltered. There was a jingle + of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through + the bars of the window. We knelt down and took Benjamin’s cold hands in + ours. We did not speak. Sobs were heard, and Benjamin’s lips were + unsealed; for his mother was weeping on his neck. How vividly does memory + bring back that sad night! Mother and son talked together. He asked her + pardon for the suffering he had caused her. She said she had nothing to + forgive; she could not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when + he was captured, he broke away, and was about casting himself into the + river, when thoughts of <i>her</i> came over him, and he desisted. She + asked if he did not also think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow + fierce in the moonlight. He answered, “No, I did not think of him. When a + man is hunted like a wild beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He + forgets every thing in his struggle to get beyond the reach of the + bloodhounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk so, Benjamin,” said she. “Put your trust in God. Be humble, my + child, and your master will forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me for <i>what</i>, mother? For not letting him treat me like a + dog? No! I will never humble myself to him. I have worked for him for + nothing all my life, and I am repaid with stripes and imprisonment. Here I + will stay till I die, or till he sells me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor mother shuddered at his words. I think he felt it; for when he + next spoke, his voice was calmer. “Don’t fret about me, mother. I ain’t + worth it,” said he. “I wish I had some of your goodness. You bear every + thing patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I + could.” + </p> + <p> + She told him she had not always been so; once, she was like him; but when + sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned + to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do + likewise. + </p> + <p> + We overstaid our time, and were obliged to hurry from the jail. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin had been imprisoned three weeks, when my grandmother went to + intercede for him with his master. He was immovable. He said Benjamin + should serve as an example to the rest of his slaves; he should be kept in + jail till he was subdued, or be sold if he got but one dollar for him. + However, he afterwards relented in some degree. The chains were taken off, + and we were allowed to visit him. + </p> + <p> + As his food was of the coarsest kind, we carried him as often as possible + a warm supper, accompanied with some little luxury for the jailer. + </p> + <p> + Three months elapsed, and there was no prospect of release or of a + purchaser. One day he was heard to sing and laugh. This piece of indecorum + was told to his master, and the overseer was ordered to re-chain him. He + was now confined in an apartment with other prisoners, who were covered + with filthy rags. Benjamin was chained near them, and was soon covered + with vermin. He worked at his chains till he succeeded in getting out of + them. He passed them through the bars of the window, with a request that + they should be taken to his master, and he should be informed that he was + covered with vermin. + </p> + <p> + This audacity was punished with heavier chains, and prohibition of our + visits. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother continued to send him fresh changes of clothes. The old + ones were burned up. The last night we saw him in jail his mother still + begged him to send for his master, and beg his pardon. Neither persuasion + nor argument could turn him from his purpose. He calmly answered, “I am + waiting his time.” + </p> + <p> + Those chains were mournful to hear. + </p> + <p> + Another three months passed, and Benjamin left his prison walls. We that + loved him waited to bid him a long and last farewell. A slave-trader had + bought him. You remember, I told you what price he brought when ten years + of age. Now he was more than twenty years old, and sold for three hundred + dollars. The master had been blind to his own interest. Long confinement + had made his face too pale, his form too thin; moreover, the trader had + heard something of his character, and it did not strike him as suitable + for a slave. He said he would give any price if the handsome lad was a + girl. We thanked God that he was not. + </p> + <p> + Could you have seen that mother clinging to her child, when they fastened + the irons upon his wrists; could you have heard her heart-rending groans, + and seen her bloodshot eyes wander wildly from face to face, vainly + pleading for mercy; could you have witnessed that scene as I saw it, you + would exclaim, <i>Slavery is damnable</i>! Benjamin, her youngest, her + pet, was forever gone! She could not realize it. She had had an interview + with the trader for the purpose of ascertaining if Benjamin could be + purchased. She was told it was impossible, as he had given bonds not to + sell him till he was out of the state. He promised that he would not sell + him till he reached New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + With a strong arm and unvaried trust, my grandmother began her work of + love. Benjamin must be free. If she succeeded, she knew they would still + be separated; but the sacrifice was not too great. Day and night she + labored. The trader’s price would treble that he gave; but she was not + discouraged. + </p> + <p> + She employed a lawyer to write to a gentleman, whom she knew, in New + Orleans. She begged him to interest himself for Benjamin, and he willingly + favored her request. When he saw Benjamin, and stated his business, he + thanked him; but said he preferred to wait a while before making the + trader an offer. He knew he had tried to obtain a high price for him, and + had invariably failed. This encouraged him to make another effort for + freedom. So one morning, long before day, Benjamin was missing. He was + riding over the blue billows, bound for Baltimore. + </p> + <p> + For once his white face did him a kindly service. They had no suspicion + that it belonged to a slave; otherwise, the law would have been followed + out to the letter, and the <i>thing</i> rendered back to slavery. The + brightest skies are often overshadowed by the darkest clouds. Benjamin was + taken sick, and compelled to remain in Baltimore three weeks. His strength + was slow in returning; and his desire to continue his journey seemed to + retard his recovery. How could he get strength without air and exercise? + He resolved to venture on a short walk. A by-street was selected, where he + thought himself secure of not being met by any one that knew him; but a + voice called out, “Halloo, Ben, my boy! what are you doing <i>here</i>!” + </p> + <p> + His first impulse was to run; but his legs trembled so that he could not + stir. He turned to confront his antagonist, and behold, there stood his + old master’s next door neighbor! He thought it was all over with him now; + but it proved otherwise. That man was a miracle. He possessed a goodly + number of slaves, and yet was not quite deaf to that mystic clock, whose + ticking is rarely heard in the slaveholder’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Ben, you are sick,” said he. “Why, you look like a ghost. I guess I gave + you something of a start. Never mind, Ben, I am not going to touch you. + You had a pretty tough time of it, and you may go on your way rejoicing + for all me. But I would advise you to get out of this place plaguy quick, + for there are several gentlemen here from our town.” He described the + nearest and safest route to New York, and added, “I shall be glad to tell + your mother I have seen you. Good by, Ben.” + </p> + <p> + Benjamin turned away, filled with gratitude, and surprised that the town + he hated contained such a gem—a gem worthy of a purer setting. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman was a Northerner by birth, and had married a southern lady. + On his return, he told my grandmother that he had seen her son, and of the + service he had rendered him. + </p> + <p> + Benjamin reached New York safely, and concluded to stop there until he had + gained strength enough to proceed further. It happened that my + grandmother’s only remaining son had sailed for the same city on business + for his mistress. Through God’s providence, the brothers met. You may be + sure it was a happy meeting. “O Phil,” exclaimed Benjamin, “I am here at + last.” Then he told him how near he came to dying, almost in sight of free + land, and how he prayed that he might live to get one breath of free air. + He said life was worth something now, and it would be hard to die. In the + old jail he had not valued it; once, he was tempted to destroy it; but + something, he did not know what, had prevented him; perhaps it was fear. + He had heard those who profess to be religious declare there was no heaven + for self-murderers; and as his life had been pretty hot here, he did not + desire a continuation of the same in another world. “If I die now,” he + exclaimed, “thank God, I shall die a freeman!” + </p> + <p> + He begged my uncle Phillip not to return south; but stay and work with + him, till they earned enough to buy those at home. His brother told him it + would kill their mother if he deserted her in her trouble. She had pledged + her house, and with difficulty had raised money to buy him. Would he be + bought? + </p> + <p> + “No, never!” he replied. “Do you suppose, Phil, when I have got so far out + of their clutches, I will give them one red cent? No! And do you suppose I + would turn mother out of her home in her old age? That I would let her pay + all those hard-earned dollars for me, and never to see me? For you know + she will stay south as long as her other children are slaves. What a good + mother! Tell her to buy <i>you</i>, Phil. You have been a comfort to her, + and I have been a trouble. And Linda, poor Linda; what’ll become of her? + Phil, you don’t know what a life they lead her. She has told me something + about it, and I wish old Flint was dead, or a better man. When I was in + jail, he asked her if she didn’t want <i>him</i> to ask my master to + forgive me, and take me home again. She told him, No; that I didn’t want + to go back. He got mad, and said we were all alike. I never despised my + own master half as much as I do that man. There is many a worse + slaveholder than my master; but for all that I would not be his slave.” + </p> + <p> + While Benjamin was sick, he had parted with nearly all his clothes to pay + necessary expenses. But he did not part with a little pin I fastened in + his bosom when we parted. It was the most valuable thing I owned, and I + thought none more worthy to wear it. He had it still. + </p> + <p> + His brother furnished him with clothes, and gave him what money he had. + </p> + <p> + They parted with moistened eyes; and as Benjamin turned away, he said, + “Phil, I part with all my kindred.” And so it proved. We never heard from + him again. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip came home; and the first words he uttered when he entered + the house were, “Mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York.” She + stood looking at him with a bewildered air. “Mother, don’t you believe + it?” he said, laying his hand softly upon her shoulder. She raised her + hands, and exclaimed, “God be praised! Let us thank him.” She dropped on + her knees, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Then Phillip must sit + down and repeat to her every word Benjamin had said. He told her all; only + he forbore to mention how sick and pale her darling looked. Why should he + distress her when she could do him no good? + </p> + <p> + The brave old woman still toiled on, hoping to rescue some of her other + children. After a while she succeeded in buying Phillip. She paid eight + hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his + freedom. The happy mother and son sat together by the old hearthstone that + night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove + to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long + taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, “He that is <i>willing</i> + to be a slave, let him be a slave.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + V. The Trials Of Girlhood. + </h2> + <p> + During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint’s family, I was + accustomed to share some indulgences with the children of my mistress. + Though this seemed to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and + tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge of my duties. But I + now entered on my fifteenth year—a sad epoch in the life of a slave + girl. My master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young as I was, I + could not remain ignorant of their import. I tried to treat them with + indifference or contempt. The master’s age, my extreme youth, and the fear + that his conduct would be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this + treatment for many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means + to accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways, that + made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness that he + thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy moods, + although they left me trembling. He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure + principles my grandmother had instilled. He peopled my young mind with + unclean images, such as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from + him with disgust and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live + under the same roof with him—where I saw a man forty years my senior + daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told me I was + his property; that I must be subject to his will in all things. My soul + revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could I turn for protection? + No matter whether the slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her + mistress. In either case, there is no shadow of law to protect her from + insult, from violence, or even from death; all these are inflicted by + fiends who bear the shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect the + helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her but those of jealousy + and rage. The degradation, the wrongs, the vices, that grow out of + slavery, are more than I can describe. They are greater than you would + willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half the truths that are + told you concerning the helpless millions suffering in this cruel bondage, + you at the north would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would + refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean and cruel work + which trained bloodhounds and the lowest class of whites do for him at the + south. + </p> + <p> + Every where the years bring to all enough of sin and sorrow; but in + slavery the very dawn of life is darkened by these shadows. Even the + little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her children, + will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it is that her mistress + hates such and such a one among the slaves. Perhaps the child’s own mother + is among those hated ones. She listens to violent outbreaks of jealous + passion, and cannot help understanding what is the cause. She will become + prematurely knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to tremble when + she hears her master’s footfall. She will be compelled to realize that she + is no longer a child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove + her greatest curse. That which commands admiration in the white woman only + hastens the degradation of the female slave. I know that some are too much + brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of their position; but many + slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot + tell how much I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor how I am + still pained by the retrospect. My master met me at every turn, reminding + me that I belonged to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he would + compel me to submit to him. If I went out for a breath of fresh air, after + a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my + mother’s grave, his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light heart + which nature had given me became heavy with sad forebodings. The other + slaves in my master’s house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; + but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew + too well the guilty practices under that roof; and they were aware that to + speak of them was an offence that never went unpunished. + </p> + <p> + I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world to have + laid my head on my grandmother’s faithful bosom, and told her all my + troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as silent as + the grave. Then, although my grandmother was all in all to me, I feared + her as well as loved her. I had been accustomed to look up to her with a + respect bordering upon awe. I was very young, and felt shamefaced about + telling her such impure things, especially as I knew her to be very strict + on such subjects. Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit. She was + usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if her indignation was once + roused, it was not very easily quelled. I had been told that she once + chased a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he insulted one of + her daughters. I dreaded the consequences of a violent outbreak; and both + pride and fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide in my + grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness and inquiry, her + presence in the neighborhood was some protection to me. Though she had + been a slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her scorching + rebukes. Moreover, she was known and patronized by many people; and he did + not wish to have his villainy made public. It was lucky for me that I did + not live on a distant plantation, but in a town not so large that the + inhabitants were ignorant of each other’s affairs. Bad as are the laws and + customs in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a professional man, + deemed it prudent to keep up some outward show of decency. + </p> + <p> + O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that man caused me! Reader, it + is not to awaken sympathy for myself that I am telling you truthfully what + I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of compassion in your + hearts for my sisters who are still in bondage, suffering as I once + suffered. + </p> + <p> + I once saw two beautiful children playing together. One was a fair white + child; the other was her slave, and also her sister. When I saw them + embracing each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned sadly away + from the lovely sight. I foresaw the inevitable blight that would fall on + the little slave’s heart. I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to + sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer woman. From childhood + to womanhood her pathway was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a + sunny sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded when the sun rose + on her happy bridal morning. + </p> + <p> + How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the little playmate of + her childhood? She, also, was very beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine + of love were not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame, and misery, + whereof her persecuted race are compelled to drink. + </p> + <p> + In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free men and women of the + north? Why do your tongues falter in maintenance of the right? Would that + I had more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is so weak! There + are noble men and women who plead for us, striving to help those who + cannot help themselves. God bless them! God give them strength and courage + to go on! God bless those, every where, who are laboring to advance the + cause of humanity! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + VI. The Jealous Mistress. + </h2> + <p> + I would ten thousand times rather that my children should be the + half-starved paupers of Ireland than to be the most pampered among the + slaves of America. I would rather drudge out my life on a cotton + plantation, till the grave opened to give me rest, than to live with an + unprincipled master and a jealous mistress. The felon’s home in a + penitentiary is preferable. He may repent, and turn from the error of his + ways, and so find peace; but it is not so with a favorite slave. She is + not allowed to have any pride of character. It is deemed a crime in her to + wish to be virtuous. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint possessed the key to her husband’s character before I was born. + She might have used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and + the innocent among her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were + the objects of her constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her + husband with unceasing vigilance; but he was well practised in means to + evade it. What he could not find opportunity to say in words he manifested + in signs. He invented more than were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb + asylum. I let them pass, as if I did not understand what he meant; and + many were the curses and threats bestowed on me for my stupidity. One day + he caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned, as if he was not well + pleased; but I suppose he came to the conclusion that such an + accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long, + notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, “I + can’t read them, sir.” “Can’t you?” he replied; “then I must read them to + you.” He always finished the reading by asking, “Do you understand?” + Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and order his + supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat himself + there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush away + the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These + intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly + throwing away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited + my stubborn disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had + exercised towards me, and reminded me that there was a limit to his + patience. When I succeeded in avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me + at home, I was ordered to come to his office, to do some errand. When + there, I was obliged to stand and listen to such language as he saw fit to + address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed my contempt for him that he + would become violently enraged, and I wondered why he did not strike me. + Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was better policy to be + forebearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse daily. In + desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother for + protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made + any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally + of a buoyant disposition, and always I had a hope of somehow getting out + of his clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that + some threads of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. + </p> + <p> + I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent + that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently + passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself, and + he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect, she was + never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were too vile for her + to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so bitterly, had far more pity + for her than he had, whose duty it was to make her life happy. I never + wronged her, or wished to wrong her, and one word of kindness from her + would have brought me to her feet. + </p> + <p> + After repeated quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his + intention to take his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in + his apartment. It was necessary that a servant should sleep in the same + room, to be on hand if the child stirred. I was selected for that office, + and informed for what purpose that arrangement had been made. By managing + to keep within sight of people, as much as possible, during the day time, + I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my master, though a razor was often + held to my throat to force me to change this line of policy. At night I + slept by the side of my great aunt, where I felt safe. He was too prudent + to come into her room. She was an old woman, and had been in the family + many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional man, he deemed + it necessary to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved to remove + the obstacle in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned it so + that he should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my + refuge by the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of + it. The first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The + next morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following + night. A kind Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint + heard of this new arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it + rage. + </p> + <p> + After a while my mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first + question was, “Did you know you were to sleep in the doctor’s room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “My master.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer truly all the questions I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I + have accused you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + She handed me a Bible, and said, “Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this + holy book, and swear before God that you tell me the truth.” + </p> + <p> + I took the oath she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken God’s holy word to testify your innocence,” said she. “If + you have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me + directly in the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master + and you.” + </p> + <p> + I did as she ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed + frequently, she wept, and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, + that I was touched by her grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon + convinced that her emotions arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt + that her marriage vows were desecrated, her dignity insulted; but she had + no compassion for the poor victim of her husband’s perfidy. She pitied + herself as a martyr; but she was incapable of feeling for the condition of + shame and misery in which her unfortunate, helpless slave was placed. Yet + perhaps she had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was + ended, she spoke kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been + much comforted by this assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but + my experiences in slavery had filled me with distrust. She was not a very + refined woman, and had not much control over her passions. I was an object + of her jealousy, and, consequently, of her hatred; and I knew I could not + expect kindness or confidence from her under the circumstances in which I + was placed. I could not blame her. Slaveholders’ wives feel as other women + would under similar circumstances. The fire of her temper kindled from + small-sparks, and now the flame became so intense that the doctor was + obliged to give up his intended arrangement. + </p> + <p> + I knew I had ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it + afterwards; but I felt too thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she + rendered me to care much about that. She now took me to sleep in a room + adjoining her own. There I was an object of her especial care, though not + to her especial comfort, for she spent many a sleepless night to watch + over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her bending over me. At other + times she whispered in my ear, as though it was her husband who was + speaking to me, and listened to hear what I would answer. If she startled + me, on such occasions, she would glide stealthily away; and the next + morning she would tell me I had been talking in my sleep, and ask who I + was talking to. At last, I began to be fearful for my life. It had been + often threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an + unpleasant sensation it must produce to wake up in the dead of night and + find a jealous woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I + had fears that it would give place to one more terrible. + </p> + <p> + My mistress grew weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She + changed her tactics. She now tried the trick of accusing my master of + crime, in my presence, and gave my name as the author of the accusation. + To my utter astonishment, he replied, “I don’t believe it; but if she did + acknowledge it, you tortured her into exposing me.” Tortured into exposing + him! Truly, Satan had no difficulty in distinguishing the color of his + soul! I understood his object in making this false representation. It was + to show me that I gained nothing by seeking the protection of my mistress; + that the power was still all in his own hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She + was a second wife, many years the junior of her husband; and the + hoary-headed miscreant was enough to try the patience of a wiser and + better woman. She was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed. She + would gladly have had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I + have already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old + sinner was politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks + that would have exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. + How often did I rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants + knew each other! If I had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the + multitude of a crowded city, I should not be a living woman at this day. + </p> + <p> + The secrets of slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My + master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the + mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children? Did the other + slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among themselves? No, + indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. + She was uneasy about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the + never-changing answer was always repeated: “Linda does not belong to <i>me</i>. + She is my daughter’s property, and I have no legal right to sell her.” The + conscientious man! He was too scrupulous to <i>sell</i> me; but he had no + scruples whatever about committing a much greater wrong against the + helpless young girl placed under his guardianship, as his daughter’s + property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask me whether I would like to be + sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any body than to lead such a + life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the air of a very injured + individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. “Did I not take you into + the house, and make you the companion of my own children?” he would say. + “Have <i>I</i> ever treated you like a negro? I have never allowed you to + be punished, not even to please your mistress. And this is the recompense + I get, you ungrateful girl!” I answered that he had reasons of his own for + screening me from punishment, and that the course he pursued made my + mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say, “Poor child! + Don’t cry! don’t cry! I will make peace for you with your mistress. Only + let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you don’t know + what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady of + you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you.” + </p> + <p> + I did think of it. + </p> + <p> + Reader, I draw no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you + the plain truth. Yet when victims make their escape from the wild beast of + Slavery, northerners consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the + poor fugitive back into his den, “full of dead men’s bones, and all + uncleanness.” Nay, more, they are not only willing, but proud, to give + their daughters in marriage to slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic + notions of a sunny clime, and of the flowering vines that all the year + round shade a happy home. To what disappointments are they destined! The + young wife soon learns that the husband in whose hands she has placed her + happiness pays no regard to his marriage vows. Children of every shade of + complexion play with her own fair babies, and too well she knows that they + are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy and hatred enter the + flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. + </p> + <p> + Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many + little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They regard such + children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it + is seldom that they do not make them aware of this by passing them into + the slave-trader’s hands as soon as possible, and thus getting them out of + their sight. I am glad to say there are some honorable exceptions. + </p> + <p> + I have myself known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free + those slaves towards whom they stood in a “parental relation;” and their + request was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness + of their wives’ natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that + which it was their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered + their conduct more exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence + took the place of distrust. + </p> + <p> + Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, + to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern + ladies say of Mr. Such a one, “He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the + father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself + their master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any + decent society!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + VII. The Lover. + </h2> + <p> + Why does the slave ever love? Why allow the tendrils of the heart to twine + around objects which may at any moment be wrenched away by the hand of + violence? When separations come by the hand of death, the pious soul can + bow in resignation, and say, “Not my will, but thine be done, O Lord!” But + when the ruthless hand of man strikes the blow, regardless of the misery + he causes, it is hard to be submissive. I did not reason thus when I was a + young girl. Youth will be youth. I loved and I indulged the hope that the + dark clouds around me would turn out a bright lining. I forgot that in the + land of my birth the shadows are too dense for light to penetrate. A land + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Where laughter is not mirth; nor thought the mind;<br /> + Nor words a language; nor e’en men mankind.<br /> + Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows,<br /> + And each is tortured in his separate hell. +</div> + <p> + There was in the neighborhood a young colored carpenter; a free-born man. + We had been well acquainted in childhood, and frequently met together + afterwards. We became mutually attached, and he proposed to marry me. I + loved him with all the ardor of a young girl’s first love. But when I + reflected that I was a slave, and that the laws gave no sanction to the + marriage of such, my heart sank within me. My lover wanted to buy me; but + I knew that Dr. Flint was too willful and arbitrary a man to consent to + that arrangement. From him, I was sure of experiencing all sort of + opposition, and I had nothing to hope from my mistress. She would have + been delighted to have got rid of me, but not in that way. It would have + relieved her mind of a burden if she could have seen me sold to some + distant state, but if I was married near home I should be just as much in + her husband’s power as I had previously been,—for the husband of a + slave has no power to protect her. Moreover, my mistress, like many + others, seemed to think that slaves had no right to any family ties of + their own; that they were created merely to wait upon the family of the + mistress. I once heard her abuse a young slave girl, who told her that a + colored man wanted to make her his wife. “I will have you peeled and + pickled, my lady,” said she, “if I ever hear you mention that subject + again. Do you suppose that I will have you tending <i>my</i> children with + the children of that nigger?” The girl to whom she said this had a mulatto + child, of course not acknowledged by its father. The poor black man who + loved her would have been proud to acknowledge his helpless offspring. + </p> + <p> + Many and anxious were the thoughts I revolved in my mind. I was at a loss + what to do. Above all things, I was desirous to spare my lover the insults + that had cut so deeply into my own soul. I talked with my grandmother + about it, and partly told her my fears. I did not dare to tell her the + worst. She had long suspected all was not right, and if I confirmed her + suspicions I knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all + my hopes. + </p> + <p> + This love-dream had been my support through many trials; and I could not + bear to run the risk of having it suddenly dissipated. There was a lady in + the neighborhood, a particular friend of Dr. Flint’s, who often visited + the house. I had a great respect for her, and she had always manifested a + friendly interest in me. Grandmother thought she would have great + influence with the doctor. I went to this lady, and told her my story. I + told her I was aware that my lover’s being a free-born man would prove a + great objection; but he wanted to buy me; and if Dr. Flint would consent + to that arrangement, I felt sure he would be willing to pay any reasonable + price. She knew that Mrs. Flint disliked me; therefore, I ventured to + suggest that perhaps my mistress would approve of my being sold, as that + would rid her of me. The lady listened with kindly sympathy, and promised + to do her utmost to promote my wishes. She had an interview with the + doctor, and I believe she pleaded my cause earnestly; but it was all to no + purpose. + </p> + <p> + How I dreaded my master now! Every minute I expected to be summoned to his + presence; but the day passed, and I heard nothing from him. The next + morning, a message was brought to me: “Master wants you in his study.” I + found the door ajar, and I stood a moment gazing at the hateful man who + claimed a right to rule me, body and soul. I entered, and tried to appear + calm. I did not want him to know how my heart was bleeding. He looked + fixedly at me, with an expression which seemed to say, “I have half a mind + to kill you on the spot.” At last he broke the silence, and that was a + relief to both of us. + </p> + <p> + “So you want to be married, do you?” said he, “and to a free nigger.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll soon convince you whether I am your master, or the nigger + fellow you honor so highly. If you <i>must</i> have a husband, you may + take up with one of my slaves.” + </p> + <p> + What a situation I should be in, as the wife of one of <i>his</i> slaves, + even if my heart had been interested! + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Don’t you suppose, sir, that a slave can have some preference + about marrying? Do you suppose that all men are alike to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love this nigger?” said he, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you tell me so!” he exclaimed, in great wrath. After a slight + pause, he added, “I supposed you thought more of yourself; that you felt + above the insults of such puppies.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “If he is a puppy, I am a puppy, for we are both of the negro + race. It is right and honorable for us to love each other. The man you + call a puppy never insulted me, sir; and he would not love me if he did + not believe me to be a virtuous woman.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang upon me like a tiger, and gave me a stunning blow. It was the + first time he had ever struck me; and fear did not enable me to control my + anger. When I had recovered a little from the effects, I exclaimed, “You + have struck me for answering you honestly. How I despise you!” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for some minutes. Perhaps he was deciding what should be + my punishment; or, perhaps, he wanted to give me time to reflect on what I + had said, and to whom I had said it. Finally, he asked, “Do you know what + you have said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but your treatment drove me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that I have a right to do as I like with you,—that I + can kill you, if I please?” + </p> + <p> + “You have tried to kill me, and I wish you had; but you have no right to + do as you like with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice. “By heavens, girl, you + forget yourself too far! Are you mad? If you are, I will soon bring you to + your senses. Do you think any other master would bear what I have borne + from you this morning? Many masters would have killed you on the spot. How + would you like to be sent to jail for your insolence?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I have been disrespectful, sir,” I replied; “but you drove me to + it; I couldn’t help it. As for the jail, there would be more peace for me + there than there is here.” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve to go there,” said he, “and to be under such treatment, that + you would forget the meaning of the word <i>peace</i>. It would do you + good. It would take some of your high notions out of you. But I am not + ready to send you there yet, notwithstanding your ingratitude for all my + kindness and forbearance. You have been the plague of my life. I have + wanted to make you happy, and I have been repaid with the basest + ingratitude; but though you have proved yourself incapable of appreciating + my kindness, I will be lenient towards you, Linda. I will give you one + more chance to redeem your character. If you behave yourself and do as I + require, I will forgive you and treat you as I always have done; but if + you disobey me, I will punish you as I would the meanest slave on my + plantation. Never let me hear that fellow’s name mentioned again. If I + ever know of your speaking to him, I will cowhide you both; and if I catch + him lurking about my premises, I will shoot him as soon as I would a dog. + Do you hear what I say? I’ll teach you a lesson about marriage and free + niggers! Now go, and let this be the last time I have occasion to speak to + you on this subject.” + </p> + <p> + Reader, did you ever hate? I hope not. I never did but once; and I trust I + never shall again. Somebody has called it “the atmosphere of hell;” and I + believe it is so. + </p> + <p> + For a fortnight the doctor did not speak to me. He thought to mortify me; + to make me feel that I had disgraced myself by receiving the honorable + addresses of a respectable colored man, in preference to the base + proposals of a white man. But though his lips disdained to address me, his + eyes were very loquacious. No animal ever watched its prey more narrowly + than he watched me. He knew that I could write, though he had failed to + make me read his letters; and he was now troubled lest I should exchange + letters with another man. After a while he became weary of silence; and I + was sorry for it. One morning, as he passed through the hall, to leave the + house, he contrived to thrust a note into my hand. I thought I had better + read it, and spare myself the vexation of having him read it to me. It + expressed regret for the blow he had given me, and reminded me that I + myself was wholly to blame for it. He hoped I had become convinced of the + injury I was doing myself by incurring his displeasure. He wrote that he + had made up his mind to go to Louisiana; that he should take several + slaves with him, and intended I should be one of the number. My mistress + would remain where she was; therefore I should have nothing to fear from + that quarter. If I merited kindness from him, he assured me that it would + be lavishly bestowed. He begged me to think over the matter, and answer + the following day. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I was called to carry a pair of scissors to his room. I + laid them on the table, with the letter beside them. He thought it was my + answer, and did not call me back. I went as usual to attend my young + mistress to and from school. He met me in the street, and ordered me to + stop at his office on my way back. When I entered, he showed me his + letter, and asked me why I had not answered it. I replied, “I am your + daughter’s property, and it is in your power to send me, or take me, + wherever you please.” He said he was very glad to find me so willing to + go, and that we should start early in the autumn. He had a large practice + in the town, and I rather thought he had made up the story merely to + frighten me. However that might be, I was determined that I would never go + to Louisiana with him. + </p> + <p> + Summer passed away, and early in the autumn Dr. Flint’s eldest son was + sent to Louisiana to examine the country, with a view to emigrating. That + news did not disturb me. I knew very well that I should not be sent with + <i>him</i>. That I had not been taken to the plantation before this time, + was owing to the fact that his son was there. He was jealous of his son; + and jealousy of the overseer had kept him from punishing me by sending me + into the fields to work. Is it strange, that I was not proud of these + protectors? As for the overseer, he was a man for whom I had less respect + than I had for a bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Flint did not bring back a favorable report of Louisiana, and I + heard no more of that scheme. Soon after this, my lover met me at the + corner of the street, and I stopped to speak to him. Looking up, I saw my + master watching us from his window. I hurried home, trembling with fear. I + was sent for, immediately, to go to his room. He met me with a blow. “When + is mistress to be married?” said he, in a sneering tone. A shower of oaths + and imprecations followed. How thankful I was that my lover was a free + man! that my tyrant had no power to flog him for speaking to me in the + street! + </p> + <p> + Again and again I revolved in my mind how all this would end. There was no + hope that the doctor would consent to sell me on any terms. He had an iron + will, and was determined to keep me, and to conquer me. My lover was an + intelligent and religious man. Even if he could have obtained permission + to marry me while I was a slave, the marriage would give him no power to + protect me from my master. It would have made him miserable to witness the + insults I should have been subjected to. And then, if we had children, I + knew they must “follow the condition of the mother.” What a terrible + blight that would be on the heart of a free, intelligent father! For <i>his</i> + sake, I felt that I ought not to link his fate with my own unhappy + destiny. He was going to Savannah to see about a little property left him + by an uncle; and hard as it was to bring my feelings to it, I earnestly + entreated him not to come back. I advised him to go to the Free States, + where his tongue would not be tied, and where his intelligence would be of + more avail to him. He left me, still hoping the day would come when I + could be bought. With me the lamp of hope had gone out. The dream of my + girlhood was over. I felt lonely and desolate. + </p> + <p> + Still I was not stripped of all. I still had my good grandmother, and my + affectionate brother. When he put his arms round my neck, and looked into + my eyes, as if to read there the troubles I dared not tell, I felt that I + still had something to love. But even that pleasant emotion was chilled by + the reflection that he might be torn from me at any moment, by some sudden + freak of my master. If he had known how we loved each other, I think he + would have exulted in separating us. We often planned together how we + could get to the north. But, as William remarked, such things are easier + said than done. My movements were very closely watched, and we had no + means of getting any money to defray our expenses. As for grandmother, she + was strongly opposed to her children’s undertaking any such project. She + had not forgotten poor Benjamin’s sufferings, and she was afraid that if + another child tried to escape, he would have a similar or a worse fate. To + me, nothing seemed more dreadful than my present life. I said to myself, + “William <i>must</i> be free. He shall go to the north, and I will follow + him.” Many a slave sister has formed the same plans. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + VIII. What Slaves Are Taught To Think Of The North. + </h2> + <p> + Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you were to + hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would have small + respect for their veracity. I have spoken plain English. Pardon me. I + cannot use a milder term. When they visit the north, and return home, they + tell their slaves of the runaways they have seen, and describe them to be + in the most deplorable condition. A slaveholder once told me that he had + seen a runaway friend of mine in New York, and that she besought him to + take her back to her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; + that many days she had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times + could get nothing at all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew + her master would not thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch to his + house. He ended by saying to me, “This is the punishment she brought on + herself for running away from a kind master.” + </p> + <p> + This whole story was false. I afterwards staid with that friend in New + York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had never thought of + such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery. Many of the slaves believe + such stories, and think it is not worth while to exchange slavery for such + a hard kind of freedom. It is difficult to persuade such that freedom + could make them useful men, and enable them to protect their wives and + children. If those heathen in our Christian land had as much teaching as + some Hindoos, they would think otherwise. They would know that liberty is + more valuable than life. They would begin to understand their own + capabilities, and exert themselves to become men and women. + </p> + <p> + But while the Free States sustain a law which hurls fugitives back into + slavery, how can the slaves resolve to become men? There are some who + strive to protect wives and daughters from the insults of their masters; + but those who have such sentiments have had advantages above the general + mass of slaves. They have been partially civilized and Christianized by + favorable circumstances. Some are bold enough to <i>utter</i> such + sentiments to their masters. O, that there were more of them! + </p> + <p> + Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they will + sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their wives and + daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong to an inferior + order of beings? What would <i>you</i> be, if you had been born and + brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors? I admit that + the black man <i>is</i> inferior. But what is it that makes him so? It is + the ignorance in which white men compel him to live; it is the torturing + whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the fierce bloodhounds of the + South, and the scarcely less cruel human bloodhounds of the north, who + enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. <i>They</i> do the work. + </p> + <p> + Southern gentlemen indulge in the most contemptuous expressions about the + Yankees, while they, on their part, consent to do the vilest work for + them, such as the ferocious bloodhounds and the despised negro-hunters are + employed to do at home. When southerners go to the north, they are proud + to do them honor; but the northern man is not welcome south of Mason and + Dixon’s line, unless he suppresses every thought and feeling at variance + with their “peculiar institution.” Nor is it enough to be silent. The + masters are not pleased, unless they obtain a greater degree of + subservience than that; and they are generally accommodated. Do they + respect the northerner for this? I trow not. Even the slaves despise “a + northern man with southern principles;” and that is the class they + generally see. When northerners go to the south to reside, they prove very + apt scholars. They soon imbibe the sentiments and disposition of their + neighbors, and generally go beyond their teachers. Of the two, they are + proverbially the hardest masters. + </p> + <p> + They seem to satisfy their consciences with the doctrine that God created + the Africans to be slaves. What a libel upon the heavenly Father, who + “made of one blood all nations of men!” And then who <i>are</i> Africans? + Who can measure the amount of Anglo-Saxon blood coursing in the veins of + American slaves? + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of the pains slaveholders take to give their slaves a bad + opinion of the north; but, notwithstanding this, intelligent slaves are + aware that they have many friends in the Free States. Even the most + ignorant have some confused notions about it. They knew that I could read; + and I was often asked if I had seen any thing in the newspapers about + white folks over in the big north, who were trying to get their freedom + for them. Some believe that the abolitionists have already made them free, + and that it is established by law, but that their masters prevent the law + from going into effect. One woman begged me to get a newspaper and read it + over. She said her husband told her that the black people had sent word to + the queen of ’Merica that they were all slaves; that she didn’t believe + it, and went to Washington city to see the president about it. They + quarrelled; she drew her sword upon him, and swore that he should help her + to make them all free. + </p> + <p> + That poor, ignorant woman thought that America was governed by a Queen, to + whom the President was subordinate. I wish the President was subordinate + to Queen Justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + IX. Sketches Of Neighboring Slaveholders. + </h2> + <p> + There was a planter in the country, not far from us, whom I will call Mr. + Litch. He was an ill-bred, uneducated man, but very wealthy. He had six + hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive + plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail and a + whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were perpetrated + there, they passed without comment. He was so effectually screened by his + great wealth that he was called to no account for his crimes, not even for + murder. + </p> + <p> + Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to tie a rope + round a man’s body, and suspend him from the ground. A fire was kindled + over him, from which was suspended a piece of fat pork. As this cooked, + the scalding drops of fat continually fell on the bare flesh. On his own + plantation, he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. + But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit + managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of + theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who + assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and had no + inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor’s back turned, than the + accused was sought out, and whipped for his lack of discretion. If a slave + stole from him even a pound of meat or a peck of corn, if detection + followed, he was put in chains and imprisoned, and so kept till his form + was attenuated by hunger and suffering. + </p> + <p> + A freshet once bore his wine cellar and meat house miles away from the + plantation. Some slaves followed, and secured bits of meat and bottles of + wine. Two were detected; a ham and some liquor being found in their huts. + They were summoned by their master. No words were used, but a club felled + them to the ground. A rough box was their coffin, and their interment was + a dog’s burial. Nothing was said. + </p> + <p> + Murder was so common on his plantation that he feared to be alone after + nightfall. He might have believed in ghosts. + </p> + <p> + His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty. His + bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a terror to the + slaves. They were let loose on a runway, and, if they tracked him, they + literally tore the flesh from his bones. When this slaveholder died, his + shrieks and groans were so frightful that they appalled his own friends. + His last words were, “I am going to hell; bury my money with me.” + </p> + <p> + After death his eyes remained open. To press the lids down, silver dollars + were laid on them. These were buried with him. From this circumstance, a + rumor went abroad that his coffin was filled with money. Three times his + grave was opened, and his coffin taken out. The last time, his body was + found on the ground, and a flock of buzzards were pecking at it. He was + again interred, and a sentinel set over his grave. The perpetrators were + never discovered. + </p> + <p> + Cruelty is contagious in uncivilized communities. Mr. Conant, a neighbor + of Mr. Litch, returned from town one evening in a partial state of + intoxication. His body servant gave him some offence. He was divested of + his clothes, except his shirt, whipped, and tied to a large tree in front + of the house. It was a stormy night in winter. The wind blew bitterly + cold, and the boughs of the old tree crackled under falling sleet. A + member of the family, fearing he would freeze to death, begged that he + might be taken down; but the master would not relent. He remained there + three hours; and, when he was cut down, he was more dead than alive. + Another slave, who stole a pig from this master, to appease his hunger, + was terribly flogged. In desperation, he tried to run away. But at the end + of two miles, he was so faint with loss of blood, he thought he was dying. + He had a wife, and he longed to see her once more. Too sick to walk, he + crept back that long distance on his hands and knees. When he reached his + master’s, it was night. He had not strength to rise and open the gate. He + moaned, and tried to call for help. I had a friend living in the same + family. At last his cry reached her. She went out and found the prostrate + man at the gate. She ran back to the house for assistance, and two men + returned with her. They carried him in, and laid him on the floor. The + back of his shirt was one clot of blood. By means of lard, my friend + loosened it from the raw flesh. She bandaged him, gave him cool drink, and + left him to rest. The master said he deserved a hundred more lashes. When + his own labor was stolen from him, he had stolen food to appease his + hunger. This was his crime. + </p> + <p> + Another neighbor was a Mrs. Wade. At no hour of the day was there + cessation of the lash on her premises. Her labors began with the dawn, and + did not cease till long after nightfall. The barn was her particular place + of torture. There she lashed the slaves with the might of a man. An old + slave of hers once said to me, “It is hell in missis’s house. ’Pears I can + never get out. Day and night I prays to die.” + </p> + <p> + The mistress died before the old woman, and, when dying, entreated her + husband not to permit any one of her slaves to look on her after death. A + slave who had nursed her children, and had still a child in her care, + watched her chance, and stole with it in her arms to the room where lay + her dead mistress. She gazed a while on her, then raised her hand and + dealt two blows on her face, saying, as she did so, “The devil is got you + <i>now</i>!” She forgot that the child was looking on. She had just begun + to talk; and she said to her father, “I did see ma, and mammy did strike + ma, so,” striking her own face with her little hand. The master was + startled. He could not imagine how the nurse could obtain access to the + room where the corpse lay; for he kept the door locked. He questioned her. + She confessed that what the child had said was true, and told how she had + procured the key. She was sold to Georgia. + </p> + <p> + In my childhood I knew a valuable slave, named Charity, and loved her, as + all children did. Her young mistress married, and took her to Louisiana. + Her little boy, James, was sold to a good sort of master. He became + involved in debt, and James was sold again to a wealthy slaveholder, noted + for his cruelty. With this man he grew up to manhood, receiving the + treatment of a dog. After a severe whipping, to save himself from further + infliction of the lash, with which he was threatened, he took to the + woods. He was in a most miserable condition—cut by the cowskin, half + naked, half starved, and without the means of procuring a crust of bread. + </p> + <p> + Some weeks after his escape, he was captured, tied, and carried back to + his master’s plantation. This man considered punishment in his jail, on + bread and water, after receiving hundreds of lashes, too mild for the poor + slave’s offence. Therefore he decided, after the overseer should have + whipped him to his satisfaction, to have him placed between the screws of + the cotton gin, to stay as long as he had been in the woods. This wretched + creature was cut with the whip from his head to his feet, then washed with + strong brine, to prevent the flesh from mortifying, and make it heal + sooner than it otherwise would. He was then put into the cotton gin, which + was screwed down, only allowing him room to turn on his side when he could + not lie on his back. Every morning a slave was sent with a piece of bread + and bowl of water, which was placed within reach of the poor fellow. The + slave was charged, under penalty of severe punishment, not to speak to + him. + </p> + <p> + Four days passed, and the slave continued to carry the bread and water. On + the second morning, he found the bread gone, but the water untouched. When + he had been in the press four days and five night, the slave informed his + master that the water had not been used for four mornings, and that + horrible stench came from the gin house. The overseer was sent to examine + into it. When the press was unscrewed, the dead body was found partly + eaten by rats and vermin. Perhaps the rats that devoured his bread had + gnawed him before life was extinct. Poor Charity! Grandmother and I often + asked each other how her affectionate heart would bear the news, if she + should ever hear of the murder of her son. We had known her husband, and + knew that James was like him in manliness and intelligence. These were the + qualities that made it so hard for him to be a plantation slave. They put + him into a rough box, and buried him with less feeling than would have + been manifested for an old house dog. Nobody asked any questions. He was a + slave; and the feeling was that the master had a right to do what he + pleased with his own property. And what did <i>he</i> care for the value + of a slave? He had hundreds of them. When they had finished their daily + toil, they must hurry to eat their little morsels, and be ready to + extinguish their pine knots before nine o’clock, when the overseer went + his patrol rounds. He entered every cabin, to see that men and their wives + had gone to bed together, lest the men, from over-fatigue, should fall + asleep in the chimney corner, and remain there till the morning horn + called them to their daily task. Women are considered of no value, unless + they continually increase their owner’s stock. They are put on a par with + animals. This same master shot a woman through the head, who had run away + and been brought back to him. No one called him to account for it. If a + slave resisted being whipped, the bloodhounds were unpacked, and set upon + him, to tear his flesh from his bones. The master who did these things was + highly educated, and styled a perfect gentleman. He also boasted the name + and standing of a Christian, though Satan never had a truer follower. + </p> + <p> + I could tell of more slaveholders as cruel as those I have described. They + are not exceptions to the general rule. I do not say there are no humane + slaveholders. Such characters do exist, notwithstanding the hardening + influences around them. But they are “like angels’ visits—few and + far between.” + </p> + <p> + I knew a young lady who was one of these rare specimens. She was an + orphan, and inherited as slaves a woman and her six children. Their father + was a free man. They had a comfortable home of their own, parents and + children living together. The mother and eldest daughter served their + mistress during the day, and at night returned to their dwelling, which + was on the premises. The young lady was very pious, and there was some + reality in her religion. She taught her slaves to lead pure lives, and + wished them to enjoy the fruit of their own industry. <i>Her</i> religion + was not a garb put on for Sunday, and laid aside till Sunday returned + again. The eldest daughter of the slave mother was promised in marriage to + a free man; and the day before the wedding this good mistress emancipated + her, in order that her marriage might have the sanction of <i>law</i>. + </p> + <p> + Report said that this young lady cherished an unrequited affection for a + man who had resolved to marry for wealth. In the course of time a rich + uncle of hers died. He left six thousand dollars to his two sons by a + colored woman, and the remainder of his property to this orphan niece. The + metal soon attracted the magnet. The lady and her weighty purse became + his. She offered to manumit her slaves—telling them that her + marriage might make unexpected changes in their destiny, and she wished to + insure their happiness. They refused to take their freedom, saying that + she had always been their best friend, and they could not be so happy any + where as with her. I was not surprised. I had often seen them in their + comfortable home, and thought that the whole town did not contain a + happier family. They had never felt slavery; and, when it was too late, + they were convinced of its reality. + </p> + <p> + When the new master claimed this family as his property, the father became + furious, and went to his mistress for protection. “I can do nothing for + you now, Harry,” said she. “I no longer have the power I had a week ago. I + have succeeded in obtaining the freedom of your wife; but I cannot obtain + it for your children.” The unhappy father swore that nobody should take + his children from him. He concealed them in the woods for some days; but + they were discovered and taken. The father was put in jail, and the two + oldest boys sold to Georgia. One little girl, too young to be of service + to her master, was left with the wretched mother. The other three were + carried to their master’s plantation. The eldest soon became a mother; and + when the slaveholder’s wife looked at the babe, she wept bitterly. She + knew that her own husband had violated the purity she had so carefully + inculcated. She had a second child by her master, and then he sold her and + his offspring to his brother. She bore two children to the brother and was + sold again. The next sister went crazy. The life she was compelled to lead + drove her mad. The third one became the mother of five daughters. Before + the birth of the fourth the pious mistress died. To the last, she rendered + every kindness to the slaves that her unfortunate circumstances permitted. + She passed away peacefully, glad to close her eyes on a life which had + been made so wretched by the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + This man squandered the fortune he had received, and sought to retrieve + his affairs by a second marriage; but, having retired after a night of + drunken debauch, he was found dead in the morning. He was called a good + master; for he fed and clothed his slaves better than most masters, and + the lash was not heard on his plantation so frequently as on many others. + Had it not been for slavery, he would have been a better man, and his wife + a happier woman. + </p> + <p> + No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption + produced by slavery. The slave girl is reared in an atmosphere of + licentiousness and fear. The lash and the foul talk of her master and his + sons are her teachers. When she is fourteen or fifteen, her owner, or his + sons, or the overseer, or perhaps all of them, begin to bribe her with + presents. If these fail to accomplish their purpose, she is whipped or + starved into submission to their will. She may have had religious + principles inculcated by some pious mother or grandmother, or some good + mistress; she may have a lover, whose good opinion and peace of mind are + dear to her heart; or the profligate men who have power over her may be + exceedingly odious to her. But resistance is hopeless. + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + The poor worm<br /> + Shall prove her contest vain. Life’s little day<br /> + Shall pass, and she is gone! +</div> + <p> + The slaveholder’s sons are, of course, vitiated, even while boys, by the + unclean influences every where around them. Nor do the master’s daughters + always escape. Severe retributions sometimes come upon him for the wrongs + he does to the daughters of the slaves. The white daughters early hear + their parents quarrelling about some female slave. Their curiosity is + excited, and they soon learn the cause. They are attended by the young + slave girls whom their father has corrupted; and they hear such talk as + should never meet youthful ears, or any other ears. They know that the + woman slaves are subject to their father’s authority in all things; and in + some cases they exercise the same authority over the men slaves. I have + myself seen the master of such a household whose head was bowed down in + shame; for it was known in the neighborhood that his daughter had selected + one of the meanest slaves on his plantation to be the father of his first + grandchild. She did not make her advances to her equals, nor even to her + father’s more intelligent servants. She selected the most brutalized, over + whom her authority could be exercised with less fear of exposure. Her + father, half frantic with rage, sought to revenge himself on the offending + black man; but his daughter, foreseeing the storm that would arise, had + given him free papers, and sent him out of the state. + </p> + <p> + In such cases the infant is smothered, or sent where it is never seen by + any who know its history. But if the white parent is the <i>father</i>, + instead of the mother, the offspring are unblushingly reared for the + market. If they are girls, I have indicated plainly enough what will be + their inevitable destiny. + </p> + <p> + You may believe what I say; for I write only that whereof I know. I was + twenty-one years in that cage of obscene birds. I can testify, from my own + experience and observation, that slavery is a curse to the whites as well + as to the blacks. It makes white fathers cruel and sensual; the sons + violent and licentious; it contaminates the daughters, and makes the wives + wretched. And as for the colored race, it needs an abler pen than mine to + describe the extremity of their sufferings, the depth of their + degradation. + </p> + <p> + Yet few slaveholders seem to be aware of the widespread moral ruin + occasioned by this wicked system. Their talk is of blighted cotton crops—not + of the blight on their children’s souls. + </p> + <p> + If you want to be fully convinced of the abominations of slavery, go on a + southern plantation, and call yourself a negro trader. Then there will be + no concealment; and you will see and hear things that will seem to you + impossible among human beings with immortal souls. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + X. A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to + have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the + blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for + me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I + was constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a + home of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my + dreaded fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already + had high words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly + what she thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in + the neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of + Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to + build a house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and + expense, I was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; + but I soon heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my + Maker that I would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation + from dawn till dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from + day to day, through such a living death. I was determined that the master, + whom I so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, + and made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, + succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any + thing, every thing, for the sake of defeating him. What <i>could</i> I do? + I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the + abyss. + </p> + <p> + And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would + gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. + It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth, + and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to + screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not + so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master + had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy + the pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of + my childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that + they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing, + concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it + with deliberate calculation. + </p> + <p> + But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, + who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes + are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too + severely! If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the + man of my choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I + should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about + to relate; but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to + keep myself pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard + to preserve my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful + grasp of the demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I + felt as if I was forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be + frustrated; and I became reckless in my despair. + </p> + <p> + I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy had + given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others, it chanced + that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the + circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often + spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked + questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great + deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities + to see me, and wrote to me frequently. I was a poor slave girl, only + fifteen years old. + </p> + <p> + So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for + human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, + and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have + such a friend. By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He + was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor + slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whither all this was + tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of + interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is + agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation + has left her any pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give one’s + self, than to submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in + having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by + kindness and attachment. A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, + and you dare not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an + unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be + sophistry in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all + principles of morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them + impossible. + </p> + <p> + When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely + cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described. Revenge, and + calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere + gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as + to know that I favored another, and it was something to triumph over my + tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by + selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a + man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my + freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came + so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of + children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a + new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them; + especially if they had children. I had seen several women sold, with + babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain + long in sight of himself and his wife. Of a man who was not my master I + could ask to have my children well supported; and in this case, I felt + confident I should obtain the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would + be made free. With all these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no + other way of escaping the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong + plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it + is to be a slave; to be entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the + laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the + will of another. You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the + snares, and eluding the power of a hated tyrant; you never shuddered at + the sound of his footsteps, and trembled within hearing of his voice. I + know I did wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful + and humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking + back, calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave woman ought + not to be judged by the same standard as others. + </p> + <p> + The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over + the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me + from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that + it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most + of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of + her love; but I could not utter the dreaded words. + </p> + <p> + As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the + thought of telling <i>him</i>. From time to time he told me of his + intended arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the + cottage was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would + never enter it. He said, “I have heard enough of such talk as that. You + shall go, if you are carried by force; and you shall remain there.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.” + </p> + <p> + He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a + word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the + truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble + as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how + could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved + that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, “Let the storm + beat! I will brave it till I die.” And now, how humiliated I felt! + </p> + <p> + I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words + stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and + began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. + The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for + her children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily + expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a + sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this + well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. + Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me + concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been + previously awakened, believed what she said. She exclaimed, “O Linda! Has + it come to this? I had rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. + You are a disgrace to your dead mother.” She tore from my fingers my + mother’s wedding ring and her silver thimble. “Go away!” she exclaimed, + “and never come to my house, again.” Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, + that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes + never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from my seat, but fell + back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me; but the tears were running + down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me like fire. She had always + been so kind to me! <i>So</i> kind! How I longed to throw myself at her + feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had ordered me to go, and never + to come there again. After a few minutes, I mustered strength, and started + to obey her. With what feelings did I now close that little gate, which I + used to open with such an eager hand in my childhood! It closed upon me + with a sound I never heard before. + </p> + <p> + Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master’s. I walked on + recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I + had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on + the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above + me. How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed + by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over + me. I sank on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to + die; but the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused + myself, and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had + been a friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke + soothingly to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my + shame if I could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my + heart to her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and + all I had been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. + My friend advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing + suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came + at last. I knelt before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my + life; how long I had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in + an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I + told her I would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes + of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead + mother’s sake. And she did pity me. She did not say, “I forgive you;” but + she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old + hand gently on my head, and murmured, “Poor child! Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XI. The New Tie To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with Mr. + Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe lamb,—whether + there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about character,—he + made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to + care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made + the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how + I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He + intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could + have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he + have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the + cause of my sin! + </p> + <p> + “Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for + you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the + fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, + you shall feel the fires of hell.” + </p> + <p> + I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was + gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his + abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had + always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for <i>him</i> I + might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. “I + have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against you.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, with + ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could grind + your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless + rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who + don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. + You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master + was your best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have + punished you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under + the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. + Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your + conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here + for the present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. + After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and + who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; + that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have + explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most + shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. “I + command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your child is + white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I + did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he + would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a hissing tone. + </p> + <p> + “I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what + arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he + spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; but + your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good + intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from killing + you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. + </p> + <p> + But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. + You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of + your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from + him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this + at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act + of mercy I shall show towards you.” + </p> + <p> + I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man + who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to + my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last + time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward course. + Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. + I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.” + </p> + <p> + Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had + calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew + the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. + </p> + <p> + About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The + day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. + My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray + it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My + heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives + that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us + know what a year may bring forth. + </p> + <p> + I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, + though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last + consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had + done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! + The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps your mother + and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart + could now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives + ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate + of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had + experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I + should escape? + </p> + <p> + My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in + mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was + unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I + would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, + they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered + the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He + had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four + pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive + till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, + unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to + leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was + scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was + sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued + his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that + my child was an addition to his stock of slaves. + </p> + <p> + I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in + silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not + remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office; and he was made the + medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and + of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, + cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my + brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not + seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I + dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but + I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William + with a note. The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; + and he said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I + told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his + master’s will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He + demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He + flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon + his usual themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his + forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I + felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such + language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless + to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. + The manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do + nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so + early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity + to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a + trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly + incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there, to + reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence + of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his + office work; but every thing went wrong without William. He was released, + and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not + careful about his future behavior. + </p> + <p> + As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year + old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my + existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and + pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I + loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over + my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished + that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. + The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold + that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, + but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was + heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her + dying child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought + that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated + him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that + he should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had + bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a + new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the + serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XII. Fear Of Insurrection. + </h2> + <p> + Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the news + threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, + when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was. + </p> + <p> + It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion + every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called + country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their + places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without + hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were + told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. + Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed + of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. + Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. + All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. + </p> + <p> + By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles + of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it + would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing + annoyed them so much as to see colored people living in comfort and + respectability; so I made arrangements for them with especial care. I + arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as neatly as possible. I + put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with + flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at the window to watch. Far as + my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and + fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies + of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild + scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found. + </p> + <p> + It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their + own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief + authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting + that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves + in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed + such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on + innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the + slightest ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in + remote parts of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the + searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent + other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were + plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped + till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred + lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking + paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored + people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white + person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else + the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling + wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the + helpless. At night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went + wherever they chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal + will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their + way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were + tied up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies + about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had + the slightest tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking + together. + </p> + <p> + I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in + the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive + the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp + of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in + they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing + within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a + thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver + change was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from + them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, “What d’ye foller us + fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come to steal?” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I + will take it, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I + called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till + the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house + brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the + outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This + officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the + account of neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He + felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, + if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant + followers, who were unable to read. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that + was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, + “Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector said, + “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from <i>your</i> houses.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you seem + to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White folks + oughter have ’em all.” + </p> + <p> + His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got + ’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!” + </p> + <p> + There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, + proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my + things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their + contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. + I told him it was one of my friends. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I + told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. + “Bring me all your letters!” said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had + none. “Don’t be afraid,” he continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them + all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey + him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? + half free niggers?” inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are + from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and + some I destroy without reading.” + </p> + <p> + An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our + conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet + had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving + fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; + consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained + these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was + helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, + “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when + dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take + the jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats.” + </p> + <p> + “And what <i>were</i> we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. + I evaded the question. + </p> + <p> + The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. + They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, + with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a + short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of + the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the + house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its + inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very + fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing apparel. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by + drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually + rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window + curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white + man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not + stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored + minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his + wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to + shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized + country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the + administrators of justice! + </p> + <p> + The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the + innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by + keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white + citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless + rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, + drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. + </p> + <p> + The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people + that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed + with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw + horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled + by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail + yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with + brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not + fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the + conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even + heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a + story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people. + </p> + <p> + The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was + substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or + free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture + of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their + masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. + Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the + privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their + burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had + no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour + out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the + church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a + certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, + when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction + had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored + friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in + commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, + and all ye are brethren.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XIII. The Church And Slavery. + </h2> + <p> + After the alarm caused by Nat Turner’s insurrection had subsided, the + slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the + slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their + masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on + Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also + very respectable—a fact which I presume had some weight with him. + The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The + Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon; but their + carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal church. + It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free + colored man, who was a member. + </p> + <p> + I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, + trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by + daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to + encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his + office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. + When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The + reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all + present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the + portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. + </p> + <p> + His text was, “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters + according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your + heart, as unto Christ.” + </p> + <p> + Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in deep, + solemn tones, began: “Hearken, ye servants! Give strict heed unto my + words. You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner + of evil. ’Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and will + surely punish you, if you don’t forsake your wicked ways. You that live in + town are eyeservants behind your master’s back. Instead of serving your + masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly + Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. + God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden + away somewhere, feasting on your master’s substance; tossing + coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller, or cutting cards with + another old hag. Your masters may not find you out, but God sees you, and + will punish you. O, the depravity of your hearts! When your master’s work + is done, are you quietly together, thinking of the goodness of God to such + sinful creatures? No; you are quarrelling, and tying up little bags of + roots to bury under the doorsteps to poison each other with. God sees you. + You men steal away to every grog shop to sell your master’s corn, that you + may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or + among the bushes, to pitch coppers. Although your masters may not find you + out, God sees you; and he will punish you. You must forsake your sinful + ways, and be faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master—your + old mistress and your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, + you offend your heavenly Master. You must obey God’s commandments. When + you go from here, don’t stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go + directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have come.” + </p> + <p> + The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at brother + Pike’s gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the + next Sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last + discourse. At the close of the meeting, Mr. Pike informed us that he found + it very inconvenient to meet at the friend’s house, and he should be glad + to see us, every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I went home with the feeling that I had heard the Reverend Mr. Pike for + the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that + the kitchen sported two tallow candles; the first time, I am sure, since + its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had any thing but + pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from + his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, and went to enjoy a Methodist + shout. They never seem so happy as when shouting and singing at religious + meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than + sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded + Samaritans, and pass by on the other side. + </p> + <p> + The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns; and they do not + trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following + verses: + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Old Satan is one busy ole man;<br /> + He rolls dem blocks all in my way;<br /> + But Jesus is my bosom friend;<br /> + He rolls dem blocks away.<br /><br /> + + If I had died when I was young,<br /> + Den how my stam’ring tongue would have sung;<br /> + But I am ole, and now I stand<br /> + A narrow chance for to tread dat heavenly land. +</div> + <p> + I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I + went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next a poor, bereaved + mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the + town constable—a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his + brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping post, in jail or + out of jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office any where for + fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and + said to the stricken woman, “Sister, can’t you tell us how the Lord deals + with your soul? Do you love him as you did formerly?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet, and said, in piteous tones, “My Lord and Master, + help me! My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and + I am left in darkness and misery.” Then, striking her breast, she + continued, “I can’t tell you what is in here! They’ve got all my children. + Last week they took the last one. God only knows where they’ve sold her. + They let me have her sixteen years, and then—O! O! Pray for her + brothers and sisters! I’ve got nothing to live for now. God make my time + short!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable class leader + become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his + handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman’s calamity + might not see his merriment. Then, with assumed gravity, he said to the + bereaved mother, “Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his + divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor needy soul!” + </p> + <p> + The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as + the birds that warbled round us,— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Ole Satan thought he had a mighty aim;<br /> + He missed my soul, and caught my sins.<br /> + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!<br /><br /> + + He took my sins upon his back;<br /> + Went muttering and grumbling down to hell.<br /> + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God!<br /><br /> + + Ole Satan’s church is here below.<br /> + Up to God’s free church I hope to go.<br /> + Cry Amen, cry Amen, cry Amen to God! +</div> + <p> + Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at + such times, you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing + and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, + under constant dread of the lash? + </p> + <p> + The Episcopal clergyman, who, ever since my earliest recollection, had + been a sort of god among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was + large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different + clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored + people, who said, “God has sent us a good man this time.” They loved him, + and their children followed him for a smile or a kind word. Even the + slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. + His wife taught them to read and write, and to be useful to her and + themselves. As soon as he was settled, he turned his attention to the + needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty of having + a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with a sermon adapted to their + comprehension. After much argument and importunity, it was finally agreed + that they might occupy the gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many + colored people, hitherto unaccustomed to attend church, now gladly went to + hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood + them. Moreover, it was the first time they had ever been addressed as + human beings. It was not long before his white parishioners began to be + dissatisfied. He was accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes + than he did to them. He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains + upon those sermons than upon any others; for the slaves were reared in + such ignorance that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their + comprehension. Dissensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should + preach to them in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the + midst of these disputings his wife died, after a very short illness. Her + slaves gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, “I have + tried to do you good and promote your happiness; and if I have failed, it + has not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me; but + prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. May + we meet in a better world.” Her liberated slaves were sent away, with + funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless + the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death her husband + preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at his departure. + </p> + <p> + Several years after, he passed through our town and preached to his former + congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. “My + friends,” said he, “it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity + of speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do + something for the colored people of my own parish; but nothing is yet + accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live + according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine; + but God judges men by their hearts, not by the color of their skins.” This + was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to + slaveholders. They said he and his wife had made fools of their slaves, + and that he preached like a fool to the negroes. + </p> + <p> + I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were + beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist + church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he + should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He + came to me, and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for + he had no money; but he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it + came. I asked him if he didn’t know it was contrary to law; and that + slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This + brought the tears into his eyes. “Don’t be troubled, uncle Fred,” said I. + “I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law, + that you might know the danger, and be on your guard.” He thought he could + plan to come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a + quiet nook, where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught + him his A, B, C. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As + soon as he could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in + the Bible. The happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my + heart. After spelling out a few words, he paused, and said, “Honey, it + ’pears when I can read dis good book I shall be nearer to God. White man + is got all de sense. He can larn easy. It ain’t easy for ole black man + like me. I only wants to read dis book, dat I may know how to live; den I + hab no fear ’bout dying.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. + “Hab patience, child,” he replied. “I larns slow.” + </p> + <p> + I had no need of patience. His gratitude, and the happiness imparted, were + more than a recompense for all my trouble. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could + find any text in it. One day, when he had recited unusually well, I said, + “Uncle Fred, how do you manage to get your lessons so well?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bress you, chile,” he replied. “You nebber gibs me a lesson dat I + don’t pray to God to help me to understan’ what I spells and what I reads. + And he <i>does</i> help me, chile. Bress his holy name!” + </p> + <p> + There are thousands, who, like good uncle Fred, are thirsting for the + water of life; but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They + send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am + glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth; but I ask + them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American + slaveholders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell <i>them</i> it was + wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own + children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that all + men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light of + knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for + sealing up the Fountain of Life from souls that are thirsting for it. + </p> + <p> + There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this; + but, alas! their number is small. They are hated by the south, and would + be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die, as others have been + before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. + Perhaps the great grandchildren of uncle Fred may have freely imparted to + them the divine treasures, which he sought by stealth, at the risk of the + prison and the scourge. + </p> + <p> + Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are + the one, and some the other; but I think if they felt the interest in the + poor and the lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so <i>easily</i> + blinded. A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has + usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The + slaveholder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes + himself as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred + topics. The reverend gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table + loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises, and sees + the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of + favored household slaves. The southerner invites him to talk with those + slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, “O, no, + massa.” This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a + “South Side View of Slavery,” and to complain of the exaggerations of + abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the south, and seen + slavery for himself; that it is a beautiful “patriarchal institution;” + that the slaves don’t want their freedom; that they have hallelujah + meetings and other religious privileges. + </p> + <p> + What does <i>he</i> know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn + till dark on the plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, + torn from their arms by slave-traders? of young girls dragged down into + moral filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained + to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The + slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell + of them if he had asked them. + </p> + <p> + There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the + south. If a man goes to the communion table, and pays money into the + treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is + called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the + church dismiss him, if she is a white woman; but if she is colored, it + does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal church, I was much + surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the + character of men; but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after + he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had + been confirmed, certainly gave <i>me</i> no indication that he had + “renounced the devil and all his works.” In answer to some of his usual + talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. “Yes, Linda,” + said he. “It was proper for me to do so. I am getting in years, and my + position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned + slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda.” + </p> + <p> + “There are sinners enough in it already,” rejoined I. “If I could be + allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do what I require; and if you are faithful to me, you will be as + virtuous as my wife,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + I answered that the Bible didn’t say so. + </p> + <p> + His voice became hoarse with rage. “How dare you preach to me about your + infernal Bible!” he exclaimed. “What right have you, who are my negro, to + talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn’t like? I am your + master, and you shall obey me.” + </p> + <p> + No wonder the slaves sing,— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Ole Satan’s church is here below;<br /> + Up to God’s free church I hope to go. +</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XIV. Another Link To Life. + </h2> + <p> + I had not returned to my master’s house since the birth of my child. The + old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power; but his + wife vowed, by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came + back; and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a + season. Then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about + his forbearance and my ingratitude. He labored, most unnecessarily, to + convince me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no + need of descanting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious + babe was the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent + contempt when he talked about my having forfeited <i>his</i> good opinion; + but I shed bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by + the good and pure. Alas! slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. + There was no chance for me to be respectable. There was no prospect of + being able to lead a better life. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when my master found that I still refused to accept what he + called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. “Perhaps that + will humble you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Humble <i>me</i>! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated + my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfil it; for slaveholders + have been cunning enough to enact that “the child shall follow the + condition of the <i>mother</i>,” not of the <i>father</i>, thus taking + care that licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection + made me clasp my innocent babe all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid + visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall + into the slave-trader’s hands. I wept over him, and said, “O my child! + perhaps they will leave you in some cold cabin to die, and then throw you + into a hole, as if you were a dog.” + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated + beyond measure. He rushed from the house, and returned with a pair of + shears. I had a fine head of hair; and he often railed about my pride of + arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and + swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. + Some months before, he had pitched me down stairs in a fit of passion; and + the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in + bed for many days. He then said, “Linda, I swear by God I will never raise + my hand against you again;” but I knew that he would forget his promise. + </p> + <p> + After he discovered my situation, he was like a restless spirit from the + pit. He came every day; and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can + describe. I would not describe them if I could; they were too low, too + revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother’s knowledge as much as + I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life, without having my + troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence, and + heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man’s tongue, she could + not always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should + try to defend me; but it only made matters worse. + </p> + <p> + When they told me my new-born babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than + it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men; but it is far more + terrible for women. Superadded to the burden common to all, <i>they</i> + have wrongs, and sufferings, and mortifications peculiarly their own. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer, to my last day, for this + new crime against <i>him</i>, as he called it; and as long as he had me in + his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe, + he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to + him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare + some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took + up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. “Now stand there,” said + he, “till I tell you to go back!” My child bore a strong resemblance to + her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. He noticed + this; and while I stood before him, trembling with weakness, he heaped + upon me and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the + grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his + vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He + took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my + face, took me up, and shook me violently, to restore my consciousness + before any one entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he + hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment; but + I begged my friends to let me die, rather than send for the doctor. There + was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared; and I + was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to + life, I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived + only nineteen years. + </p> + <p> + Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. + Their father offered his; but, if I had wished to accept the offer, I + dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted + at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to; and we + resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away + from us. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother belonged to the church; and she was very desirous of having + the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not + venture to attempt it. But chance favored me. He was called to visit a + patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. “Now is + the time,” said my grandmother; “we will take the children to church, and + have them christened.” + </p> + <p> + When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I + felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism, without + any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal + rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to + <i>her</i>, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive, + to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren were + presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother’s? + <i>Her</i> master had died when she was a child; and she remained with her + mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master; and + thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall upon slaves. + </p> + <p> + When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father + stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her Christian name. To this I + added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it; for + my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled + skeins are the genealogies of slavery! I loved my father; but it mortified + me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. + </p> + <p> + When we left the church, my father’s old mistress invited me to go home + with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby’s neck. I thanked her for + this kindness; but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be + fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly + I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery’s chain, whose + iron entereth into the soul! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XV. Continued Persecutions. + </h2> + <p> + My children grew finely; and Dr. Flint would often say to me, with an + exulting smile. “These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of + these days.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself that, God being my helper, they should never pass into + his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them + given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children + could be obtained; but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. + Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my + friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slaveholder about to + leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with + nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. + “Sir,” said he, “she don’t belong to me. She is my daughter’s property, + and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her + paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money; + neither can he buy her children.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he + entered. I never had seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He + seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had + learned to be afraid of him. The little one would shut her eyes and hide + her face on my shoulder whenever she saw him; and Benny, who was now + nearly five years old, often inquired, “What makes that bad man come here + so many times? Does he want to hurt us?” I would clasp the dear boy in my + arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the + problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child + left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke. + “So you are left in disgust, are you?” said he. “It is no more than I + expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so. + So he is tired of you? Ha! ha! ha! The virtuous madam don’t like to hear + about it, does she? Ha! ha! ha!” There was a sting in his calling me + virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had + formerly done. He continued: “So it seems you are trying to get up another + intrigue. Your new paramour came to me, and offered to buy you; but you + may be assured you will not succeed. You are mine; and you shall be mine + for life. There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I + would have done it; but you rejected my kind offer.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue; that I had never seen + the man who offered to buy me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me I lie?” exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. “Will you + say again that you never saw that man?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I do say so.” + </p> + <p> + He clinched my arm with a volley of oaths. Ben began to scream, and I told + him to go to his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you stir a step, you little wretch!” said he. The child drew nearer + to me, and put his arms round me, as if he wanted to protect me. This was + too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the + room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” exclaimed the doctor. “Let him lie there till he comes to.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go! Let me go!” I screamed, “or I will raise the whole house.” I + struggled and got away; but he clinched me again. Somebody opened the + door, and he released me. I picked up my insensible child, and when I + turned my tormentor was gone. Anxiously, I bent over the little form, so + pale and still; and when the brown eyes at last opened, I don’t know + whether I was very happy. All the doctor’s former persecutions were + renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a + rival more closely than he watched me and the unknown slaveholder, with + whom he accused me of wishing to get up an intrigue. When my grandmother + was out of the way he searched every room to find him. + </p> + <p> + In one of his visits, he happened to find a young girl, whom he had sold + to a trader a few days previous. His statement was, that he sold her + because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter + life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother, and no near + ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. A few friends + had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to + spend with them the time that intervened between her sale and the + gathering up of his human stock. Such a favor was rarely granted. It saved + the trader the expense of board and jail fees, and though the amount was + small, it was a weighty consideration in a slave-trader’s mind. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. + He ordered Rose out of the house; but he was no longer her master, and she + took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His + gray eyes flashed angrily upon her; but that was the extent of his power. + “How came this girl here?” he exclaimed. “What right had you to allow it, + when you knew I had sold her?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “This is my grandmother’s house, and Rose came to see her. I + have no right to turn any body out of doors, that comes here for honest + purposes.” + </p> + <p> + He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had still been + his slave. My grandmother’s attention had been attracted by loud voices, + and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt. She was not a woman to + let such an outrage, in her own house, go unrebuked. The doctor undertook + to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher + and higher, and finally boiled over in words. “Get out of my house!” she + exclaimed. “Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will + have enough to do, without watching my family.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of + sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by + compulsion of his wife; that he needn’t accuse her, for he was the one to + blame; he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and + more excited as she went on. “I tell you what, Dr. Flint,” said she, “you + ain’t got many more years to live, and you’d better be saying your + prayers. It will take ’em all, and more too, to wash the dirt off your + soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whom you are talking to?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She replied, “Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.” + </p> + <p> + He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes + met. Their angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and + weary—weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen + her love for me; but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, + always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace + and contentment in that humble home if it had not been for the demon + Slavery. + </p> + <p> + The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came; + and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive + also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was + dreaming of freedom again; more for my children’s sake than my own. I + planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of + overcoming them; and yet I hoped. + </p> + <p> + Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had + invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great + consternation, a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my + grandmother’s, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I + was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend’s house. + They sent me a dark wrapper, I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did + not save me; the doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but + I could not delay it; it came, warm and bright. At an early hour the + doctor came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did + not believe me, and sent to my friend’s house to ascertain the facts. He + came in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the + truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were + coming. “I suppose you need some recreation,” said he, “but I am surprised + at your being there, among those negroes. It was not the place for <i>you</i>. + Are you <i>allowed</i> to visit such people?” + </p> + <p> + I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend; + but I merely replied, “I went to visit my friends, and any company they + keep is good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to say, “I have seen very little of you of late, but my + interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on + you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself + and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to + what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no + communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a + cottage, where you and the children can live together. Your labor shall be + light, such as sewing for my family. Think what is offered you, Linda—a + home and freedom! Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you + at times, your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from + my own children, and I consider you as yet a child.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. “Why don’t you speak?” + said he. “What more do you wait for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you accept my offer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + His anger was ready to break loose; but he succeeded in curbing it, and + replied, “You have answered without thought. But I must let you know there + are two sides to my proposition; if you reject the bright side, you will + be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you + and your children shall be sent to your young master’s plantation, there + to remain till your young mistress is married; and your children shall + fare like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider + it.” + </p> + <p> + He was shrewd; but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready + to give my answer now. + </p> + <p> + “I will not receive it now,” he replied. “You act too much from impulse. + Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you + choose.” + </p> + <p> + On what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my + master’s offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be + impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he + gave me free papers, they would be so managed as to have no legal value. + The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But + then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect + was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him, and implore him to spare + me, for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, + and my weakness would be his triumph. + </p> + <p> + Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be + married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy + in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for + punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very + soon. My mind was made up; I was resolved that I would foil my master and + save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to + myself; I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I + would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. + </p> + <p> + On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise + choice. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to go to the plantation, sir,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?” said + he. + </p> + <p> + I told him I had. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Go to the plantation, and my curse go with you,” he replied. + “Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold; and your girl + shall be raised for the purpose of selling well. Go your own ways!” He + left the room with curses, not to be repeated. + </p> + <p> + As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, “Linda, + child, what did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was going to the plantation. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Must</i> you go?” said she. “Can’t something be done to stop it?” + </p> + <p> + I told her it was useless to try; but she begged me not to give up. She + said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how + faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own + baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been + out of the family so long they would not miss me; that she would pay them + for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more strength for + the situation than I had. I begged her not to go; but she persisted in + saying, “He will listen to <i>me</i>, Linda.” She went, and was treated as + I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied her request. + He told her that what he did was for my good, that my feelings were + entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I would receive + treatment that was suitable to my behavior. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes; but I must fight + my battle alone. I had a woman’s pride, and a mother’s love for my + children; and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter + dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side; I had + a determined will. There is might in each. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XVI. Scenes At The Plantation. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning I left my grandmother’s with my youngest child. My + boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old + wagon jolted on. Hitherto, I had suffered alone; now, my little one was to + be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the + time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what + purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far + as duty required; but within myself, I determined to make my stay as short + as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow + him up stairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left + below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had always been so + carefully tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the + yard. This was kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My + task was to fit up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst + of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as + busy planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed + to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to + a neighbor, “I’ve got her down here, and I’ll soon take the town notions + out of her head. My father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought + to have broke her in long ago.” The remark was made within my hearing, and + it would have been quite as manly to have made it to my face. He <i>had</i> + said things to my face which might, or might not, have surprised his + neighbor if he had known of them. He was “a chip of the old block.” + </p> + <p> + I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady, + so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness + before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it + would be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily + saw him beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed + by the lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much + more must I suffer, before I should be “broke in” to that degree? + </p> + <p> + I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an + opportunity to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections + that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my + lot. Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a + suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. + Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and + in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where + I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother’s heart bleed. I + was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked + out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in + search of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I + looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and + drew her out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for + her if she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled + to hear some one say, “Did you speak to me?” I looked up, and saw Mr. + Flint standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, + away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This + generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he + had killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed + that incident had prompted his unusual kindness. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put + Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to + have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required + attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware + that I had accomplished much work in a little time. + </p> + <p> + I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It + must be at night, after every body was in bed. I was six miles from town, + and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who, I knew, + often stole to town to see his mother. One night, when all was quiet, we + started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing + the journey. I arrived at my grandmother’s. Her bed room was on the first + floor, and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and + she awoke. She let me in and closed the window, lest some late passer-by + should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round + me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children, and + thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. + As I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back, and whispered, “Mother + is here.” After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and + he sat up in bed, looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that + it was I, he exclaimed, “O mother! you ain’t dad, are you? They didn’t cut + off your head at the plantation, did they?” + </p> + <p> + My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny + back in his bed, and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. + Rapidly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we + were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horse’s + hoofs before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large + tree. They passed, hallooing and shouting in a manner that indicated a + recent carousal. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with + them! We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation we + heard the sound of the hand-mill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We + were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to their labor. I + divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing that he had lost + the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day in the field. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house, to see that no one was + idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew + nothing about it; and rather than hire a superintendent he contented + himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the + necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs, + and make clothes for the slaves; but the old man knew him too well to + consent to that arrangement. + </p> + <p> + When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. + Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty + dollars for my grandmother, for the purpose of making her free, when she + stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we + all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such + occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups + and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot + muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother kept two + cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny’s delight. She invariably + declared that it was the best in town. The old ladies had cosey times + together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old + times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be + taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bade us good by, her bag was filled + with grandmother’s best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Dr. Flint’s wife came to take tea with us, and + when her children were also sent to have a feast of “Aunt Marthy’s” nice + cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was + angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She + would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother’s + feelings, for she could not retain ill will against the woman whom she had + nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor’s wife would gladly have + prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it, but + fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the Flints. She had + enough to be independent; and that is more than can ever be gained from + charity, however lavish it may be. + </p> + <p> + Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to + see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the + house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She staid a week, and I had + many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see + how I was treated, and whether any thing could be done for me. She + inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. + She condoled with me in her own peculiar way; saying she wished that I and + all my grandmother’s family were at rest in our graves, for not until then + should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I + was planning to bestow peace upon her, with regard to myself and my + children; not by death, but by securing our freedom. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles, to and from the + town; and all the way, I was meditating upon some means of escape for + myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity + could devise to effect our purchase, but all their plans had proved + abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious, and determined not to loosen his grasp + upon us. I could have made my escape alone; but it was more for my + helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the + boon would have been precious to me, above all price, I would not have + taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, + every sacrifice I made for their sakes, drew them closer to my heart, and + gave me fresh courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled + over me in a seemingly endless night of storms. + </p> + <p> + The six weeks were nearly completed, when Mr. Flint’s bride was expected + to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, + and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, + and return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various + orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It + was granted; for which favor I was thankful. It was the first I had ever + asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than one + night to accomplish the project I had in view; but the whole of Sunday + would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A + calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was a + day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever + spend under that dear, old sheltering roof! Perhaps these were the last + talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life! + Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together! Well, + better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom + that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from + it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my + poor parents, in the burying-ground of the slaves. “There the wicked cease + from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest + together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor; the servant is free + from his master.” I knelt by the graves of my parents, and thanked God, as + I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials, or + to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother’s blessing when she died; + and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, + sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded + heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone + from my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as + I remembered my mother. + </p> + <p> + The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke + the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My + spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years + I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as + now. A black stump, at the head of my mother’s grave, was all that + remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small + wooden board, bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly + obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to + God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about to take. As + I passed the wreck of the old meeting house, where, before Nat Turner’s + time, the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my + father’s voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached + freedom or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. My trust in God + had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. + </p> + <p> + My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a + few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get + discouraged, and, for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently + finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us; and I + knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children + comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was + packing my things, when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I + was doing. “I am putting my things in order,” I replied. I tried to look + and speak cheerfully; but her watchful eye detected something beneath the + surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down. She looked + earnestly at me, and said, “Linda, do you want to kill your old + grandmother? Do you mean to leave your little, helpless children? I am old + now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, that if I went away, perhaps their father would be able to + secure their freedom. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my child,” said she, “don’t trust too much to him. Stand by your own + children, and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who + forsakes her children; and if you leave them, you will never have a happy + moment. If you go, you will make me miserable the short time I have to + live. You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be + dreadful. Remember poor Benjamin. Do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a + little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect.” + </p> + <p> + My courage failed me, in view of the sorrow I should bring on that + faithful, loving old heart. I promised that I would try longer, and that I + would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Whenever the children climbed on my knee, or laid their heads on my lap, + she would say, “Poor little souls! what would you do without a mother? She + don’t love you as I do.” And she would hug them to her own bosom, as if to + reproach me for my want of affection; but she knew all the while that I + loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was + the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. + </p> + <p> + On Monday I returned to the plantation, and busied myself with + preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful + day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor + creatures were merry. They were expecting little presents from the bride, + and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no such hopes + for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their + authority and importance would be best established and maintained by + cruelty; and what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to + expect that her rule over them would be less severe than that of the + master and overseer. Truly, the colored race are the most cheerful and + forgiving people on the face of the earth. That their masters sleep in + safety is owing to their superabundance of heart; and yet they look upon + their sufferings with less pity than they would bestow on those of a horse + or a dog. + </p> + <p> + I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She + was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion + at sight of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy + future were rising before her. It made me sad; for I knew how soon clouds + would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house, and + told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid + old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to + please her. + </p> + <p> + All passed off smoothly for me until dinner time arrived. I did not mind + the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner party, for the first time in my + life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who + would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not + made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting + the house in order. I had not met her, face to face, for five years, and I + had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and, doubtless, + considered my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing + could please her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was + just where she would have me—in the power of a hard, unprincipled + master. She did not speak to me when she took her seat at table; but her + satisfied, triumphant smile, when I handed her plate, was more eloquent + than words. The old doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He + ordered me here and there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said + “your <i>mistress</i>.” I was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all + was over, and the last key turned, I sought my pillow, thankful that God + had appointed a season of rest for the weary. + </p> + <p> + The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly + appointed maid of all work; but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday + evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received + their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and + perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound + and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. + Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The + meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on + planks before the meat house. Then the second foreman went behind the + building, and when the first foreman called out, “Who takes this piece of + meat?” he answered by calling somebody’s name. This method was resorted to + as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young + mistress came out to see how things were done on her plantation, and she + soon gave a specimen of her character. Among those in waiting for their + allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family + through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the + mistress said he was too old to have any allowance; that when niggers were + too old to work, they ought to be fed on grass. Poor old man! He suffered + much before he found rest in the grave. + </p> + <p> + My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week, old + Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her + daughter-in-law. I had my suspicions what was the subject of the + conference. The old doctor’s wife had been informed that I could leave the + plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. + If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have + had no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage + to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, “Don’t neglect to send for + them as quick as possible.” My heart was on the watch all the time, and I + at once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next + day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea table, I heard him say, + “Don’t wait any longer. Send for them to-morrow.” I saw through the plan. + They thought my children’s being there would fetter me to the spot, and + that it was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our + lot as slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always + manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. + Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labor + performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half + famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, + and the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friends. I was + ordered to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, “Linda, + how do you like your new home?” I told him I liked it as well as I + expected. He replied, “They don’t think you are contented, and to-morrow + they are going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, + Linda. I hope they will treat you kindly.” I hurried from the room, unable + to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought + to the plantation to be “broke in.” + </p> + <p> + To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely + information. It nerved me to immediate action. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XVII. The Flight. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Flint was hard pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he + had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of + course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave + them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of + the servants’ quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I + mustn’t bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on + her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a + thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. I + therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as + I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in + their power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to + leave them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon + my dear old grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children + would have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening + work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to + inquire why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my + work. “You have had time enough to do it,” said he. “Take care how you + answer me!” + </p> + <p> + I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third + story, to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how + fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost + need! I was about to risk every thing on the throw of a die; and if I + failed, O what would become of me and my poor children? They would be made + to suffer for my fault. + </p> + <p> + At half past twelve I stole softly down stairs. I stopped on the second + floor, thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor, and + looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see + nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of + rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me. I dropped on my knees, + and breathed a short prayer to God for guidance and protection. I groped + my way to the road, and rushed towards the town with almost lightning + speed. I arrived at my grandmother’s house, but dared not see her. She + would say, “Linda, you are killing me;” and I knew that would unnerve me. + I tapped softly at the window of a room, occupied by a woman, who had + lived in the house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend, and + could be trusted with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard + me. At last she raised the window, and I whispered, “Sally, I have run + away. Let me in, quick.” She opened the door softly, and said in low + tones, “For God’s sake, don’t. Your grandmother is trying to buy you and + de chillern. Mr. Sands was here last week. He tole her he was going away + on business, but he wanted her to go ahead about buying you and de + chillern, and he would help her all he could. Don’t run away, Linda. Your + grandmother is all bowed down wid trouble now.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, “Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation + to-morrow; and they will never sell them to any body so long as they have + me in their power. Now, would you advise me to go back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, chile, no,” answered she. “When dey finds you is gone, dey won’t want + de plague ob de chillern; but where is you going to hide? Dey knows ebery + inch ob dis house.” + </p> + <p> + I told her I had a hiding-place, and that was all it was best for her to + know. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light, and take all + my clothes out of my trunk, and pack them in hers; for I knew Mr. Flint + and the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the + sight of my children would be too much for my full heart; but I could not + go into the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed + where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen. Poor little ones! fatherless and + motherless! Memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to + them; but they were not all to him, as they were to my womanly heart. I + knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly, + and turned away. + </p> + <p> + As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my + shoulder, and said, “Linda, is you gwine all alone? Let me call your + uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sally,” I replied, “I want no one to be brought into trouble on my + account.” + </p> + <p> + I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house + of the friend who was to conceal me. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother’s inquiring for me. + She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He + watched her face narrowly, and said, “Don’t you know any thing about her + running off?” She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, “Last + night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very + kindly. My wife liked her. She will soon be found and brought back. Are + her children with you?” When told that they were, he said, “I am very glad + to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off. If I find out that + any of my niggers have had any thing to do with this damned business, I’ll + give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he started to go to his father’s, he + turned round and added, persuasively, “Let her be brought back, and she + shall have her children to live with her.” + </p> + <p> + The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a + busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top to bottom. + As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. + Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, + and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night + a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would + be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could not be done. Every one + who went in or out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he + would take my children, unless she became responsible for them; which of + course she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before + night, the following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in + every public place for miles round:— + </p> + <p> + $300 REWARD! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto + girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, + and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be made straight. Has a + decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all + probability will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, + under penalty of law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given + to whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and + delivered to me, or lodged in jail. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XVIII. Months Of Peril. + </h2> + <p> + The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had + anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great + anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the + consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even + that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness + to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into + such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my + hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket + of bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a + reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which + loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so + dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and + slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was + compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into + the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my + look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and + vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The + application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread + of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend + asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the + bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in + vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part.<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> Footnote:</a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ The poison of a snake is a + powerful acid, and is counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, + ammonia, &c. The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge + the limb into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in + snaky places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.] + </p> + <p> + I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. + They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to + escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and + let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. + When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come + what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me liberty, or give me + death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my + relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they + said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and + that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in his + mercy raised up “a friend in need.” + </p> + <p> + Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had + known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had + also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At + this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not + unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her + face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My + grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt Martha,” said + the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something to help + you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and sold + slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated them + kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was unlike the + majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked earnestly at her. + Something in the expression of her face said “Trust me!” and she did trust + her. She listened attentively to the details of my story, and sat thinking + for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think + there is any chance of Linda’s getting to the Free States, I will conceal + her for a time. But first you must solemnly promise that my name shall + never be mentioned. If such a thing should become known, it would ruin me + and my family. No one in my house must know of it, except the cook. She is + so faithful that I would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes + Linda. It is a great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word + to Linda to be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I + will send the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” + The place where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My + grandmother was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by + her emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. + </p> + <p> + I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go to + a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of + prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was + to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, + but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I + disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the + appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I + expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so + intense that it seemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We + reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first words were: “Honey, + now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search <i>dis</i> house. When + I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I + specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s vocation led her to + think eating the most important thing in life. She did not realize that my + heart was too full for me to care much about supper. + </p> + <p> + The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over + her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said she; “I + keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not + accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless + they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care + of the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; + and you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I + will keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to + bring your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till + night. I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this + state of things will not last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot + supper,” and the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight + till she returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in + my throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that + deed of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her! + </p> + <p> + I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the + most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with + light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my + window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie + perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr. + Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of + satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed + over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly + compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed + against the strength of their tyrants. + </p> + <p> + I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew + who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for + revenge than he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who + had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who + was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of + compelling my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my + grandmother should never see one of them again till I was brought back. + They kept these facts from me for several days. When I heard that my + little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. + I was encountering dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the + cause of their death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to + soothe me by telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children + while they remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the + good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister’s orphan + children, should be shut up in prison for no other crime than loving them. + I suppose my friends feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as + they did, that my life was bound up in my children. I received a note from + my brother William. It was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you + are, dear sister, I beg of you not to come here. We are all much better + off than you are. If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you + to tell where you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of + your friends; if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for + the sake of those you would ruin.” + </p> + <p> + Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice + and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, + because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being + her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and + eat it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he + could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me + tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold + them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she + repeated their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my + tears would flow. Old Betty would exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying + ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If + you does, you vil nebber git thro’ dis world.” + </p> + <p> + Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had + little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their + soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; + she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that + even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my + feelings? Betty’s husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had + denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with + the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr. + Flint’s. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail, + and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home + to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and + his wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen + cried all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are + true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed + Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, “Here, + Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can’t stand her noise. If she + would be quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a + handy waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with + her white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope + the doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for + their mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running + away. She hasn’t so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its + calf. If she had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of + jail, and save all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! + When she is caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, + and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What + do you stand there for, Bill? Why don’t you go off with the brat? Mind, + now, that you don’t let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!” + </p> + <p> + When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint’s saying + that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself + there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as + one of God’s special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried + back to jail. + </p> + <p> + That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till + near morning. Passing my grandmother’s, he saw a light in the house, and + thought to himself, “Perhaps this has something to do with Linda.” He + knocked, and the door was opened. “What calls you up so early?” said he. + “I saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I + have found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I + shall have her before twelve o’clock.” When he had turned away, my + grandmother and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know + whether or not it was merely one of the doctor’s tricks to frighten them. + In their uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed + to my friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to + dispose of me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress + quickly. We hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. + She locked the door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin + and a bit of carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over + me. “Stay dar,” said she, “till I sees if dey know ’bout you. Dey say dey + vil put thar hans on you afore twelve o’clock. If dey <i>did</i> know whar + you are, dey won’t know <i>now</i>. Dey’ll be disapinted dis time. Dat’s + all I got to say. If dey comes rummagin ’mong <i>my</i> tings, de’ll get + one bressed sarssin from dis ’ere nigger.” In my shallow bed I had but + just room enough to bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of my + eyes; for Betty walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the + dresser to the fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing + anathemas over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, + with a chuckling laugh, “Dis nigger’s too cute for ’em dis time.” When the + housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might + hear what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my + being in this, or that, or the other place. To which they would answer, + that I was not fool enough to be staying round there; that I was in + Philadelphia or New York before this time. When all were abed and asleep, + Betty raised the plank, and said, “Come out, chile; come out. Dey don’t + know nottin ’bout you. Twas only white folks’ lies, to skeer de niggers.” + </p> + <p> + Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very + still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my + mind. I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing + to sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my + discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that + chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too + dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the + house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in + terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the + constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I + did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It + seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and + that was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I + heard approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced + myself against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and + there stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, + and sunk down upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would hear your master’s voice,” she said; “and knowing you + would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may + even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman’s expense. He is so sure you + are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in + pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has + obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the + present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket + hunting after the bird he has left behind.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XIX. The Children Sold. + </h2> + <p> + The Doctor came back from New York, of course without accomplishing his + purpose. He had expended considerable money, and was rather disheartened. + My brother and the children had now been in jail two months, and that also + was some expense. My friends thought it was a favorable time to work on + his discouraged feelings. Mr. Sands sent a speculator to offer him nine + hundred dollars for my brother William, and eight hundred for the two + children. These were high prices, as slaves were then selling; but the + offer was rejected. If it had been merely a question of money, the doctor + would have sold any boy of Benny’s age for two hundred dollars; but he + could not bear to give up the power of revenge. But he was hard pressed + for money, and he revolved the matter in his mind. He knew that if he + could keep Ellen till she was fifteen, he could sell her for a high price; + but I presume he reflected that she might die, or might be stolen away. At + all events, he came to the conclusion that he had better accept the + slave-trader’s offer. Meeting him in the street, he inquired when he would + leave town. “To-day, at ten o’clock,” he replied. “Ah, do you go so soon?” + said the doctor. “I have been reflecting upon your proposition, and I have + concluded to let you have the three negroes if you will say nineteen + hundred dollars.” After some parley, the trader agreed to his terms. He + wanted the bill of sale drawn up and signed immediately, as he had a great + deal to attend to during the short time he remained in town. The doctor + went to the jail and told William he would take him back into his service + if he would promise to behave himself but he replied that he would rather + be sold. “And you <i>shall</i> be sold, you ungrateful rascal!” exclaimed + the doctor. In less than an hour the money was paid, the papers were + signed, sealed, and delivered, and my brother and children were in the + hands of the trader. + </p> + <p> + It was a hurried transaction; and after it was over, the doctor’s + characteristic caution returned. He went back to the speculator, and said, + “Sir, I have come to lay you under obligations of a thousand dollars not + to sell any of those negroes in this state.” “You come too late,” replied + the trader; “our bargain is closed.” He had, in fact, already sold them to + Mr. Sands, but he did not mention it. The doctor required him to put irons + on “that rascal, Bill,” and to pass through the back streets when he took + his gang out of town. The trader was privately instructed to concede to + his wishes. My good old aunt went to the jail to bid the children good by, + supposing them to be the speculator’s property, and that she should never + see them again. As she held Benny in her lap, he said, “Aunt Nancy, I want + to show you something.” He led her to the door and showed her a long row + of marks, saying, “Uncle Will taught me to count. I have made a mark for + every day I have been here, and it is sixty days. It is a long time; and + the speculator is going to take me and Ellen away. He’s a bad man. It’s + wrong for him to take grandmother’s children. I want to go to my mother.” + </p> + <p> + My grandmother was told that the children would be restored to her, but + she was requested to act as if they were really to be sent away. + Accordingly, she made up a bundle of clothes and went to the jail. When + she arrived, she found William handcuffed among the gang, and the children + in the trader’s cart. The scene seemed too much like reality. She was + afraid there might have been some deception or mistake. She fainted, and + was carried home. + </p> + <p> + When the wagon stopped at the hotel, several gentlemen came out and + proposed to purchase William, but the trader refused their offers, without + stating that he was already sold. And now came the trying hour for that + drove of human beings, driven away like cattle, to be sold they knew not + where. Husbands were torn from wives, parents from children, never to look + upon each other again this side the grave. There was wringing of hands and + cries of despair. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the wagon leave town, and + Mrs. Flint had the gratification of supposing that my children were going + “as far as wind and water would carry them.” According to agreement, my + uncle followed the wagon some miles, until they came to an old farm house. + There the trader took the irons from William, and as he did so, he said, + “You are a damned clever fellow. I should like to own you myself. Them + gentlemen that wanted to buy you said you was a bright, honest chap, and I + must git you a good home. I guess your old master will swear to-morrow, + and call himself an old fool for selling the children. I reckon he’ll + never git their mammy back again. I expect she’s made tracks for the + north. Good by, old boy. Remember, I have done you a good turn. You must + thank me by coaxing all the pretty gals to go with me next fall. That’s + going to be my last trip. This trading in niggers is a bad business for a + fellow that’s got any heart. Move on, you fellows!” And the gang went on, + God alone knows where. + </p> + <p> + Much as I despise and detest the class of slave-traders, whom I regard as + the vilest wretches on earth, I must do this man the justice to say that + he seemed to have some feeling. He took a fancy to William in the jail, + and wanted to buy him. When he heard the story of my children, he was + willing to aid them in getting out of Dr. Flint’s power, even without + charging the customary fee. + </p> + <p> + My uncle procured a wagon and carried William and the children back to + town. Great was the joy in my grandmother’s house! The curtains were + closed, and the candles lighted. The happy grandmother cuddled the little + ones to her bosom. They hugged her, and kissed her, and clapped their + hands, and shouted. She knelt down and poured forth one of her heartfelt + prayers of thanksgiving to God. The father was present for a while; and + though such a “parental relation” as existed between him and my children + takes slight hold on the hearts or consciences of slaveholders, it must be + that he experienced some moments of pure joy in witnessing the happiness + he had imparted. + </p> + <p> + I had no share in the rejoicings of that evening. The events of the day + had not come to my knowledge. And now I will tell you something that + happened to me; though you will, perhaps, think it illustrates the + superstition of slaves. I sat in my usual place on the floor near the + window, where I could hear much that was said in the street without being + seen. The family had retired for the night, and all was still. I sat there + thinking of my children, when I heard a low strain of music. A band of + serenaders were under the window, playing “Home, sweet home.” I listened + till the sounds did not seem like music, but like the moaning of children. + It seemed as if my heart would burst. I rose from my sitting posture, and + knelt. A streak of moonlight was on the floor before me, and in the midst + of it appeared the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen + them distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not + how to account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I + felt certain something had happened to my little ones. + </p> + <p> + I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the + key. As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know + whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen + their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them. + “Lor, chile,” said she, putting her arms round me, “you’s got de + high-sterics. I’ll sleep wid you to-night, ’cause you’ll make a noise, and + ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done + cryin, I’ll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed + ’em myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear + you.” I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no + sleep would come to my eyelids. + </p> + <p> + At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the + vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a + while I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I + recognized the housemaid. The other said to her, “Did you know Linda + Brent’s children was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa + Flint was mighty glad to see ’em drove out of town; but they say they’ve + come back agin. I ’spect it’s all their daddy’s doings. They say he’s + bought William too. Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I’m + going roun’ to aunt Marthy’s to see ’bout it.” + </p> + <p> + I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my + children with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? + The suspense was dreadful. Would Betty <i>never</i> come, and tell me the + truth about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had + overheard. Her face was one broad, bright smile. “Lor, you foolish ting!” + said she. “I’se gwine to tell you all ’bout it. De gals is eating thar + breakfast, and missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! + t’aint right to keep you waitin’, and I’se gwine to tell you. Brudder, + chillern, all is bought by de daddy! I’se laugh more dan nuff, tinking + ’bout ole massa Flint. Lor, how he <i>vill</i> swar! He’s got ketched dis + time, any how; but I must be getting out o’ dis, or dem gals vill come and + ketch <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Betty went off laughing; and I said to myself, “Can it be true that my + children are free? I have not suffered for them in vain. Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + Great surprise was expressed when it was known that my children had + returned to their grandmother’s. The news spread through the town, and + many a kind word was bestowed on the little ones. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint went to my grandmother’s to ascertain who was the owner of my + children, and she informed him. “I expected as much,” said he. “I am glad + to hear it. I have had news from Linda lately, and I shall soon have her. + You need never expect to see <i>her</i> free. She shall be my slave as + long as I live, and when I am dead she shall be the slave of my children. + If I ever find out that you or Phillip had anything to do with her running + off I’ll kill him. And if I meet William in the street, and he presumes to + look at me, I’ll flog him within an inch of his life. Keep those brats out + of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + As he turned to leave, my grandmother said something to remind him of his + own doings. He looked back upon her, as if he would have been glad to + strike her to the ground. + </p> + <p> + I had my season of joy and thanksgiving. It was the first time since my + childhood that I had experienced any real happiness. I heard of the old + doctor’s threats, but they no longer had the same power to trouble me. The + darkest cloud that hung over my life had rolled away. Whatever slavery + might do to me, it could not shackle my children. If I fell a sacrifice, + my little ones were saved. It was well for me that my simple heart + believed all that had been promised for their welfare. It is always better + to trust than to doubt. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XX. New Perils. + </h2> + <p> + The doctor, more exasperated than ever, again tried to revenge himself on + my relatives. He arrested uncle Phillip on the charge of having aided my + flight. He was carried before a court, and swore truly that he knew + nothing of my intention to escape, and that he had not seen me since I + left my master’s plantation. The doctor then demanded that he should give + bail for five hundred dollars that he would have nothing to do with me. + Several gentlemen offered to be security for him; but Mr. Sands told him + he had better go back to jail, and he would see that he came out without + giving bail. + </p> + <p> + The news of his arrest was carried to my grandmother, who conveyed it to + Betty. In the kindness of her heart, she again stowed me away under the + floor; and as she walked back and forth, in the performance of her + culinary duties, she talked apparently to herself, but with the intention + that I should hear what was going on. I hoped that my uncle’s imprisonment + would last but few days; still I was anxious. I thought it likely Dr. + Flint would do his utmost to taunt and insult him, and I was afraid my + uncle might lose control of himself, and retort in some way that would be + construed into a punishable offence; and I was well aware that in court + his word would not be taken against any white man’s. The search for me was + renewed. Something had excited suspicions that I was in the vicinity. They + searched the house I was in. I heard their steps and their voices. At + night, when all were asleep, Betty came to release me from my place of + confinement. The fright I had undergone, the constrained posture, and the + dampness of the ground, made me ill for several days. My uncle was soon + after taken out of prison; but the movements of all my relatives, and of + all our friends, were very closely watched. + </p> + <p> + We all saw that I could not remain where I was much longer. I had already + staid longer than was intended, and I knew my presence must be a source of + perpetual anxiety to my kind benefactress. During this time, my friends + had laid many plans for my escape, but the extreme vigilance of my + persecutors made it impossible to carry them into effect. + </p> + <p> + One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my + room. Several keys were tried, but none fitted. I instantly conjectured it + was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some + noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty. When my friend + came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened. “I knows who it + was,” said she. “Tend upon it, ’twas dat Jenny. Dat nigger allers got de + debble in her.” I suggested that she might have seen or heard something + that excited her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn + notin’. She only ’spects something. Dat’s all. She wants to fine out who + hab cut and make my gownd. But she won’t nebber know. Dat’s sartin. I’ll + git missis to fix her.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied. “I’se mighty ’fraid dat + ’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.” + </p> + <p> + She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep + Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip. He told her + he would send a friend for me that very evening. She told him she hoped I + was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any + where in the vicinity. Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my + situation, to go to the north. In order to leave the coast quite clear for + me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took + Jenny with her. She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a + kind message with Betty. I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I + never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling + fugitive! Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her! + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest idea where I was going. Betty brought me a suit of + sailor’s clothes,—jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat. She gave me a + small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going. In cheery tones, + she exclaimed, “I’se <i>so</i> glad you is gwine to free parts! Don’t + forget ole Betty. P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness. But she + interrupted me. “I don’t want no tanks, honey. I’se glad I could help you, + and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you. I’se gwine wid you to + de lower gate. Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de + sailors.” + </p> + <p> + I performed to her satisfaction. At the gate I found Peter, a young + colored man, waiting for me. I had known him for years. He had been an + apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character. I was not + afraid to trust to him. Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked + off. “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter. “I’ve got a dagger, and + no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body.” + </p> + <p> + It was a long time since I had taken a walk out of doors, and the fresh + air revived me. It was also pleasant to hear a human voice speaking to me + above a whisper. I passed several people whom I knew, but they did not + recognize me in my disguise. I prayed internally that, for Peter’s sake, + as well as my own, nothing might occur to bring out his dagger. We walked + on till we came to the wharf. My aunt Nancy’s husband was a seafaring man, + and it had been deemed necessary to let him into our secret. He took me + into his boat, rowed out to a vessel not far distant, and hoisted me on + board. We three were the only occupants of the vessel. I now ventured to + ask what they proposed to do with me. They said I was to remain on board + till near dawn, and then they would hide me in Snaky Swamp, till my uncle + Phillip had prepared a place of concealment for me. If the vessel had been + bound north, it would have been of no avail to me, for it would certainly + have been searched. About four o’clock, we were again seated in the boat, + and rowed three miles to the swamp. My fear of snakes had been increased + by the venomous bite I had received, and I dreaded to enter this hiding-place. But I was in no situation to choose, and I gratefully accepted the + best that my poor, persecuted friends could do for me. + </p> + <p> + Peter landed first, and with a large knife cut a path through bamboos and + briers of all descriptions. He came back, took me in his arms, and carried + me to a seat made among the bamboos. Before we reached it, we were covered + with hundreds of mosquitos. In an hour’s time they had so poisoned my + flesh that I was a pitiful sight to behold. As the light increased, I saw + snake after snake crawling round us. I had been accustomed to the sight of + snakes all my life, but these were larger than any I had ever seen. To + this day I shudder when I remember that morning. As evening approached, + the number of snakes increased so much that we were continually obliged to + thrash them with sticks to keep them from crawling over us. The bamboos + were so high and so thick that it was impossible to see beyond a very + short distance. Just before it became dark we procured a seat nearer to + the entrance of the swamp, being fearful of losing our way back to the + boat. It was not long before we heard the paddle of oars, and the low + whistle, which had been agreed upon as a signal. We made haste to enter + the boat, and were rowed back to the vessel. I passed a wretched night; + for the heat of the swamp, the mosquitos, and the constant terror of + snakes, had brought on a burning fever. I had just dropped asleep, when + they came and told me it was time to go back to that horrid swamp. I could + scarcely summon courage to rise. But even those large, venomous snakes + were less dreadful to my imagination than the white men in that community + called civilized. This time Peter took a quantity of tobacco to burn, to + keep off the mosquitos. It produced the desired effect on them, but gave + me nausea and severe headache. At dark we returned to the vessel. I had + been so sick during the day, that Peter declared I should go home that + night, if the devil himself was on patrol. They told me a place of + concealment had been provided for me at my grandmother’s. I could not + imagine how it was possible to hide me in her house, every nook and corner + of which was known to the Flint family. They told me to wait and see. We + were rowed ashore, and went boldly through the streets, to my + grandmother’s. I wore my sailor’s clothes, and had blackened my face with + charcoal. I passed several people whom I knew. The father of my children + came so near that I brushed against his arm; but he had no idea who it + was. + </p> + <p> + “You must make the most of this walk,” said my friend Peter, “for you may + not have another very soon.” + </p> + <p> + I thought his voice sounded sad. It was kind of him to conceal from me + what a dismal hole was to be my home for a long, long time. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXI. The Loophole Of Retreat. + </h2> + <p> + A small shed had been added to my grandmother’s house years ago. Some + boards were laid across the joists at the top, and between these boards + and the roof was a very small garret, never occupied by any thing but rats + and mice. It was a pent roof, covered with nothing but shingles, according + to the southern custom for such buildings. The garret was only nine feet + long and seven wide. The highest part was three feet high, and sloped down + abruptly to the loose board floor. There was no admission for either light + or air. My uncle Phillip, who was a carpenter, had very skilfully made a + concealed trap-door, which communicated with the storeroom. He had been + doing this while I was waiting in the swamp. The storeroom opened upon a + piazza. To this hole I was conveyed as soon as I entered the house. The + air was stifling; the darkness total. A bed had been spread on the floor. + I could sleep quite comfortably on one side; but the slope was so sudden + that I could not turn on my other without hitting the roof. The rats and + mice ran over my bed; but I was weary, and I slept such sleep as the + wretched may, when a tempest has passed over them. Morning came. I knew it + only by the noises I heard; for in my small den day and night were all the + same. I suffered for air even more than for light. But I was not + comfortless. I heard the voices of my children. There was joy and there + was sadness in the sound. It made my tears flow. How I longed to speak to + them! I was eager to look on their faces; but there was no hole, no crack, + through which I could peep. This continued darkness was oppressive. It + seemed horrible to sit or lie in a cramped position day after day, without + one gleam of light. Yet I would have chosen this, rather than my lot as a + slave, though white people considered it an easy one; and it was so + compared with the fate of others. I was never cruelly overworked; I was + never lacerated with the whip from head to foot; I was never so beaten and + bruised that I could not turn from one side to the other; I never had my + heel-strings cut to prevent my running away; I was never chained to a log + and forced to drag it about, while I toiled in the fields from morning + till night; I was never branded with hot iron, or torn by bloodhounds. On + the contrary, I had always been kindly treated, and tenderly cared for, + until I came into the hands of Dr. Flint. I had never wished for freedom + till then. But though my life in slavery was comparatively devoid of + hardships, God pity the woman who is compelled to lead such a life! + </p> + <p> + My food was passed up to me through the trap-door my uncle had contrived; + and my grandmother, my uncle Phillip, and aunt Nancy would seize such + opportunities as they could, to mount up there and chat with me at the + opening. But of course this was not safe in the daytime. It must all be + done in darkness. It was impossible for me to move in an erect position, + but I crawled about my den for exercise. One day I hit my head against + something, and found it was a gimlet. My uncle had left it sticking there + when he made the trap-door. I was as rejoiced as Robinson Crusoe could + have been at finding such a treasure. It put a lucky thought into my head. + I said to myself, “Now I will have some light. Now I will see my + children.” I did not dare to begin my work during the daytime, for fear of + attracting attention. But I groped round; and having found the side next + the street, where I could frequently see my children, I stuck the gimlet + in and waited for evening. I bored three rows of holes, one above another; + then I bored out the interstices between. I thus succeeded in making one + hole about an inch long and an inch broad. I sat by it till late into the + night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the morning I + watched for my children. The first person I saw in the street was Dr. + Flint. I had a shuddering, superstitious feeling that it was a bad omen. + Several familiar faces passed by. At last I heard the merry laugh of + children, and presently two sweet little faces were looking up at me, as + though they knew I was there, and were conscious of the joy they imparted. + How I longed to <i>tell</i> them I was there! + </p> + <p> + My condition was now a little improved. But for weeks I was tormented by + hundreds of little red insects, fine as a needle’s point, that pierced + through my skin, and produced an intolerable burning. The good grandmother + gave me herb teas and cooling medicines, and finally I got rid of them. + The heat of my den was intense, for nothing but thin shingles protected me + from the scorching summer’s sun. But I had my consolations. Through my + peeping-hole I could watch the children, and when they were near enough, I + could hear their talk. Aunt Nancy brought me all the news she could hear + at Dr. Flint’s. From her I learned that the doctor had written to New York + to a colored woman, who had been born and raised in our neighborhood, and + had breathed his contaminating atmosphere. He offered her a reward if she + could find out any thing about me. I know not what was the nature of her + reply; but he soon after started for New York in haste, saying to his + family that he had business of importance to transact. I peeped at him as + he passed on his way to the steamboat. It was a satisfaction to have miles + of land and water between us, even for a little while; and it was a still + greater satisfaction to know that he believed me to be in the Free States. + My little den seemed less dreary than it had done. He returned, as he did + from his former journey to New York, without obtaining any satisfactory + information. When he passed our house next morning, Benny was standing at + the gate. He had heard them say that he had gone to find me, and he called + out, “Dr. Flint, did you bring my mother home? I want to see her.” The + doctor stamped his foot at him in a rage, and exclaimed, “Get out of the + way, you little damned rascal! If you don’t, I’ll cut off your head.” + </p> + <p> + Benny ran terrified into the house, saying, “You can’t put me in jail + again. I don’t belong to you now.” It was well that the wind carried the + words away from the doctor’s ear. I told my grandmother of it, when we had + our next conference at the trap-door, and begged of her not to allow the + children to be impertinent to the irascible old man. + </p> + <p> + Autumn came, with a pleasant abatement of heat. My eyes had become + accustomed to the dim light, and by holding my book or work in a certain + position near the aperture I contrived to read and sew. That was a great + relief to the tedious monotony of my life. But when winter came, the cold + penetrated through the thin shingle roof, and I was dreadfully chilled. + The winters there are not so long, or so severe, as in northern latitudes; + but the houses are not built to shelter from cold, and my little den was + peculiarly comfortless. The kind grandmother brought me bedclothes and + warm drinks. Often I was obliged to lie in bed all day to keep + comfortable; but with all my precautions, my shoulders and feet were + frostbitten. O, those long, gloomy days, with no object for my eye to rest + upon, and no thoughts to occupy my mind, except the dreary past and the + uncertain future! I was thankful when there came a day sufficiently mild + for me to wrap myself up and sit at the loophole to watch the passers by. + Southerners have the habit of stopping and talking in the streets, and I + heard many conversations not intended to meet my ears. I heard + slave-hunters planning how to catch some poor fugitive. Several times I + heard allusions to Dr. Flint, myself, and the history of my children, who, + perhaps, were playing near the gate. One would say, “I wouldn’t move my + little finger to catch her, as old Flint’s property.” Another would say, + “I’ll catch <i>any</i> nigger for the reward. A man ought to have what + belongs to him, if he <i>is</i> a damned brute.” The opinion was often + expressed that I was in the Free States. Very rarely did any one suggest + that I might be in the vicinity. Had the least suspicion rested on my + grandmother’s house, it would have been burned to the ground. But it was + the last place they thought of. Yet there was no place, where slavery + existed, that could have afforded me so good a place of concealment. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint and his family repeatedly tried to coax and bribe my children to + tell something they had heard said about me. One day the doctor took them + into a shop, and offered them some bright little silver pieces and gay + handkerchiefs if they would tell where their mother was. Ellen shrank away + from him, and would not speak; but Benny spoke up, and said, “Dr. Flint, I + don’t know where my mother is. I guess she’s in New York; and when you go + there again, I wish you’d ask her to come home, for I want to see her; but + if you put her in jail, or tell her you’ll cut her head off, I’ll tell her + to go right back.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXII. Christmas Festivities. + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied + myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. + Were it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are + fearfully looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, + Christmas might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers + try to gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and + Ellen had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could + not have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the + pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new + suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought + him any thing. “Yes,” replied the boy; “but Santa Claus ain’t a real man. + It’s the children’s mothers that put things into the stockings.” “No, that + can’t be,” replied Benny, “for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new + clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time.” + </p> + <p> + How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that + many a tear fell on them while she worked! + </p> + <p> + Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus. + Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They + consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the + lower class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over + them, covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows’ tails are + fastened to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, + covered with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, + while other strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep + time. For a month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on + this occasion. These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the + morning, and are allowed to go round till twelve o’clock, begging for + contributions. Not a door is left unvisited where there is the least + chance of obtaining a penny or a glass of rum. They do not drink while + they are out, but carry the rum home in jugs, to have a carousal. These + Christmas donations frequently amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is + seldom that any white man or child refuses to give them a trifle. If he + does, they regale his ears with the following song:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Poor massa, so dey say;<br /> + Down in de heel, so dey say;<br /> + Got no money, so dey say;<br /> + Not one shillin, so dey say;<br /> + God A’mighty bress you, so dey say. +</div> + <p> + Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. + Slaves, who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend + them for good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without + saying, “By your leave, sir.” Those who cannot obtain these, cook a + ’possum, or a raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My + grandmother raised poultry and pigs for sale and it was her established + custom to have both a turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests + had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free + colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always + ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white + people. My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take + them all over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open + for them to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs + to look at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, + the rooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard them + talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored + man had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood + of a slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off + for white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders’ feet. How I despised + him! As for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his + office were despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as + he did not pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise + money enough to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by + being a constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise + authority. If he found any slave out after nine o’clock, he could whip him + as much as he liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the + guests were ready to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her + nice pudding, as a present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw + them go out of the gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So + passed the first Christmas in my den. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXIII. Still In Prison. + </h2> + <p> + When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture + commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be + condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh + air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the + earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for + a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even + tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop + from the thin roof over my head. + </p> + <p> + During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room + to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so + stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all + my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, + either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I + suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed <i>him</i> to be out + in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the + only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon + me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I + should die before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl + through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most + terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the + roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. + Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, + and that was not comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I + could keep out by filling the chinks with oakum. + </p> + <p> + But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of + doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw + a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he + will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress had that + day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair + face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her + child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her + master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her + mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold + to a Georgia trader. + </p> + <p> + Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a + slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling offence + her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the + degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended + her wrongs in death. + </p> + <p> + Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as + these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he + stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery + was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the + master, and a blessing to the slave!” + </p> + <p> + I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. + My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I + had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and + tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was + impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother + William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched + tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire + whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to + consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself + leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with streaming + eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an + unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great + danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied + me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at + heart. How to get medical advice was the question. William finally went to + a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and + aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially + charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in + my little den? Charcoal in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet + for the gas, and it nearly cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already + kindled, were brought up in an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so + weak, and it was so long since I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that + those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some + good; but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind + as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, + dismal as it was, and even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for + the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate + Father, who would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other + times, it seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine + government. I asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and + why I had been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things + took the shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as + I trust it will be hereafter. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight and + anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best + friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, + how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I + could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me! + </p> + <p> + One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my + peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually + kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I + heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed + up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this and be unable + to go to him! + </p> + <p> + But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. + Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of + the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day + that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from + his wounds; but it was long before he could walk. + </p> + <p> + When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her + customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire + whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked + permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t + see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when she found other + ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in + Christian charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, + and stood by the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who + had been repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her + so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She + herself sent for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my + retreat, I should have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He + pronounced my grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her + attending physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have + him coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him + a chance to make out a long bill. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that + a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he had killed + him. It would be good news to send to his mother. <i>Her</i> day will + come. The dogs will grab <i>her</i> yet.” With these Christian words she + and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more. + </p> + <p> + I learned from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and + gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could + now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of + feeling that I caused her death.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXIV. The Candidate For Congress. + </h2> + <p> + The summer had nearly ended, when Dr. Flint made a third visit to New + York, in search of me. Two candidates were running for Congress, and he + returned in season to vote. The father of my children was the Whig + candidate. The doctor had hitherto been a stanch Whig; but now he exerted + all his energies for the defeat of Mr. Sands. He invited large parties of + men to dine in the shade of his trees, and supplied them with plenty of + rum and brandy. If any poor fellow drowned his wits in the bowl, and, in + the openness of his convivial heart, proclaimed that he did not mean to + vote the Democratic ticket, he was shoved into the street without + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The doctor expended his liquor in vain. Mr. Sands was elected; an event + which occasioned me some anxious thoughts. He had not emancipated my + children, and if he should die they would be at the mercy of his heirs. + Two little voices, that frequently met my ear, seemed to plead with me not + to let their father depart without striving to make their freedom secure. + Years had passed since I had spoken to him. I had not even seen him since + the night I passed him, unrecognized, in my disguise of a sailor. I + supposed he would call before he left, to say something to my grandmother + concerning the children, and I resolved what course to take. + </p> + <p> + The day before his departure for Washington I made arrangements, toward + evening, to get from my hiding-place into the storeroom below. I found + myself so stiff and clumsy that it was with great difficulty I could hitch + from one resting place to another. When I reached the storeroom my ankles + gave way under me, and I sank exhausted on the floor. It seemed as if I + could never use my limbs again. But the purpose I had in view roused all + the strength I had. I crawled on my hands and knees to the window, and, + screened behind a barrel, I waited for his coming. The clock struck nine, + and I knew the steamboat would leave between ten and eleven. My hopes were + failing. But presently I heard his voice, saying to some one, “Wait for me + a moment. I wish to see aunt Martha.” When he came out, as he passed the + window, I said, “Stop one moment, and let me speak for my children.” He + started, hesitated, and then passed on, and went out of the gate. I closed + the shutter I had partially opened, and sank down behind the barrel. I had + suffered much; but seldom had I experienced a keener pang than I then + felt. Had my children, then, become of so little consequence to him? And + had he so little feeling for their wretched mother that he would not + listen a moment while she pleaded for them? Painful memories were so busy + within me, that I forgot I had not hooked the shutter, till I heard some + one opening it. I looked up. He had come back. “Who called me?” said he, + in a low tone. “I did,” I replied. “Oh, Linda,” said he, “I knew your + voice; but I was afraid to answer, lest my friend should hear me. Why do + you come here? Is it possible you risk yourself in this house? They are + mad to allow it. I shall expect to hear that you are all ruined,” I did + not wish to implicate him, by letting him know my place of concealment; so + I merely said, “I thought you would come to bid grandmother good by, and + so I came here to speak a few words to you about emancipating my children. + Many changes may take place during the six months you are gone to + Washington, and it does not seem right for you to expose them to the risk + of such changes. I want nothing for myself; all I ask is, that you will + free my children, or authorize some friend to do it, before you go.” + </p> + <p> + He promised he would do it, and also expressed a readiness; to make any + arrangements whereby I could be purchased. + </p> + <p> + I heard footsteps approaching, and closed the shutter hastily. I wanted to + crawl back to my den, without letting the family know what I had done; for + I knew they would deem it very imprudent. But he stepped back into the + house, to tell my grandmother that he had spoken with me at the storeroom + window, and to beg of her not to allow me to remain in the house over + night. He said it was the height of madness for me to be there; that we + should certainly all be ruined. Luckily, he was in too much of a hurry to + wait for a reply, or the dear old woman would surely have told him all. + </p> + <p> + I tried to go back to my den, but found it more difficult to go up than I + had to come down. Now that my mission was fulfilled, the little strength + that had supported me through it was gone, and I sank helpless on the + floor. My grandmother, alarmed at the risk I had run, came into the + storeroom in the dark, and locked the door behind her. “Linda,” she + whispered, “where are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here by the window,” I replied. “I <i>couldn’t</i> have him go away + without emancipating the children. Who knows what may happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, child,” said she, “it won’t do for you to stay here another + minute. You’ve done wrong; but I can’t blame you, poor thing!” I told her + I could not return without assistance, and she must call my uncle. Uncle + Phillip came, and pity prevented him from scolding me. He carried me back + to my dungeon, laid me tenderly on the bed, gave me some medicine, and + asked me if there was any thing more he could do. Then he went away, and I + was left with my own thoughts—starless as the midnight darkness + around me. + </p> + <p> + My friends feared I should become a cripple for life; and I was so weary + of my long imprisonment that, had it not been for the hope of serving my + children, I should have been thankful to die; but, for their sakes, I was + willing to bear on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXV. Competition In Cunning. + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Flint had not given me up. Every now and then he would say to my + grandmother that I would yet come back, and voluntarily surrender myself; + and that when I did, I could be purchased by my relatives, or any one who + wished to buy me. I knew his cunning nature too well not to perceive that + this was a trap laid for me; and so all my friends understood it. I + resolved to match my cunning against his cunning. In order to make him + believe that I was in New York, I resolved to write him a letter dated + from that place. I sent for my friend Peter, and asked him if he knew any + trustworthy seafaring person, who would carry such a letter to New York, + and put it in the post office there. He said he knew one that he would + trust with his own life to the ends of the world. I reminded him that it + was a hazardous thing for him to undertake. He said he knew it, but he was + willing to do any thing to help me. I expressed a wish for a New York + paper, to ascertain the names of some of the streets. He run his hand into + his pocket, and said, “Here is half a one, that was round a cap I bought + of a pedler yesterday.” I told him the letter would be ready the next + evening. He bade me good by, adding, “Keep up your spirits, Linda; + brighter days will come by and by.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip kept watch over the gate until our brief interview was + over. Early the next morning, I seated myself near the little aperture to + examine the newspaper. It was a piece of the New York Herald; and, for + once, the paper that systematically abuses the colored people, was made to + render them a service. Having obtained what information I wanted + concerning streets and numbers, I wrote two letters, one to my + grandmother, the other to Dr. Flint. I reminded him how he, a gray-headed + man, had treated a helpless child, who had been placed in his power, and + what years of misery he had brought upon her. To my grandmother, I + expressed a wish to have my children sent to me at the north, where I + could teach them to respect themselves, and set them a virtuous example; + which a slave mother was not allowed to do at the south. I asked her to + direct her answer to a certain street in Boston, as I did not live in New + York, though I went there sometimes. I dated these letters ahead, to allow + for the time it would take to carry them, and sent a memorandum of the + date to the messenger. When my friend came for the letters, I said, “God + bless and reward you, Peter, for this disinterested kindness. Pray be + careful. If you are detected, both you and I will have to suffer + dreadfully. I have not a relative who would dare to do it for me.” He + replied, “You may trust to me, Linda. I don’t forget that your father was + my best friend, and I will be a friend to his children so long as God lets + me live.” + </p> + <p> + It was necessary to tell my grandmother what I had done, in order that she + might be ready for the letter, and prepared to hear what Dr. Flint might + say about my being at the north. She was sadly troubled. She felt sure + mischief would come of it. I also told my plan to aunt Nancy, in order + that she might report to us what was said at Dr. Flint’s house. I + whispered it to her through a crack, and she whispered back, “I hope it + will succeed. I shan’t mind being a slave all <i>my</i> life, if I can + only see you and the children free.” + </p> + <p> + I had directed that my letters should be put into the New York post office + on the 20th of the month. On the evening of the 24th my aunt came to say + that Dr. Flint and his wife had been talking in a low voice about a letter + he had received, and that when he went to his office he promised to bring + it when he came to tea. So I concluded I should hear my letter read the + next morning. I told my grandmother Dr. Flint would be sure to come, and + asked her to have him sit near a certain door, and leave it open, that I + might hear what he said. The next morning I took my station within sound + of that door, and remained motionless as a statue. It was not long before + I heard the gate slam, and the well known footsteps enter the house. He + seated himself in the chair that was placed for him, and said, “Well, + Martha, I’ve brought you a letter from Linda. She has sent me a letter, + also. I know exactly where to find her; but I don’t choose to go to Boston + for her. I had rather she would come back of her own accord, in a + respectable manner. Her uncle Phillip is the best person to go for her. + With <i>him</i>, she would feel perfectly free to act. I am willing to pay + his expenses going and returning. She shall be sold to her friends. Her + children are free; at least I suppose they are; and when you obtain her + freedom, you’ll make a happy family. I suppose, Martha, you have no + objection to my reading to you the letter Linda has written to you.” + </p> + <p> + He broke the seal, and I heard him read it. The old villain! He had + suppressed the letter I wrote to grandmother, and prepared a substitute of + his own, the purport of which was as follows:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write to you; but the + disgraceful manner in which I left you and my children made me + ashamed to do it. If you knew how much I have suffered since I + ran away, you would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom + at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be made for me to return + to the south without being a slave, I would gladly come. If not, + I beg of you to send my children to the north. I cannot live any + longer without them. Let me know in time, and I will meet them in + New York or Philadelphia, whichever place best suits my uncle’s + convenience. Write as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, + + Linda. +</div> + <p> + “It is very much as I expected it would be,” said the old hypocrite, + rising to go. “You see the foolish girl has repented of her rashness, and + wants to return. We must help her to do it, Martha. Talk with Phillip + about it. If he will go for her, she will trust to him, and come back. I + should like an answer to-morrow. Good morning, Martha.” + </p> + <p> + As he stepped out on the piazza, he stumbled over my little girl. “Ah, + Ellen, is that you?” he said, in his most gracious manner. “I didn’t see + you. How do you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, sir,” she replied. “I heard you tell grandmother that my + mother is coming home. I want to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ellen, I am going to bring her home very soon,” rejoined he; “and + you shall see her as much as you like, you little curly-headed nigger.” + </p> + <p> + This was as good as a comedy to me, who had heard it all; but grandmother + was frightened and distressed, because the doctor wanted my uncle to go + for me. + </p> + <p> + The next evening Dr. Flint called to talk the matter over. My uncle told + him that from what he had heard of Massachusetts, he judged he should be + mobbed if he went there after a runaway slave. “All stuff and nonsense, + Phillip!” replied the doctor. “Do you suppose I want you to kick up a row + in Boston? The business can all be done quietly. Linda writes that she + wants to come back. You are her relative, and she would trust <i>you</i>. + The case would be different if I went. She might object to coming with <i>me</i>; + and the damned abolitionists, if they knew I was her master, would not + believe me, if I told them she had begged to go back. They would get up a + row; and I should not like to see Linda dragged through the streets like a + common negro. She has been very ungrateful to me for all my kindness; but + I forgive her, and want to act the part of a friend towards her. I have no + wish to hold her as my slave. Her friends can buy her as soon as she + arrives here.” + </p> + <p> + Finding that his arguments failed to convince my uncle, the doctor “let + the cat out of the bag,” by saying that he had written to the mayor of + Boston, to ascertain whether there was a person of my description at the + street and number from which my letter was dated. He had omitted this date + in the letter he had made up to read to my grandmother. If I had dated + from New York, the old man would probably have made another journey to + that city. But even in that dark region, where knowledge is so carefully + excluded from the slave, I had heard enough about Massachusetts to come to + the conclusion that slaveholders did not consider it a comfortable place + to go in search of a runaway. That was before the Fugitive Slave Law was + passed; before Massachusetts had consented to become a “nigger hunter” for + the south. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother, who had become skittish by seeing her family always in + danger, came to me with a very distressed countenance, and said, “What + will you do if the mayor of Boston sends him word that you haven’t been + there? Then he will suspect the letter was a trick; and maybe he’ll find + out something about it, and we shall all get into trouble. O Linda, I wish + you had never sent the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry yourself, Grandmother,” said I. “The mayor of Boston won’t + trouble himself to hunt niggers for Dr. Flint. The letters will do good in + the end. I shall get out of this dark hole some time or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will, child,” replied the good, patient old friend. “You have + been here a long time; almost five years; but whenever you do go, it will + break your old grandmother’s heart. I should be expecting every day to + hear that you were brought back in irons and put in jail. God help you, + poor child! Let us be thankful that some time or other we shall go ‘where + the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’” My heart + responded, Amen. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Dr. Flint had written to the mayor of Boston convinced me + that he believed my letter to be genuine, and of course that he had no + suspicion of my being any where in the vicinity. It was a great object to + keep up this delusion, for it made me and my friends feel less anxious, + and it would be very convenient whenever there was a chance to escape. I + resolved, therefore, to continue to write letters from the north from time + to time. + </p> + <p> + Two or three weeks passed, and as no news came from the mayor of Boston, + grandmother began to listen to my entreaty to be allowed to leave my cell, + sometimes, and exercise my limbs to prevent my becoming a cripple. I was + allowed to slip down into the small storeroom, early in the morning, and + remain there a little while. The room was all filled up with barrels, + except a small open space under my trap-door. This faced the door, the + upper part of which was of glass, and purposely left uncurtained, that the + curious might look in. The air of this place was close; but it was so much + better than the atmosphere of my cell, that I dreaded to return. I came + down as soon as it was light, and remained till eight o’clock, when people + began to be about, and there was danger that some one might come on the + piazza. I had tried various applications to bring warmth and feeling into + my limbs, but without avail. They were so numb and stiff that it was a + painful effort to move; and had my enemies come upon me during the first + mornings I tried to exercise them a little in the small unoccupied space + of the storeroom, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXVI. Important Era In My Brother’s Life. + </h2> + <p> + I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had + gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters + from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a + manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to + him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William + wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some + time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had + promised to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would + William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk + together, in our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it + very doubtful whether he would come back to us. + </p> + <p> + Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had + proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; + that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled + through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had + tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they + should be at home shortly. + </p> + <p> + We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, + but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late + in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I + felt almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he + no word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in + her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the + uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God’s could see me, I + wept bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my + children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother! + </p> + <p> + At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had + made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old + hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s place occupied its + old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. + She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my + prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear + brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by + Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that + the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel + troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few + days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could + never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him. + </p> + <p> + If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the + messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old + grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I + was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother + had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a + good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had + incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, + who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their + emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father + was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises + made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, + depend upon many contingencies for their fulfillment. + </p> + <p> + Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and + anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it + seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the + children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it + would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as + only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has + gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May be he’ll find mother. If + he does, <i>won’t</i> she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle + Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; + wouldn’t you, Ellen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do you + know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do + you, Benny?” + </p> + <p> + Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an + old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had + witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts + unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that + my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, + “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?” + </p> + <p> + “O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my + children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and lay + my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He + staid at the north.” + </p> + <p> + Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is <i>dat</i> what you’s crying + fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t + know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t know + whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you <i>do</i> know whar her brudder is. + He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s + doings but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.” + </p> + <p> + My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the + escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was + only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and + prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my + family was saved from the grasp of slavery. + </p> + <p> + It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that + Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his + duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be + free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better + not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, “Don’t worry + about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur + me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to + give you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live + happy together.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving + him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him + as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no + idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. He’s young and + inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the + scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor + House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. + He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather + shabby, and asked if he didn’t need some money. He said, No, thanked me, + and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited + patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our + journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me + where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He + wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my + kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a + free man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive + him. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have + trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, + or send for him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me.” + </p> + <p> + I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had + not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could + give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at + his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had + he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he + might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his + freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be + seized by creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in + his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who + had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present + opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from + his master on false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his + passage to Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful + wretch, for thus requiting his master’s indulgence. What would <i>they</i> + have done under similar circumstances? + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they + chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations + of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he’ll never get + him again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon + Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in + the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of seeing those little niggers + march about the streets.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXVII. New Destination For The Children. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Flint proclaimed her intention of informing Mrs. Sands who was the + father of my children. She likewise proposed to tell her what an artful + devil I was; that I had made a great deal of trouble in her family; that + when Mr. Sands was at the north, she didn’t doubt I had followed him in + disguise, and persuaded William to run away. She had some reason to + entertain such an idea; for I had written from the north, from time to + time, and I dated my letters from various places. Many of them fell into + Dr. Flint’s hands, as I expected they would; and he must have come to the + conclusion that I travelled about a good deal. He kept a close watch over + my children, thinking they would eventually lead to my detection. + </p> + <p> + A new and unexpected trial was in store for me. One day, when Mr. Sands + and his wife were walking in the street, they met Benny. The lady took a + fancy to him, and exclaimed, “What a pretty little negro! Whom does he + belong to?” + </p> + <p> + Benny did not hear the answer; but he came home very indignant with the + stranger lady, because she had called him a negro. A few days afterwards, + Mr. Sands called on my grandmother, and told her he wanted her to take the + children to his house. He said he had informed his wife of his relation to + them, and told her they were motherless; and she wanted to see them. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, my grandmother came and asked what I would do. The + question seemed a mockery. What <i>could</i> I do? They were Mr. Sands’s + slaves, and their mother was a slave, whom he had represented to be dead. + Perhaps he thought I was. I was too much pained and puzzled to come to any + decision; and the children were carried without my knowledge. Mrs. Sands + had a sister from Illinois staying with her. This lady, who had no + children of her own, was so much pleased with Ellen, that she offered to + adopt her, and bring her up as she would a daughter. Mrs. Sands wanted to + take Benjamin. When grandmother reported this to me, I was tried almost + beyond endurance. Was this all I was to gain by what I had suffered for + the sake of having my children free? True, the prospect <i>seemed</i> + fair; but I knew too well how lightly slaveholders held such “parental + relations.” If pecuniary troubles should come, or if the new wife required + more money than could conveniently be spared, my children might be thought + of as a convenient means of raising funds. I had no trust in thee, O + Slavery! Never should I know peace till my children were emancipated with + all due formalities of law. + </p> + <p> + I was too proud to ask Mr. Sands to do any thing for my own benefit; but I + could bring myself to become a supplicant for my children. I resolved to + remind him of the promise he had made me, and to throw myself upon his + honor for the performance of it. I persuaded my grandmother to go to him, + and tell him I was not dead, and that I earnestly entreated him to keep + the promise he had made me; that I had heard of the recent proposals + concerning my children, and did not feel easy to accept them; that he had + promised to emancipate them, and it was time for him to redeem his pledge. + I knew there was some risk in thus betraying that I was in the vicinity; + but what will not a mother do for her children? He received the message + with surprise, and said, “The children are free. I have never intended to + claim them as slaves. Linda may decide their fate. In my opinion, they had + better be sent to the north. I don’t think they are quite safe here. Dr. + Flint boasts that they are still in his power. He says they were his + daughter’s property, and as she was not of age when they were sold, the + contract is not legally binding.” + </p> + <p> + So, then, after all I had endured for their sakes, my poor children were + between two fires; between my old master and their new master! And I was + powerless. There was no protecting arm of the law for me to invoke. Mr. + Sands proposed that Ellen should go, for the present, to some of his + relatives, who had removed to Brooklyn, Long Island. It was promised that + she should be well taken care of, and sent to school. I consented to it, + as the best arrangement I could make for her. My grandmother, of course, + negotiated it all; and Mrs. Sands knew of no other person in the + transaction. She proposed that they should take Ellen with them to + Washington, and keep her till they had a good chance of sending her, with + friends, to Brooklyn. She had an infant daughter. I had had a glimpse of + it, as the nurse passed with it in her arms. It was not a pleasant thought + to me, that the bondwoman’s child should tend her free-born sister; but + there was no alternative. Ellen was made ready for the journey. O, how it + tried my heart to send her away, so young, alone, among strangers! Without + a mother’s love to shelter her from the storms of life; almost without + memory of a mother! I doubted whether she and Benny would have for me the + natural affection that children feel for a parent. I thought to myself + that I might perhaps never see my daughter again, and I had a great desire + that she should look upon me, before she went, that she might take my + image with her in her memory. It seemed to me cruel to have her brought to + my dungeon. It was sorrow enough for her young heart to know that her + mother was a victim of slavery, without seeing the wretched hiding-place + to which it had driven her. I begged permission to pass the last night in + one of the open chambers, with my little girl. They thought I was crazy to + think of trusting such a young child with my perilous secret. I told them + I had watched her character, and I felt sure she would not betray me; that + I was determined to have an interview, and if they would not facilitate + it, I would take my own way to obtain it. They remonstrated against the + rashness of such a proceeding; but finding they could not change my + purpose, they yielded. I slipped through the trap-door into the storeroom, + and my uncle kept watch at the gate, while I passed into the piazza and + went up stairs, to the room I used to occupy. It was more than five years + since I had seen it; and how the memories crowded on me! There I had taken + shelter when my mistress drove me from her house; there came my old + tyrant, to mock, insult, and curse me; there my children were first laid + in my arms; there I had watched over them, each day with a deeper and + sadder love; there I had knelt to God, in anguish of heart, to forgive the + wrong I had done. How vividly it all came back! And after this long, + gloomy interval, I stood there such a wreck! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these meditations, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The + door opened, and my uncle Phillip came in, leading Ellen by the hand. I + put my arms round her, and said, “Ellen, my dear child, I am your mother.” + She drew back a little, and looked at me; then, with sweet confidence, she + laid her cheek against mine, and I folded her to the heart that had been + so long desolated. She was the first to speak. Raising her head, she said, + inquiringly, “You really <i>are</i> my mother?” I told her I really was; + that during all the long time she had not seen me, I had loved her most + tenderly; and that now she was going away, I wanted to see her and talk + with her, that she might remember me. With a sob in her voice, she said, + “I’m glad you’ve come to see me; but why didn’t you ever come before? + Benny and I have wanted so much to see you! He remembers you, and + sometimes he tells me about you. Why didn’t you come home when Dr. Flint + went to bring you?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I couldn’t come before, dear. But now that I am with you, + tell me whether you like to go away.” “I don’t know,” said she, crying. + “Grandmother says I ought not to cry; that I am going to a good place, + where I can learn to read and write, and that by and by I can write her a + letter. But I shan’t have Benny, or grandmother, or uncle Phillip, or any + body to love me. Can’t you go with me? O, <i>do</i> go, dear mother!” + </p> + <p> + I told her I couldn’t go now; but sometime I would come to her, and then + she and Benny and I would live together, and have happy times. She wanted + to run and bring Benny to see me now. I told her he was going to the + north, before long, with uncle Phillip, and then I would come to see him + before he went away. I asked if she would like to have me stay all night + and sleep with her. “O, yes,” she replied. Then, turning to her uncle, she + said, pleadingly, “<i>May</i> I stay? Please, uncle! She is my own + mother.” He laid his hand on her head, and said, solemnly, “Ellen, this is + the secret you have promised grandmother never to tell. If you ever speak + of it to any body, they will never let you see your grandmother again, and + your mother can never come to Brooklyn.” “Uncle,” she replied, “I will + never tell.” He told her she might stay with me; and when he had gone, I + took her in my arms and told her I was a slave, and that was the reason + she must never say she had seen me. I exhorted her to be a good child, to + try to please the people where she was going, and that God would raise her + up friends. I told her to say her prayers, and remember always to pray for + her poor mother, and that God would permit us to meet again. She wept, and + I did not check her tears. Perhaps she would never again have a chance to + pour her tears into a mother’s bosom. All night she nestled in my arms, + and I had no inclination to slumber. The moments were too precious to lose + any of them. Once, when I thought she was asleep, I kissed her forehead + softly, and she said, “I am not asleep, dear mother.” + </p> + <p> + Before dawn they came to take me back to my den. I drew aside the window + curtain, to take a last look of my child. The moonlight shone on her face, + and I bent over her, as I had done years before, that wretched night when + I ran away. I hugged her close to my throbbing heart; and tears, too sad + for such young eyes to shed, flowed down her cheeks, as she gave her last + kiss, and whispered in my ear, “Mother, I will never tell.” And she never + did. + </p> + <p> + When I got back to my den, I threw myself on the bed and wept there alone + in the darkness. It seemed as if my heart would burst. When the time for + Ellen’s departure drew nigh, I could hear neighbors and friends saying to + her, “Good by, Ellen. I hope your poor mother will find you out. <i>Won’t</i> + you be glad to see her!” She replied, “Yes, ma’am;” and they little + dreamed of the weighty secret that weighed down her young heart. She was + an affectionate child, but naturally very reserved, except with those she + loved, and I felt secure that my secret would be safe with her. I heard + the gate close after her, with such feelings as only a slave mother can + experience. During the day my meditations were very sad. Sometimes I + feared I had been very selfish not to give up all claim to her, and let + her go to Illinois, to be adopted by Mrs. Sands’s sister. It was my + experience of slavery that decided me against it. I feared that + circumstances might arise that would cause her to be sent back. I felt + confident that I should go to New York myself; and then I should be able + to watch over her, and in some degree protect her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint’s family knew nothing of the proposed arrangement till after + Ellen was gone, and the news displeased them greatly. Mrs. Flint called on + Mrs. Sands’s sister to inquire into the matter. She expressed her opinion + very freely as to the respect Mr. Sands showed for his wife, and for his + own character, in acknowledging those “young niggers.” And as for sending + Ellen away, she pronounced it to be just as much stealing as it would be + for him to come and take a piece of furniture out of her parlor. She said + her daughter was not of age to sign the bill of sale, and the children + were her property; and when she became of age, or was married, she could + take them, wherever she could lay hands on them. + </p> + <p> + Miss Emily Flint, the little girl to whom I had been bequeathed, was now + in her sixteenth year. Her mother considered it all right and honorable + for her, or her future husband, to steal my children; but she did not + understand how any body could hold up their heads in respectable society, + after they had purchased their own children, as Mr. Sands had done. Dr. + Flint said very little. Perhaps he thought that Benny would be less likely + to be sent away if he kept quiet. One of my letters, that fell into his + hands, was dated from Canada; and he seldom spoke of me now. This state of + things enabled me to slip down into the storeroom more frequently, where I + could stand upright, and move my limbs more freely. + </p> + <p> + Days, weeks, and months passed, and there came no news of Ellen. I sent a + letter to Brooklyn, written in my grandmother’s name, to inquire whether + she had arrived there. Answer was returned that she had not. I wrote to + her in Washington; but no notice was taken of it. There was one person + there, who ought to have had some sympathy with the anxiety of the child’s + friends at home; but the links of such relations as he had formed with me, + are easily broken and cast away as rubbish. Yet how protectingly and + persuasively he once talked to the poor, helpless slave girl! And how + entirely I trusted him! But now suspicions darkened my mind. Was my child + dead, or had they deceived me, and sold her? + </p> + <p> + If the secret memoirs of many members of Congress should be published, + curious details would be unfolded. I once saw a letter from a member of + Congress to a slave, who was the mother of six of his children. He wrote + to request that she would send her children away from the great house + before his return, as he expected to be accompanied by friends. The woman + could not read, and was obliged to employ another to read the letter. The + existence of the colored children did not trouble this gentleman, it was + only the fear that friends might recognize in their features a resemblance + to him. + </p> + <p> + At the end of six months, a letter came to my grandmother, from Brooklyn. + It was written by a young lady in the family, and announced that Ellen had + just arrived. It contained the following message from her: “I do try to do + just as you told me to, and I pray for you every night and morning.” I + understood that these words were meant for me; and they were a balsam to + my heart. The writer closed her letter by saying, “Ellen is a nice little + girl, and we shall like to have her with us. My cousin, Mr. Sands, has + given her to me, to be my little waiting-maid. I shall send her to school, + and I hope some day she will write to you herself.” This letter perplexed + and troubled me. Had my child’s father merely placed her there till she + was old enough to support herself? Or had he given her to his cousin, as a + piece of property? If the last idea was correct, his cousin might return + to the south at any time, and hold Ellen as a slave. I tried to put away + from me the painful thought that such a foul wrong could have been done to + us. I said to myself, “Surely there must be <i>some</i> justice in man;” + then I remembered, with a sigh, how slavery perverted all the natural + feelings of the human heart. It gave me a pang to look on my light-hearted + boy. He believed himself free; and to have him brought under the yoke of + slavery, would be more than I could bear. How I longed to have him safely + out of the reach of its power! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXVIII. Aunt Nancy. + </h2> + <p> + I have mentioned my greataunt, who was a slave in Dr. Flint’s family, and + who had been my refuge during the shameful persecutions I suffered from + him. This aunt had been married at twenty years of age; that is, as far as + slaves <i>can</i> marry. She had the consent of her master and mistress, + and a clergyman performed the ceremony. But it was a mere form, without + any legal value. Her master or mistress could annul it any day they + pleased. She had always slept on the floor in the entry, near Mrs. Flint’s + chamber door, that she might be within call. When she was married, she was + told she might have the use of a small room in an outhouse. Her mother and + her husband furnished it. He was a seafaring man, and was allowed to sleep + there when he was at home. But on the wedding evening, the bride was + ordered to her old post on the entry floor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint, at that time, had no children; but she was expecting to be a + mother, and if she should want a drink of water in the night, what could + she do without her slave to bring it? So my aunt was compelled to lie at + her door, until one midnight she was forced to leave, to give premature + birth to a child. In a fortnight she was required to resume her place on + the entry floor, because Mrs. Flint’s babe needed her attentions. She kept + her station there through summer and winter, until she had given premature + birth to six children; and all the while she was employed as night-nurse + to Mrs. Flint’s children. Finally, toiling all day, and being deprived of + rest at night, completely broke down her constitution, and Dr. Flint + declared it was impossible she could ever become the mother of a living + child. The fear of losing so valuable a servant by death, now induced them + to allow her to sleep in her little room in the outhouse, except when + there was sickness in the family. She afterwards had two feeble babes, one + of whom died in a few days, and the other in four weeks. I well remember + her patient sorrow as she held the last dead baby in her arms. “I wish it + could have lived,” she said; “it is not the will of God that any of my + children should live. But I will try to be fit to meet their little + spirits in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Nancy was housekeeper and waiting-maid in Dr. Flint’s family. Indeed, + she was the <i>factotum</i> of the household. Nothing went on well without + her. She was my mother’s twin sister, and, as far as was in her power, she + supplied a mother’s place to us orphans. I slept with her all the time I + lived in my old master’s house, and the bond between us was very strong. + When my friends tried to discourage me from running away; she always + encouraged me. When they thought I had better return and ask my master’s + pardon, because there was no possibility of escape, she sent me word never + to yield. She said if I persevered I might, perhaps, gain the freedom of + my children; and even if I perished in doing it, that was better than to + leave them to groan under the same persecutions that had blighted my own + life. After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she + could, to bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I + kneel down to listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a + crack! “I am old, and have not long to live,” she used to say; “and I + could die happy if I could only see you and the children free. You must + pray to God, Linda, as I do for you, that he will lead you out of this + darkness.” I would beg her not to worry herself on my account; that there + was an end of all suffering sooner or later, and that whether I lived in + chains or in freedom, I should always remember her as the good friend who + had been the comfort of my life. A word from her always strengthened me; + and not me only. The whole family relied upon her judgement, and were + guided by her advice. I had been in my cell six years when my grandmother + was summoned to the bedside of this, her last remaining daughter. She was + very ill, and they said she would die. Grandmother had not entered Dr. + Flint’s house for several years. They had treated her cruelly, but she + thought nothing of that now. She was grateful for permission to watch by + the death-bed of her child. They had always been devoted to each other; + and now they sat looking into each other’s eyes, longing to speak of the + secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of both. My aunt had been + stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and the last day she was + speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance, she told her mother + not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she would try to hold up + her hand; to let her know that all was well with her. Even the + hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying woman try + to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His eyes + moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful servant, + and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took to her + bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone with the + dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always been a + great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. “Martha,” said + he, “aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I hope + you will be kind to him, for her sake.” She replied, “Your wife was my + foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you + little know me if you think I can feel any thing but good will for her + children.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish the past could be forgotten, and that we might never think of it,” + said he; “and that Linda would come to supply her aunt’s place. She would + be worth more to us than all the money that could be paid for her. I wish + it for your sake also, Martha. Now that Nancy is taken away from you, she + would be a great comfort to your old age.” He knew he was touching a + tender chord. Almost choking with grief, my grandmother replied, “It was + not I that drove Linda away. My grandchildren are gone; and of my nine + children only one is left. God help me!” + </p> + <p> + To me, the death of this kind relative was an inexpressible sorrow. I knew + that she had been slowly murdered; and I felt that my troubles had helped + to finish the work. After I heard of her illness, I listened constantly to + hear what news was brought from the great house; and the thought that I + could not go to her made me utterly miserable. At last, as uncle Phillip + came into the house, I heard some one inquire, “How is she?” and he + answered, “She is dead.” My little cell seemed whirling round, and I knew + nothing more till I opened my eyes and found uncle Phillip bending over + me. I had no need to ask any questions. He whispered, “Linda, she died + happy.” I could not weep. My fixed gaze troubled him. “Don’t look <i>so</i>” + he said. “Don’t add to my poor mother’s trouble. Remember how much she has + to bear, and that we ought to do all we can to comfort her.” Ah, yes, that + blessed old grandmother, who for seventy-three years had borne the pelting + storms of a slavemother’s life. She did indeed need consolation! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Flint had rendered her poor foster-sister childless, apparently + without any compunction; and with cruel selfishness had ruined her health + by years of incessant, unrequited toil, and broken rest. But now she + became very sentimental. I suppose she thought it would be a beautiful + illustration of the attachment existing between slaveholder and slave, if + the body of her old worn-out servant was buried at her feet. She sent for + the clergyman and asked if he had any objection to burying aunt Nancy in + the doctor’s family burial-place. No colored person had ever been allowed + interment in the white people’s burying-ground, and the minister knew that + all the deceased of your family reposed together in the old graveyard of + the slaves. He therefore replied, “I have no objection to complying with + your wish; but perhaps aunt Nancy’s <i>mother</i> may have some choice as + to where her remains shall be deposited.” + </p> + <p> + It had never occurred to Mrs. Flint that slaves could have any feelings. + When my grandmother was consulted, she at once said she wanted Nancy to + lie with all the rest of her family, and where her own old body would be + buried. Mrs. Flint graciously complied with her wish, though she said it + was painful to her to have Nancy buried away from <i>her</i>. She might + have added with touching pathos, “I was so long <i>used</i> to sleep with + her lying near me, on the entry floor.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Phillip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; + and slaveholders are always ready to grant <i>such</i> favors to slaves + and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly + respectable. She was buried on the Sabbath, and Mrs. Flint’s minister read + the funeral service. There was a large concourse of colored people, bond + and free, and a few white persons who had always been friendly to our + family. Dr. Flint’s carriage was in the procession; and when the body was + deposited in its humble resting place, the mistress dropped a tear, and + returned to her carriage, probably thinking she had performed her duty + nobly. + </p> + <p> + It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. Northern + travellers, passing through the place, might have described this tribute + of respect to the humble dead as a beautiful feature in the “patriarchal + institution;” a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and + their servants; and tender-hearted Mrs. Flint would have confirmed this + impression, with handkerchief at her eyes. <i>We</i> could have told them + a different story. We could have given them a chapter of wrongs and + sufferings, that would have touched their hearts, if they <i>had</i> any + hearts to feel for the colored people. We could have told them how the + poor old slavemother had toiled, year after year, to earn eight hundred + dollars to buy her son Phillip’s right to his own earnings; and how that + same Phillip paid the expenses of the funeral, which they regarded as + doing so much credit to the master. We could also have told them of a + poor, blighted young creature, shut up in a living grave for years, to + avoid the tortures that would be inflicted on her, if she ventured to come + out and look on the face of her departed friend. + </p> + <p> + All this, and much more, I thought of, as I sat at my loophole, waiting + for the family to return from the grave; sometimes weeping, sometimes + falling asleep, dreaming strange dreams of the dead and the living. + </p> + <p> + It was sad to witness the grief of my bereaved grandmother. She had always + been strong to bear, and now, as ever, religious faith supported her. But + her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving + deep traces on her withered face. She had four places to knock for me to + come to the trap-door, and each place had a different meaning. She now came + oftener than she had done, and talked to me of her dead daughter, while + tears trickled slowly down her furrowed cheeks. I said all I could to + comfort her; but it was a sad reflection, that instead of being able to + help her, I was a constant source of anxiety and trouble. The poor old + back was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXIX. Preparations For Escape. + </h2> + <p> + I hardly expect that the reader will credit me, when I affirm that I lived + in that little dismal hole, almost deprived of light and air, and with no + space to move my limbs, for nearly seven years. But it is a fact; and to + me a sad one, even now; for my body still suffers from the effects of that + long imprisonment, to say nothing of my soul. Members of my family, now + living in New York and Boston, can testify to the truth of what I say. + </p> + <p> + Countless were the nights that I sat late at the little loophole scarcely + large enough to give me a glimpse of one twinkling star. There, heard the + patrols and slave-hunters conferring together about the capture of + runaways, well knowing how rejoiced they would be to catch me. + </p> + <p> + Season after season, year after year, I peeped at my children’s faces, and + heard their sweet voices, with a heart yearning all the while to say, + “Your mother is here.” Sometimes it appeared to me as if ages had rolled + away since I entered upon that gloomy, monotonous existence. At times, I + was stupefied and listless; at other times I became very impatient to know + when these dark years would end, and I should again be allowed to feel the + sunshine, and breathe the pure air. + </p> + <p> + After Ellen left us, this feeling increased. Mr. Sands had agreed that + Benny might go to the north whenever his uncle Phillip could go with him; + and I was anxious to be there also, to watch over my children, and protect + them so far as I was able. Moreover, I was likely to be drowned out of my + den, if I remained much longer; for the slight roof was getting badly out + of repair, and uncle Phillip was afraid to remove the shingles, lest some + one should get a glimpse of me. When storms occurred in the night, they + spread mats and bits of carpet, which in the morning appeared to have been + laid out to dry; but to cover the roof in the daytime might have attracted + attention. Consequently, my clothes and bedding were often drenched; a + process by which the pains and aches in my cramped and stiffened limbs + were greatly increased. I revolved various plans of escape in my mind, + which I sometimes imparted to my grandmother, when she came to whisper + with me at the trap-door. The kind-hearted old woman had an intense + sympathy for runaways. She had known too much of the cruelties inflicted + on those who were captured. Her memory always flew back at once to the + sufferings of her bright and handsome son, Benjamin, the youngest and + dearest of her flock. So, whenever I alluded to the subject, she would + groan out, “O, don’t think of it, child. You’ll break my heart.” I had no + good old aunt Nancy now to encourage me; but my brother William and my + children were continually beckoning me to the north. + </p> + <p> + And now I must go back a few months in my story. I have stated that the + first of January was the time for selling slaves, or leasing them out to + new masters. If time were counted by heart-throbs, the poor slaves might + reckon years of suffering during that festival so joyous to the free. On + the New Year’s day preceding my aunt’s death, one of my friends, named + Fanny, was to be sold at auction, to pay her master’s debts. My thoughts + were with her during all the day, and at night I anxiously inquired what + had been her fate. I was told that she had been sold to one master, and + her four little girls to another master, far distant; that she had escaped + from her purchaser, and was not to be found. Her mother was the old Aggie + I have spoken of. She lived in a small tenement belonging to my + grandmother, and built on the same lot with her own house. Her dwelling + was searched and watched, and that brought the patrols so near me that I + was obliged to keep very close in my den. The hunters were somehow eluded; + and not long afterwards Benny accidentally caught sight of Fanny in her + mother’s hut. He told his grandmother, who charged him never to speak of + it, explaining to him the frightful consequences; and he never betrayed + the trust. Aggie little dreamed that my grandmother knew where her + daughter was concealed, and that the stooping form of her old neighbor was + bending under a similar burden of anxiety and fear; but these dangerous + secrets deepened the sympathy between the two old persecuted mothers. + </p> + <p> + My friend Fanny and I remained many weeks hidden within call of each + other; but she was unconscious of the fact. I longed to have her share my + den, which seemed a more secure retreat than her own; but I had brought so + much trouble on my grandmother, that it seemed wrong to ask her to incur + greater risks. My restlessness increased. I had lived too long in bodily + pain and anguish of spirit. Always I was in dread that by some accident, + or some contrivance, slavery would succeed in snatching my children from + me. This thought drove me nearly frantic, and I determined to steer for + the North Star at all hazards. At this crisis, Providence opened an + unexpected way for me to escape. My friend Peter came one evening, and + asked to speak with me. “Your day has come, Linda,” said he. “I have found + a chance for you to go to the Free States. You have a fortnight to + decide.” The news seemed too good to be true; but Peter explained his + arrangements, and told me all that was necessary was for me to say I would + go. I was going to answer him with a joyful yes, when the thought of Benny + came to my mind. I told him the temptation was exceedingly strong, but I + was terribly afraid of Dr. Flint’s alleged power over my child, and that I + could not go and leave him behind. Peter remonstrated earnestly. He said + such a good chance might never occur again; that Benny was free, and could + be sent to me; and that for the sake of my children’s welfare I ought not + to hesitate a moment. I told him I would consult with uncle Phillip. My + uncle rejoiced in the plan, and bade me go by all means. He promised, if + his life was spared, that he would either bring or send my son to me as + soon as I reached a place of safety. I resolved to go, but thought nothing + had better be said to my grandmother till very near the time of departure. + But my uncle thought she would feel it more keenly if I left here so + suddenly. “I will reason with her,” said he, “and convince her how + necessary it is, not only for your sake, but for hers also. You cannot be + blind to the fact that she is sinking under her burdens.” I was not blind + to it. I knew that my concealment was an ever-present source of anxiety, + and that the older she grew the more nervously fearful she was of + discovery. My uncle talked with her, and finally succeeded in persuading + her that it was absolutely necessary for me to seize the chance so + unexpectedly offered. + </p> + <p> + The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak + frame. The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me. I + made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me. I + resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give + him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting + for him at the north. Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to + whisper words of counsel. She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon + as I arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her. She + said she would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the + sake of having me safe with my children in any part of the world. If she + could only live to know <i>that</i> she could die in peace. I promised the + dear old faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, + and put the letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I + resolved that not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay + rapacious slaveholders for what they called their property. And even if I + had not been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, + common humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, + at the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she + was trembling on the brink of the grave. + </p> + <p> + I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further + particulars. I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained + several days. Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder + committed on a fugitive slave, named James. Charity, the mother of this + unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours. I have told + the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the + neighboring slaveholders. My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about + runaways, was terribly frightened. She felt sure that a similar fate + awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise. She sobbed, and + groaned, and entreated me not to go. Her excessive fear was somewhat + contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony. I was + grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project. + </p> + <p> + When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and + vexed. He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long + time before I had such another chance to throw away. I told him it need + not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be + glad enough to take the place that had been provided for me. I told him + about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his + back upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to + help her. Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret. + She was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were + made for her to go on board the vessel the next night. They both supposed + that I had long been at the north, therefore my name was not mentioned in + the transaction. Fanny was carried on board at the appointed time, and + stowed away in a very small cabin. This accommodation had been purchased + at a price that would pay for a voyage to England. But when one proposes + to go to fine old England, they stop to calculate whether they can afford + the cost of the pleasure; while in making a bargain to escape from + slavery, the trembling victim is ready to say, “take all I have, only + don’t betray me!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning I peeped through my loophole, and saw that it was dark + and cloudy. At night I received news that the wind was ahead, and the + vessel had not sailed. I was exceedingly anxious about Fanny, and Peter + too, who was running a tremendous risk at my instigation. Next day the + wind and weather remained the same. Poor Fanny had been half dead with + fright when they carried her on board, and I could readily imagine how she + must be suffering now. Grandmother came often to my den, to say how + thankful she was I did not go. On the third morning she rapped for me to + come down to the storeroom. The poor old sufferer was breaking down under + her weight of trouble. She was easily flurried now. I found her in a + nervous, excited state, but I was not aware that she had forgotten to lock + the door behind her, as usual. She was exceedingly worried about the + detention of the vessel. She was afraid all would be discovered, and then + Fanny, and Peter, and I, would all be tortured to death, and Phillip would + be utterly ruined, and her house would be torn down. Poor Peter! If he + should die such a horrible death as the poor slave James had lately done, + and all for his kindness in trying to help me, how dreadful it would be + for us all! Alas, the thought was familiar to me, and had sent many a + sharp pang through my heart. I tried to suppress my own anxiety, and speak + soothingly to her. She brought in some allusion to aunt Nancy, the dear + daughter she had recently buried, and then she lost all control of + herself. As she stood there, trembling and sobbing, a voice from the + piazza called out, “Whar is you, aunt Marthy?” Grandmother was startled, + and in her agitation opened the door, without thinking of me. In stepped + Jenny, the mischievous housemaid, who had tried to enter my room, when I + was concealed in the house of my white benefactress. “I’s bin huntin ebery + whar for you, aunt Marthy,” said she. “My missis wants you to send her + some crackers.” I had slunk down behind a barrel, which entirely screened + me, but I imagined that Jenny was looking directly at the spot, and my + heart beat violently. My grandmother immediately thought what she had + done, and went out quickly with Jenny to count the crackers locking the + door after her. She returned to me, in a few minutes, the perfect picture + of despair. “Poor child!” she exclaimed, “my carelessness has ruined you. + The boat ain’t gone yet. Get ready immediately, and go with Fanny. I ain’t + got another word to say against it now; for there’s no telling what may + happen this day.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Phillip was sent for, and he agreed with his mother in thinking that + Jenny would inform Dr. Flint in less than twenty-four hours. He advised + getting me on board the boat, if possible; if not, I had better keep very + still in my den, where they could not find me without tearing the house + down. He said it would not do for him to move in the matter, because + suspicion would be immediately excited; but he promised to communicate + with Peter. I felt reluctant to apply to him again, having implicated him + too much already; but there seemed to be no alternative. Vexed as Peter + had been by my indecision, he was true to his generous nature, and said at + once that he would do his best to help me, trusting I should show myself a + stronger woman this time. + </p> + <p> + He immediately proceeded to the wharf, and found that the wind had + shifted, and the vessel was slowly beating down stream. On some pretext of + urgent necessity, he offered two boatmen a dollar apiece to catch up with + her. He was of lighter complexion than the boatmen he hired, and when the + captain saw them coming so rapidly, he thought officers were pursuing his + vessel in search of the runaway slave he had on board. They hoisted sails, + but the boat gained upon them, and the indefatigable Peter sprang on + board. + </p> + <p> + The captain at once recognized him. Peter asked him to go below, to speak + about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain + replied, “Why, the woman’s here already; and I’ve put her where you or the + devil would have a tough job to find her.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is another woman I want to bring,” said Peter. “<i>She</i> is in + great distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if + you’ll stop and take her.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s her name?” inquired the captain. “Linda,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the name of the woman already here,” rejoined the captain. “By + George! I believe you mean to betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “O!” exclaimed Peter, “God knows I wouldn’t harm a hair of your head. I am + too grateful to you. But there really <i>is</i> another woman in great + danger. Do have the humanity to stop and take her!” + </p> + <p> + After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any + where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself + Johnson. “Linda is a common name,” said Peter, “and the woman I want to + bring is Linda Brent.” + </p> + <p> + The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being + handsomely paid for his detention. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if + Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it; + and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint’s family + till evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. + I afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of + it, and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to + betray a suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver. + </p> + <p> + I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The + intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him + for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every + day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to + venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up + together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating + interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a + little while, he said, “Mother, I’m glad you’re going away. I wish I could + go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been <i>so</i> afraid they + would come and catch you!” I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he + had found it out. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went + away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed. I don’t know what + made me think it was you, but I did think so. I missed Ellen, the night + before she went away; and grandmother brought her back into the room in + the night; and I thought maybe she’d been to see <i>you</i>, before she + went, for I heard grandmother whisper to her, ‘Now go to sleep; and + remember never to tell.’” + </p> + <p> + I asked him if he ever mentioned his suspicions to his sister. He said he + never did; but after he heard the cough, if he saw her playing with other + children on that side of the house, he always tried to coax her round to + the other side, for fear they would hear me cough, too. He said he had + kept a close lookout for Dr. Flint, and if he saw him speak to a + constable, or a patrol, he always told grandmother. I now recollected that + I had seen him manifest uneasiness, when people were on that side of the + house, and I had at the time been puzzled to conjecture a motive for his + actions. Such prudence may seem extraordinary in a boy of twelve years, + but slaves, being surrounded by mysteries, deceptions, and dangers, early + learn to be suspicious and watchful, and prematurely cautious and cunning. + He had never asked a question of grandmother, or uncle Phillip, and I had + often heard him chime in with other children, when they spoke of my being + at the north. + </p> + <p> + I told him I was now really going to the Free States, and if he was a + good, honest boy, and a loving child to his dear old grandmother, the Lord + would bless him, and bring him to me, and we and Ellen would live + together. He began to tell me that grandmother had not eaten any thing all + day. While he was speaking, the door was unlocked, and she came in with a + small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep a + part of it, at least, to pay for Benny’s being sent to the north; but she + insisted, while her tears were falling fast, that I should take the whole. + “You may be sick among strangers,” she said, “and they would send you to + the poorhouse to die.” Ah, that good grandmother! + </p> + <p> + For the last time I went up to my nook. Its desolate appearance no longer + chilled me, for the light of hope had risen in my soul. Yet, even with the + blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt very sad at leaving forever + that old homestead, where I had been sheltered so long by the dear old + grandmother; where I had dreamed my first young dream of love; and where, + after that had faded away, my children came to twine themselves so closely + round my desolate heart. As the hour approached for me to leave, I again + descended to the storeroom. My grandmother and Benny were there. She took + me by the hand, and said, “Linda, let us pray.” We knelt down together, + with my child pressed to my heart, and my other arm round the faithful, + loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has + it ever been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and + protection. It thrilled through my heart, and inspired me with trust in + God. + </p> + <p> + Peter was waiting for me in the street. I was soon by his side, faint in + body, but strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the old place, + though I felt that I should never see it again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXX. Northward Bound. + </h2> + <p> + I never could tell how we reached the wharf. My brain was all of a whirl, + and my limbs tottered under me. At an appointed place we met my uncle + Phillip, who had started before us on a different route, that he might + reach the wharf first, and give us timely warning if there was any danger. + A row-boat was in readiness. As I was about to step in, I felt something + pull me gently, and turning round I saw Benny, looking pale and anxious. + He whispered in my ear, “I’ve been peeping into the doctor’s window, and + he’s at home. Good by, mother. Don’t cry; I’ll come.” He hastened away. I + clasped the hand of my good uncle, to whom I owed so much, and of Peter, + the brave, generous friend who had volunteered to run such terrible risks + to secure my safety. To this day I remember how his bright face beamed + with joy, when he told me he had discovered a safe method for me to + escape. Yet that intelligent, enterprising, noble-hearted man was a + chattel! Liable, by the laws of a country that calls itself civilized, to + be sold with horses and pigs! We parted in silence. Our hearts were all + too full for words! + </p> + <p> + Swiftly the boat glided over the water. After a while, one of the sailors + said, “Don’t be down-hearted, madam. We will take you safely to your + husband, in ——.” At first I could not imagine what he meant; + but I had presence of mind to think that it probably referred to something + the captain had told him; so I thanked him, and said I hoped we should + have pleasant weather. + </p> + <p> + When I entered the vessel the captain came forward to meet me. He was an + elderly man, with a pleasant countenance. He showed me to a little box of + a cabin, where sat my friend Fanny. She started as if she had seen a + spectre. She gazed on me in utter astonishment, and exclaimed, “Linda, can + this be <i>you</i>? or is it your ghost?” When we were locked in each + other’s arms, my overwrought feelings could no longer be restrained. My + sobs reached the ears of the captain, who came and very kindly reminded + us, that for his safety, as well as our own, it would be prudent for us + not to attract any attention. He said that when there was a sail in sight + he wished us to keep below; but at other times, he had no objection to our + being on deck. He assured us that he would keep a good lookout, and if we + acted prudently, he thought we should be in no danger. He had represented + us as women going to meet our husbands in ——. We thanked him, + and promised to observe carefully all the directions he gave us. + </p> + <p> + Fanny and I now talked by ourselves, low and quietly, in our little cabin. + She told me of the suffering she had gone through in making her escape, + and of her terrors while she was concealed in her mother’s house. Above + all, she dwelt on the agony of separation from all her children on that + dreadful auction day. She could scarcely credit me, when I told her of the + place where I had passed nearly seven years. “We have the same sorrows,” + said I. “No,” replied she, “you are going to see your children soon, and + there is no hope that I shall ever even hear from mine.” + </p> + <p> + The vessel was soon under way, but we made slow progress. The wind was + against us, I should not have cared for this, if we had been out of sight + of the town; but until there were miles of water between us and our + enemies, we were filled with constant apprehensions that the constables + would come on board. Neither could I feel quite at ease with the captain + and his men. I was an entire stranger to that class of people, and I had + heard that sailors were rough, and sometimes cruel. We were so completely + in their power, that if they were bad men, our situation would be + dreadful. Now that the captain was paid for our passage, might he not be + tempted to make more money by giving us up to those who claimed us as + property? I was naturally of a confiding disposition, but slavery had made + me suspicious of every body. Fanny did not share my distrust of the + captain or his men. She said she was afraid at first, but she had been on + board three days while the vessel lay in the dock, and nobody had betrayed + her, or treated her otherwise than kindly. + </p> + <p> + The captain soon came to advise us to go on deck for fresh air. His + friendly and respectful manner, combined with Fanny’s testimony, reassured + me, and we went with him. He placed us in a comfortable seat, and + occasionally entered into conversation. He told us he was a Southerner by + birth, and had spent the greater part of his life in the Slave States, and + that he had recently lost a brother who traded in slaves. “But,” said he, + “it is a pitiable and degrading business, and I always felt ashamed to + acknowledge my brother in connection with it.” As we passed Snaky Swamp, + he pointed to it, and said, “There is a slave territory that defies all + the laws.” I thought of the terrible days I had spent there, and though it + was not called Dismal Swamp, it made me feel very dismal as I looked at + it. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that night. The balmy air of spring was so + refreshing! And how shall I describe my sensations when we were fairly + sailing on Chesapeake Bay? O, the beautiful sunshine! the exhilarating + breeze! And I could enjoy them without fear or restraint. I had never + realized what grand things air and sunlight are till I had been deprived + of them. + </p> + <p> + Ten days after we left land we were approaching Philadelphia. The captain + said we should arrive there in the night, but he thought we had better + wait till morning, and go on shore in broad daylight, as the best way to + avoid suspicion. + </p> + <p> + I replied, “You know best. But will you stay on board and protect us?” + </p> + <p> + He saw that I was suspicious, and he said he was sorry, now that he had + brought us to the end of our voyage, to find I had so little confidence in + him. Ah, if he had ever been a slave he would have known how difficult it + was to trust a white man. He assured us that we might sleep through the + night without fear; that he would take care we were not left unprotected. + Be it said to the honor of this captain, Southerner as he was, that if + Fanny and I had been white ladies, and our passage lawfully engaged, he + could not have treated us more respectfully. My intelligent friend, Peter, + had rightly estimated the character of the man to whose honor he had + intrusted us. The next morning I was on deck as soon as the day dawned. I + called Fanny to see the sun rise, for the first time in our lives, on free + soil; for such I <i>then</i> believed it to be. We watched the reddening + sky, and saw the great orb come up slowly out of the water, as it seemed. + Soon the waves began to sparkle, and every thing caught the beautiful + glow. Before us lay the city of strangers. We looked at each other, and + the eyes of both were moistened with tears. We had escaped from slavery, + and we supposed ourselves to be safe from the hunters. But we were alone + in the world, and we had left dear ties behind us; ties cruelly sundered + by the demon Slavery. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXI. Incidents In Philadelphia. + </h2> + <p> + I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at the north. I trusted + we should find some of them. Meantime, we would take it for granted that + all were friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out the kind + captain, thanked him for his attentions, and told him I should never cease + to be grateful for the service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to + the friends I had left at home, and he promised to deliver it. We were + placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were landed on a wood + wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round, the friendly captain + touched me on the shoulder, and said, “There is a respectable-looking + colored man behind you. I will speak to him about the New York trains, and + tell him you wish to go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked him to + direct me to some shops where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and + said he would talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste + I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with + salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of the + great city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some double + veils and gloves for Fanny and myself. The shopman told me they were so + many levies. I had never heard the word before, but I did not tell him so. + I thought if he knew I was a stranger he might ask me where I came from. I + gave him a gold piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it, and + found out how much a levy was. I made my way back to the wharf, where the + captain introduced me to the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, + minister of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as if I had been an old + friend. He told us we were too late for the morning cars to New York, and + must wait until the evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home + with him, assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and + for my friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked + him for so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be detained, + I should like to hunt up some people who formerly went from our part of + the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine with him, and then he + would assist me in finding my friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. + I shook their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had all been kind + to us, and they had rendered us a greater service than they could possibly + conceive of. + </p> + <p> + I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact with so many people + in the streets. It seemed as if those who passed looked at us with an + expression of curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by sitting + on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought they could not easily decide + to what nation I belonged. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without asking any questions. I + was tired, and her friendly manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! + I was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts, before I received + her sympathy. She was surrounded by her husband and children, in a home + made sacred by protecting laws. I thought of my own children, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken + of. They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in + looking on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we retracted our + steps through streets delightfully clean. On the way, Mr. Durham observed + that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was + surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman. He + was approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask + about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would + he think of me? I told him I had two children, one in New York the other + at the south. He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some + of the most important events of my life. It was painful for me to do it; + but I would not deceive him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I + thought he ought to know how far I was worthy of it. “Excuse me, if I have + tried your feelings,” said he. “I did not question you from idle + curiosity. I wanted to understand your situation, in order to know whether + I could be of any service to you, or your little girl. Your + straightforward answers do you credit; but don’t answer every body so + openly. It might give some heartless people a pretext for treating you + with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + That word <i>contempt</i> burned me like coals of fire. I replied, “God + alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am + permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live + in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.” + </p> + <p> + “I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your trust in God, and be + governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.” + </p> + <p> + When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a + while. The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They + brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In the midst of my + meditations I was startled by a knock at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, + her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery + friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame my dread of + encountering strangers, and went with her. Many questions were asked + concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how + careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings. + How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have + been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale + of human beings. The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my + plans, and to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably + established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham. The + Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New York. The same was + offered to me, but I declined to accept it, telling them that my + grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to the end of my + journey. We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a few days, until some + suitable escort could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition, + for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, and some dread also of + railroads. I had never entered a railroad car in my life, and it seemed to + me quite an important event. + </p> + <p> + That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had never carried to it + before. I verily believed myself to be a free woman. I was wakeful for a + long time, and I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by + fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes. Where I came from, + every body hastened to dress themselves on such occasions. The white + people thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity for + insurrection, and that it was best to be in readiness; and the colored + people were ordered out to labor in extinguishing the flames. There was + but one engine in our town, and colored women and children were often + required to drag it to the river’s edge and fill it. Mrs. Durham’s + daughter slept in the same room with me, and seeing that she slept through + all the din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What’s the matter?” + said she, rubbing her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “They’re screaming fire in the streets, and the bells are ringing,” I + replied. + </p> + <p> + “What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are used to it. We never get up, + without the fire is very near. What good would it do?” + </p> + <p> + I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for us to go and help fill + the engine. I was an ignorant child, just beginning to learn how things + went on in great cities. + </p> + <p> + At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries, radishes, and + various other things. All this was new to me. I dressed myself at an early + hour, and sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life. + Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place. At the breakfast + table, my idea of going out to drag the engine was laughed over, and I + joined in the mirth. + </p> + <p> + I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented among her new friends + that she was in no haste to leave. I was also very happy with my kind + hostess. She had had advantages for education, and was vastly my superior. + Every day, almost every hour, I was adding to my little stock of + knowledge. She took me out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent. + One day she took me to an artist’s room, and showed me the portraits of + some of her children. I had never seen any paintings of colored people + before, and they seemed to be beautiful. + </p> + <p> + At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham’s friends offered to accompany + us to New York the following morning. As I held the hand of my good + hostess in a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband had + repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed he had, but she never made + any allusion to it. I presume it was the delicate silence of womanly + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said, “I am afraid you will have + a disagreeable ride; but I could not procure tickets for the first-class + cars.” + </p> + <p> + Supposing I had not given him money enough, I offered more. “O, no,” said + he, “they could not be had for any money. They don’t allow colored people + to go in the first-class cars.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the Free States. Colored + people were allowed to ride in a filthy box, behind white people, at the + south, but there they were not required to pay for the privilege. It made + me sad to find how the north aped the customs of slavery. + </p> + <p> + We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with windows on each side, too + high for us to look out without standing up. It was crowded with people, + apparently of all nations. There were plenty of beds and cradles, + containing screaming and kicking babies. Every other man had a cigar or + pipe in his mouth, and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The fumes + of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke were sickening to my senses, + and my mind was equally nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs + around me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time there has been + some improvement in these matters. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXII. The Meeting Of Mother And Daughter. + </h2> + <p> + When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed by the crowd of coachmen + calling out, “Carriage, ma’am?” We bargained with one to take us to + Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman stepped up and + said, “I’ll tak’ ye for sax shillings.” The reduction of half the price + was an object to us, and we asked if he could take us right away. “Troth + an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hackmen smiled at each + other, and I inquired whether his conveyance was decent. “Yes, it’s dacent + it is, marm. Devil a bit would I be after takin’ ladies in a cab that was + not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went for the baggage, and soon + reappeared, saying, “This way, if you plase, ladies.” We followed, and + found our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take our seats on + them. We told him that was not what we bargained for, and he must take the + trunks off. He swore they should not be touched till we had paid him six + shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to attract attention, and I + was about to pay him what he required, when a man near by shook his head + for me not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the Irishman, and had + our trunks fastened on a hack. We had been recommended to a boarding-house + in Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny and I separated. The + Anti-Slavery Society provided a home for her, and I afterwards heard of + her in prosperous circumstances. I sent for an old friend from my part of + the country, who had for some time been doing business in New York. He + came immediately. I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked him + to aid me in procuring an interview. + </p> + <p> + I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family that I had just + arrived from the south, because they supposed I had been at the north + seven years. He told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who came + from the same town I did, and I had better go to her house, and have my + daughter meet me there. I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he + agreed to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry, went up Myrtle + Avenue, and stopped at the house he designated. I was just about to enter, + when two girls passed. My friend called my attention to them. I turned, + and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the daughter of a woman who used to + live with my grandmother, but who had left the south years ago. Surprised + and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I threw my arms round her, and + inquired concerning her mother. + </p> + <p> + “You take no notice of the other girl,” said my friend. I turned, and + there stood my Ellen! I pressed her to my heart, then held her away from + me to take a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the two years + since I parted from her. Signs of neglect could be discerned by eyes less + observing than a mother’s. My friend invited us all to go into the house; + but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand, which she would do as + quickly as possible, and go home and ask Mrs. Hobbs to let her come and + see me. It was agreed that I should send for her the next day. Her + companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her mother of my arrival. When I + entered the house, I found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her + return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, “Where is Linda Brent? I + used to know her father and mother.” Soon Sarah came with her mother. So + there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother’s neighborhood. + These friends gathered round me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, + they cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I had got away from my + persecutors and was safe on Long Island. It was a day of great excitement. + How different from the silent days I had passed in my dreary den! + </p> + <p> + The next morning was Sunday. My first waking thoughts were occupied with + the note I was to send to Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That + I had recently come into that vicinity was evident; otherwise I should + have sooner inquired for my daughter. It would not do to let them know I + had just arrived from the south, for that would involve the suspicion of + my having been harbored there, and might bring trouble, if not ruin, on + several people. + </p> + <p> + I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant to resort to + subterfuges. So far as my ways have been crooked, I charge them all upon + slavery. It was that system of violence and wrong which now left me no + alternative but to enact a falsehood. I began my note by stating that I + had recently arrived from Canada, and was very desirous to have my + daughter come to see me. She came and brought a message from Mrs. Hobbs, + inviting me to her house, and assuring me that I need not have any fears. + The conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind at ease. When I + asked if she was well treated, she answered yes; but there was no + heartiness in the tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an + unwillingness to have me troubled on her account. Before she left me, she + asked very earnestly, “Mother, will you take me to live with you?” It made + me sad to think that I could not give her a home till I went to work and + earned the means; and that might take me a long time. When she was placed + with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should be sent to school She + had been there two years, and was now nine years old, and she scarcely + knew her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there were good public + schools in Brooklyn, to which she could have been sent without expense. + </p> + <p> + She staid with me till dark, and I went home with her. I was received in a + friendly manner by the family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a + useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the face, and said, “I + suppose you know that my cousin, Mr. Sands, has <i>given</i> her to my + eldest daughter. She will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows + up.” I did not answer a word. How <i>could</i> she, who knew by experience + the strength of a mother’s love, and who was perfectly aware of the + relation Mr. Sands bore to my children,—how <i>could</i> she look me + in the face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart? + </p> + <p> + I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in such a state of + ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly been wealthy, but he had failed, and + afterwards obtained a subordinate situation in the Custom House. Perhaps + they expected to return to the south some day; and Ellen’s knowledge was + quite sufficient for a slave’s condition. I was impatient to go to work + and earn money, that I might change the uncertain position of my children. + Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to emancipate them. I had also been + deceived about Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin? I felt + that I had none. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my friend’s house in an uneasy state of mind. In order to + protect my children, it was necessary that I should own myself. I called + myself free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure. I sat down + that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr. Flint, asking him to state the + lowest terms on which he would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his + daughter, I wrote to her also, making a similar request. + </p> + <p> + Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful of my dear brother + William. I had made diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him in + Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I found he had gone to New + Bedford. I wrote to that place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling + voyage, and would not return for some months. I went back to New York to + get employment near Ellen. I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave + me no encouragement. He advised me to return and submit myself to my + rightful owners, and then any request I might make would be granted. I + lent this letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present a + copy to my readers. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXIII. A Home Found. + </h2> + <p> + My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly + improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling whenever I + walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that those who + employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my peculiar position, + I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the families I had so + faithfully served. + </p> + <p> + One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her babe, + and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me she + preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to the care of + infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She asked me many + questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a recommendation from + my former employers. She told me she was an English woman, and that was a + pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard they had less prejudice + against color than Americans entertained. It was agreed that we should try + each other for a week. The trial proved satisfactory to both parties, and + I was engaged for a month. + </p> + <p> + The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this + place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and + sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity of + passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so + painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would + have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to save + me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not yet told + her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often sad, and + kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my children, + and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention the constant + feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed for some one to + confide it; but I had been so deceived by white people, that I had lost + all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me, I thought it was + for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family with the distrustful + feelings I had brought with me out of slavery; but ere six months had + passed, I found that the gentle deportment of Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of + her lovely babe were thawing my chilled heart. My narrow mind also began + to expand under the influences of her intelligent conversation, and the + opportunities for reading, which were gladly allowed me whenever I had + leisure from my duties. I gradually became more energetic and more + cheerful. + </p> + <p> + The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children, + often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me a + home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare to + accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge of my + precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that it was + important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by dint of labor + and economy, I could make a home for my children. I was far from feeling + satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not well cared for. She + sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she generally brought a + request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a pair of shoes, or some + article of clothing. This was accompanied by a promise of payment when Mr. + Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became due; but some how or other the + pay-day never came. Thus many dollars of my earnings were expended to keep + my child comfortably clothed. That, however, was a slight trouble, + compared with the fear that their pecuniary embarrassments might induce + them to sell my precious young daughter. I knew they were in constant + communication with Southerners, and had frequent opportunities to do it. I + have stated that when Dr. Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she + had an inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still + troubled her; and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New + York for a while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known + oculist. It did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a + mother’s making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused + to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I + made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s part + towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as + if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her own physician + to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my request because she + did not consider it safe to trust her in New York. I accepted the + explanation in silence; but she had told me that my child <i>belonged</i> + to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was a fear of my + conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her injustice; but my + knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that + it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe. When it + laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms + confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and + Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, + as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was + attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was closely observing + every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my + brother William? It <i>must</i> be he—and yet, how changed! I placed + the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the + sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my brother’s arms. How + much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over + each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with + Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended so carefully, while I + was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New York a week. His old + feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as lively as ever. There are + no bonds so strong as those which are formed by suffering together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again. + </h2> + <p> + My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my + letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I + received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In + order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear + in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. + They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three excursions to New York + in search of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five + hundred dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way + to the steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt + Nancy’s death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I + have kept the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from + it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among + your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the + contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any + members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards + you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your + unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to + make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return + home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, + it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although + it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be + allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from + her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. + From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and + uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be + reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms + and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as + we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. + Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my + sister was always attached to you, and that you were never + treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed + to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, + and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, + felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. + Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced + me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see + you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to + have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age + she needs the consolation of having her children round her. + Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a + faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. + In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high + the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have + seen us round her death-bed, with her mother, all mingling our + tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same + heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as + between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful + to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are + contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and + the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never + trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come + home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not + wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our + persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person + you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as + soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends + much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend + and well wisher. +</div> + <p> + This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I + knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and + though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in + former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the + hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to + go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the + African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their + cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged + with base ingratitude. + </p> + <p> + Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the + south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The + letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. + Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important + business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked + permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. + I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to + my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she + was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, + she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She + was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred + to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he + advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may + have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known + to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is + thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes + unpopular. + </p> + <p> + There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to + New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested + to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my + door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” he exclaimed, + “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d’you do?” + </p> + <p> + O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a + slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. + “Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see + her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I + wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t + know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost + all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose free boys + can get along here at the north as well as white boys.” + </p> + <p> + I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was + mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The + rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, + with the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with + us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and + be sure to tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon + me, and invite me to return with him, but not being able to ascertain + where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the + affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were doomed + to disappointment. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of + my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through + the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and + finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the + considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews + with my darling daughter. + </p> + <p> + But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was + necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh + air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might + recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like + one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a + comfort it is, to be free to <i>say</i> so! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXV. Prejudice Against Color. + </h2> + <p> + It was a relief to my mind to see preparations for leaving the city. We + went to Albany in the steamboat Knickerbocker. When the gong sounded for + tea, Mrs. Bruce said, “Linda, it is late, and you and baby had better come + to the table with me.” I replied, “I know it is time baby had her supper, + but I had rather not go with you, if you please. I am afraid of being + insulted.” “O no, not if you are with <i>me</i>,” she said. I saw several + white nurses go with their ladies, and I ventured to do the same. We were + at the extreme end of the table. I was no sooner seated, than a gruff + voice said, “Get up! You know you are not allowed to sit here.” I looked + up, and, to my astonishment and indignation, saw that the speaker was a + colored man. If his office required him to enforce the by-laws of the + boat, he might, at least, have done it politely. I replied, “I shall not + get up, unless the captain comes and takes me up.” No cup of tea was + offered me, but Mrs. Bruce handed me hers and called for another. I looked + to see whether the other nurses were treated in a similar manner. They + were all properly waited on. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when we stopped at Troy for breakfast, every body was making + a rush for the table. Mrs. Bruce said, “Take my arm, Linda, and we’ll go + in together.” The landlord heard her, and said, “Madam, will you allow + your nurse and baby to take breakfast with my family?” I knew this was to + be attributed to my complexion; but he spoke courteously, and therefore I + did not mind it. + </p> + <p> + At Saratoga we found the United States Hotel crowded, and Mr. Bruce took + one of the cottages belonging to the hotel. I had thought, with gladness, + of going to the quiet of the country, where I should meet few people, but + here I found myself in the midst of a swarm of Southerners. I looked round + me with fear and trembling, dreading to see some one who would recognize + me. I was rejoiced to find that we were to stay but a short time. + </p> + <p> + We soon returned to New York, to make arrangements for spending the + remainder of the summer at Rockaway. While the laundress was putting the + clothes in order, I took an opportunity to go over to Brooklyn to see + Ellen. I met her going to a grocery store, and the first words she said, + were, “O, mother, don’t go to Mrs. Hobbs’s. Her brother, Mr. Thorne, has + come from the south, and may be he’ll tell where you are.” I accepted the + warning. I told her I was going away with Mrs. Bruce the next day, and + would try to see her when I came back. + </p> + <p> + Being in servitude to the Anglo-Saxon race, I was not put into a “Jim Crow + car,” on our way to Rockaway, neither was I invited to ride through the + streets on the top of trunks in a truck; but every where I found the same + manifestations of that cruel prejudice, which so discourages the feelings, + and represses the energies of the colored people. We reached Rockaway + before dark, and put up at the Pavilion—a large hotel, beautifully + situated by the sea-side—a great resort of the fashionable world. + Thirty or forty nurses were there, of a great variety of nations. Some of + the ladies had colored waiting-maids and coachmen, but I was the only + nurse tinged with the blood of Africa. When the tea bell rang, I took + little Mary and followed the other nurses. Supper was served in a long + hall. A young man, who had the ordering of things, took the circuit of the + table two or three times, and finally pointed me to a seat at the lower + end of it. As there was but one chair, I sat down and took the child in my + lap. Whereupon the young man came to me and said, in the blandest manner + possible, “Will you please to seat the little girl in the chair, and stand + behind it and feed her? After they have done, you will be shown to the + kitchen, where you will have a good supper.” + </p> + <p> + This was the climax! I found it hard to preserve my self-control, when I + looked round, and saw women who were nurses, as I was, and only one shade + lighter in complexion, eyeing me with a defiant look, as if my presence + were a contamination. However, I said nothing. I quietly took the child in + my arms, went to our room, and refused to go to the table again. Mr. Bruce + ordered meals to be sent to the room for little Mary and I. This answered + for a few days; but the waiters of the establishment were white, and they + soon began to complain, saying they were not hired to wait on negroes. The + landlord requested Mr. Bruce to send me down to my meals, because his + servants rebelled against bringing them up, and the colored servants of + other boarders were dissatisfied because all were not treated alike. + </p> + <p> + My answer was that the colored servants ought to be dissatisfied with <i>themselves</i>, + for not having too much self-respect to submit to such treatment; that + there was no difference in the price of board for colored and white + servants, and there was no justification for difference of treatment. I + staid a month after this, and finding I was resolved to stand up for my + rights, they concluded to treat me well. Let every colored man and woman + do this, and eventually we shall cease to be trampled under foot by our + oppressors. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXVI. The Hairbreadth Escape. + </h2> + <p> + After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and + see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs. + Hobbs’s southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid + seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted + on my going up stairs. “My brother wants to see you,” said she, “and he is + sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told + me to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many + little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her + grandchild.” + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the + south, and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old + slaves to borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom + they consider an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he + professed to feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a + distance, but as he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was + nothing to be gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be + the means of exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He + met me in a very friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from + slavery, and hoped I had a good place, where I felt happy. + </p> + <p> + I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful + child, never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant + lookout for my safety. She never made any complaint about her own + inconveniences and troubles; but a mother’s observing eye easily perceived + that she was not happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her + unusually serious. When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing + was the matter. But I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very + grave. Finally, I ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation + that was continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very + often for rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and + Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so + that they had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. “But for all + that,” said she, “Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can’t help liking him. I + feel sorry for him.” I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had + laid up a hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give + her and Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous + not to add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover + till years afterwards that Mr. Thorne’s intemperance was not the only + annoyance she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to + my grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile + language into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild. + </p> + <p> + I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found + Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. “O, mother,” said she, + “I’ve been waiting for you this long time. I’m afraid Mr. Thorne has + written to tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. + Hobbs will tell you all about it!” + </p> + <p> + The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine + arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, + which he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the + time, and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the + pieces and carried them to the children, saying, “I wonder who Mr. Thorne + has been writing to.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I don’t know, and don’t care,” replied the oldest of the + children; “and I don’t see how it concerns you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does concern me,” replied Ellen; “for I’m afraid he’s been writing + to the south about my mother.” + </p> + <p> + They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put + the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were + no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, “I declare, Ellen, I + believe you are right.” + </p> + <p> + The contents of Mr. Thorne’s letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as + follows: “I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can + be taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here + to swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my + country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws.” He concluded by + informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children + carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother’s + room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they + saw him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to + the post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint + a copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it, + and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the + next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of + the family were astir. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city + with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and + all my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that + demon Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I + had not concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would + have made her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind + heart. I valued her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told + her all the particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was + necessary for her to know how I was situated. I had once left her + abruptly, without explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do + it again. I went home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness + of my face attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, + I poured out my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true + womanly sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. + How my heart blessed her! + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted. + They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great + if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house + of one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my + brother could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my + thoughts were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was + also mine by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that + made her so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. + Mrs. Hobbs, who felt badly about her brother’s treachery, yielded to my + entreaties, on condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided + making any promise. She came to me clad in very thin garments, all + outgrown, and with a school satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. + It was late in October, and I knew the child must suffer; and not daring + to go out in the streets to purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel + skirt and converted it into one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me + good by, and when she saw that I had taken off my clothing for my child, + the tears came to her eyes. She said, “Wait for me, Linda,” and went out. + She soon returned with a nice warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of + such souls as hers are the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go + to Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in + that direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers + that I formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the + steamboat Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I + knew that colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very + desirous for the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure + to the night air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting + on board for us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular + favor, that she would treat us well. He said to me, “Go and speak to the + captain yourself by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure + that he will not let her sleep on deck.” With these kind words and a shake + of the hand he departed. + </p> + <p> + The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home + where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to + purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he + would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave + me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner + I said, “You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot + possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter.” She assured me + there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were + allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much + travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain’s office, + and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the + hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our + tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was + contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he + would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he + was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the + boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies’ cabin. He came + afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that + he had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very + much surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don’t know whether the + pleasing face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the + stewardess inferred from Lawyer Hopper’s manner that I was a fugitive, and + had pleaded with him in my behalf. + </p> + <p> + When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and + showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to + take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on + toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we + reached Boston in safety. + </p> + <p> + The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if + I was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during + many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed + their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a + swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me. + </p> + <p> + I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend, + that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to + Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me + for that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her + age, so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her + myself till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter + passed pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with + their books. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXVII. A Visit To England + </h2> + <p> + In the spring, sad news came to me. Mrs. Bruce was dead. Never again, in + this world, should I see her gentle face, or hear her sympathizing voice. + I had lost an excellent friend, and little Mary had lost a tender mother. + Mr. Bruce wished the child to visit some of her mother’s relatives in + England, and he was desirous that I should take charge of her. The little + motherless one was accustomed to me, and attached to me, and I thought she + would be happier in my care than in that of a stranger. I could also earn + more in this way than I could by my needle. So I put Benny to a trade, and + left Ellen to remain in the house with my friend and go to school. + </p> + <p> + We sailed from New York, and arrived in Liverpool after a pleasant voyage + of twelve days. We proceeded directly to London, and took lodgings at the + Adelaide Hotel. The supper seemed to me less luxurious than those I had + seen in American hotels; but my situation was indescribably more pleasant. + For the first time in my life I was in a place where I was treated + according to my deportment, without reference to my complexion. I felt as + if a great millstone had been lifted from my breast. Ensconced in a + pleasant room, with my dear little charge, I laid my head on my pillow, + for the first time, with the delightful consciousness of pure, + unadulterated freedom. + </p> + <p> + As I had constant care of the child, I had little opportunity to see the + wonders of that great city; but I watched the tide of life that flowed + through the streets, and found it a strange contrast to the stagnation in + our Southern towns. Mr. Bruce took his little daughter to spend some days + with friends in Oxford Crescent, and of course it was necessary for me to + accompany her. I had heard much of the systematic method of English + education, and I was very desirous that my dear Mary should steer straight + in the midst of so much propriety. I closely observed her little playmates + and their nurses, being ready to take any lessons in the science of good + management. The children were more rosy than American children, but I did + not see that they differed materially in other respects. They were like + all children—sometimes docile and sometimes wayward. + </p> + <p> + We next went to Steventon, in Berkshire. It was a small town, said to be + the poorest in the county. I saw men working in the fields for six + shillings, and seven shillings, a week, and women for sixpence, and + sevenpence, a day, out of which they boarded themselves. Of course they + lived in the most primitive manner; it could not be otherwise, where a + woman’s wages for an entire day were not sufficient to buy a pound of + meat. They paid very low rents, and their clothes were made of the + cheapest fabrics, though much better than could have been procured in the + United States for the same money. I had heard much about the oppression of + the poor in Europe. The people I saw around me were, many of them, among + the poorest poor. But when I visited them in their little thatched + cottages, I felt that the condition of even the meanest and most ignorant + among them was vastly superior to the condition of the most favored slaves + in America. They labored hard; but they were not ordered out to toil while + the stars were in the sky, and driven and slashed by an overseer, through + heat and cold, till the stars shone out again. Their homes were very + humble; but they were protected by law. No insolent patrols could come, in + the dead of night, and flog them at their pleasure. The father, when he + closed his cottage door, felt safe with his family around him. No master + or overseer could come and take from him his wife, or his daughter. They + must separate to earn their living; but the parents knew where their + children were going, and could communicate with them by letters. The + relations of husband and wife, parent and child, were too sacred for the + richest noble in the land to violate with impunity. Much was being done to + enlighten these poor people. Schools were established among them, and + benevolent societies were active in efforts to ameliorate their condition. + There was no law forbidding them to learn to read and write; and if they + helped each other in spelling out the Bible, they were in no danger of + thirty-nine lashes, as was the case with myself and poor, pious, old uncle + Fred. I repeat that the most ignorant and the most destitute of these + peasants was a thousand fold better off than the most pampered American + slave. + </p> + <p> + I do not deny that the poor are oppressed in Europe. I am not disposed to + paint their condition so rose-colored as the Hon. Miss Murray paints the + condition of the slaves in the United States. A small portion of <i>my</i> + experience would enable her to read her own pages with anointed eyes. If + she were to lay aside her title, and, instead of visiting among the + fashionable, become domesticated, as a poor governess, on some plantation + in Louisiana or Alabama, she would see and hear things that would make her + tell quite a different story. + </p> + <p> + My visit to England is a memorable event in my life, from the fact of my + having there received strong religious impressions. The contemptuous + manner in which the communion had been administered to colored people, in + my native place; the church membership of Dr. Flint, and others like him; + and the buying and selling of slaves, by professed ministers of the + gospel, had given me a prejudice against the Episcopal church. The whole + service seemed to me a mockery and a sham. But my home in Steventon was in + the family of a clergyman, who was a true disciple of Jesus. The beauty of + his daily life inspired me with faith in the genuineness of Christian + professions. Grace entered my heart, and I knelt at the communion table, I + trust, in true humility of soul. + </p> + <p> + I remained abroad ten months, which was much longer than I had + anticipated. During all that time, I never saw the slightest symptom of + prejudice against color. Indeed, I entirely forgot it, till the time came + for us to return to America. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXVIII. Renewed Invitations To Go South. + </h2> + <p> + We had a tedious winter passage, and from the distance spectres seemed to + rise up on the shores of the United States. It is a sad feeling to be + afraid of one’s native country. We arrived in New York safely, and I + hastened to Boston to look after my children. I found Ellen well, and + improving at her school; but Benny was not there to welcome me. He had + been left at a good place to learn a trade, and for several months every + thing worked well. He was liked by the master, and was a favorite with his + fellow-apprentices; but one day they accidentally discovered a fact they + had never before suspected—that he was colored! This at once + transformed him into a different being. Some of the apprentices were + Americans, others American-born Irish; and it was offensive to their + dignity to have a “nigger” among them, after they had been told that he <i>was</i> + a “nigger.” They began by treating him with silent scorn, and finding that + he returned the same, they resorted to insults and abuse. He was too + spirited a boy to stand that, and he went off. Being desirous to do + something to support himself, and having no one to advise him, he shipped + for a whaling voyage. When I received these tidings I shed many tears, and + bitterly reproached myself for having left him so long. But I had done it + for the best, and now all I could do was to pray to the heavenly Father to + guide and protect him. + </p> + <p> + Not long after my return, I received the following letter from Miss Emily + Flint, now Mrs. Dodge:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + In this you will recognize the hand of your friend and mistress. + Having heard that you had gone with a family to Europe, I have + waited to hear of your return to write to you. I should have + answered the letter you wrote to me long since, but as I could + not then act independently of my father, I knew there could be + nothing done satisfactory to you. There were persons here who + were willing to buy you and run the risk of getting you. To this + I would not consent. I have always been attached to you, and + would not like to see you the slave of another, or have unkind + treatment. I am married now, and can protect you. My husband + expects to move to Virginia this spring, where we think of + settling. I am very anxious that you should come and live with + me. If you are not willing to come, you may purchase yourself; + but I should prefer having you live with me. If you come, you + may, if you like, spend a month with your grandmother and + friends, then come to me in Norfolk, Virginia. Think this over, + and write as soon as possible, and let me know the conclusion. + Hoping that your children are well, I remain your friend and + mistress. +</div> + <p> + Of course I did not write to return thanks for this cordial invitation. I + felt insulted to be thought stupid enough to be caught by such + professions. + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + “Come up into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly;<br /> + “Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.” +</div> + <p> + It was plain that Dr. Flint’s family were apprised of my movements, since + they knew of my voyage to Europe. I expected to have further trouble from + them; but having eluded them thus far, I hoped to be as successful in + future. The money I had earned, I was desirous to devote to the education + of my children, and to secure a home for them. It seemed not only hard, + but unjust, to pay for myself. I could not possibly regard myself as a + piece of property. Moreover, I had worked many years without wages, and + during that time had been obliged to depend on my grandmother for many + comforts in food and clothing. My children certainly belonged to me; but + though Dr. Flint had incurred no expense for their support, he had + received a large sum of money for them. I knew the law would decide that I + was his property, and would probably still give his daughter a claim to my + children; but I regarded such laws as the regulations of robbers, who had + no rights that I was bound to respect. + </p> + <p> + The Fugitive Slave Law had not then passed. The judges of Massachusetts + had not then stooped under chains to enter her courts of justice, so + called. I knew my old master was rather skittish of Massachusetts. I + relied on her love of freedom, and felt safe on her soil. I am now aware + that I honored the old Commonwealth beyond her deserts. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XXXIX. The Confession. + </h2> + <p> + For two years my daughter and I supported ourselves comfortably in Boston. + At the end of that time, my brother William offered to send Ellen to a + boarding school. It required a great effort for me to consent to part with + her, for I had few near ties, and it was her presence that made my two + little rooms seem home-like. But my judgment prevailed over my selfish + feelings. I made preparations for her departure. During the two years we + had lived together I had often resolved to tell her something about her + father; but I had never been able to muster sufficient courage. I had a + shrinking dread of diminishing my child’s love. I knew she must have + curiosity on the subject, but she had never asked a question. She was + always very careful not to say any thing to remind me of my troubles. Now + that she was going from me, I thought if I should die before she returned, + she might hear my story from some one who did not understand the + palliating circumstances; and that if she were entirely ignorant on the + subject, her sensitive nature might receive a rude shock. + </p> + <p> + When we retired for the night, she said, “Mother, it is very hard to leave + you alone. I am almost sorry I am going, though I do want to improve + myself. But you will write to me often; won’t you, mother?” + </p> + <p> + I did not throw my arms round her. I did not answer her. But in a calm, + solemn way, for it cost me great effort, I said, “Listen to me, Ellen; I + have something to tell you!” I recounted my early sufferings in slavery, + and told her how nearly they had crushed me. I began to tell her how they + had driven me into a great sin, when she clasped me in her arms, and + exclaimed, “O, don’t, mother! Please don’t tell me any more.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “But, my child, I want you to know about your father.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father, + and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five + months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me as + he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father, for + Fanny’s nurse told me so, but she said I must never tell any body, and I + never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss me, as he + did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did at her. I + thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a little girl + then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any thing about my + father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as she spoke, and I + thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded to impart had not + diminished the affection of my child. I had not the slightest idea she + knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should have spoken to her + long before; for my pent-up feelings had often longed to pour themselves + out to some one I could trust. But I loved the dear girl better for the + delicacy she had manifested towards her unfortunate mother. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the + village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed as if + all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully lonely. I + was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to employ me, + requesting me to come and sew in her family for several weeks. On my + return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought of opening an + anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining with it the sale of + some books and stationery; and he wanted me to unite with him. We tried + it, but it was not successful. We found warm anti-slavery friends there, + but the feeling was not general enough to support such an establishment. I + passed nearly a year in the family of Isaac and Amy Post, practical + believers in the Christian doctrine of human brotherhood. They measure a + man’s worth by his character, not by his complexion. The memory of those + beloved and honored friends will remain with me to my latest hour. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XL. The Fugitive Slave Law. + </h2> + <p> + My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to + California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen + liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her + history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make + capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered + that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase + her advantages and diminish her expenses. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I + preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from + Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling + little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a + cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl + now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was + proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one + hesitation, and that was feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly + increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to + try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. + Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic influences, and still + living in the midst of them; but if she had any prejudice against color, I + was never made aware of it; and as for the system of slavery, she had a + most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry of Southerners could blind her to + its enormity. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. + To me, from that hour to the present, she has been a true and sympathizing + friend. Blessings be with her and hers! + </p> + <p> + About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred of + disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first + fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of + the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign + of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl + of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals of the + poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of + Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted + colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from + Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, + fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made + herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a + hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in + Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that + her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. + Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery + years ago, and as “the child follows the condition of its mother,” the + children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. + Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. + But what cared the legislators of the “dominant race” for the blood they + were crushing out of trampled hearts? + </p> + <p> + When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to + California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our + oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I + seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our + oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did + not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by + his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent + and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; + and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the + family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What + a disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of + offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be + condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for + protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu + vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their + persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the + newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I + did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might + be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if + necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that + “knowledge should be increased.” + </p> + <p> + This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly + relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to + a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter + heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was + included in the son’s portion. This young man became a prey to the vices + he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with + him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive + dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose + despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own + helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial + occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel + beside the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. + Some days he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to + be in readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving + more or less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town + constable was sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from + experience how much more the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than + the comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew + weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in + constant requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s + care, and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring + any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to + increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere + degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of + despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable + was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy + to be repeated. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke + still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch. + </p> + <p> + One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was + hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man + approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I + recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had + escaped from the black pit; I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern + soil, though I no longer called it <i>free</i> soil. I well remembered + what a desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up + to him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I + mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive + Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was a city of + kidnappers. + </p> + <p> + He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I runned + away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem + speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain’t + sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk good car + ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis nigger.” + </p> + <p> + He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. + I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon it, I + hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days fur dem + cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger + had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he + lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil + would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his money ’long too. So I tuk + some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he + was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” + With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see I didn’t <i>steal</i> it; + dey <i>gub</i> it to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de + speculator from findin it; but he didn’t git it.” + </p> + <p> + This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. + When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws + sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard + to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat + enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused + Luke, in thinking he had a <i>right</i> to that money, as a portion of his + unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from + him. + </p> + <p> + All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children + out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. + I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their + appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws + as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called + free! + </p> + <p> + Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew + of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me + caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s + children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which + slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at + their cupidity and mean servility. + </p> + <p> + I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt + measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied + immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should + carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for + the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how + few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a + fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of + the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice + she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, “It is + better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your + track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there + is a possibility of saving you, you shall be saved.” + </p> + <p> + This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many + respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for + harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her + country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, “I am + very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. + Shame on my country that it <i>is</i> so! I am ready to incur the penalty. + I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have any poor victim torn + from <i>my</i> house, to be carried back to slavery.” + </p> + <p> + The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write + of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my + persecuted people! + </p> + <p> + I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a + senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable + gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the + senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was strongly opposed + to it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me + remain in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I + remained a month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint’s + emissaries had lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, + I returned to New York. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + XLI. Free At Last. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce, and every member of her family, were exceedingly kind to me. I + was thankful for the blessings of my lot, yet I could not always wear a + cheerful countenance. I was doing harm to no one; on the contrary, I was + doing all the good I could in my small way; yet I could never go out to + breathe God’s free air without trepidation at my heart. This seemed hard; + and I could not think it was a right state of things in any civilized + country. + </p> + <p> + From time to time I received news from my good old grandmother. She could + not write; but she employed others to write for her. The following is an + extract from one of her last letters:— + </p> +<div class="preserve"> + Dear Daughter: I cannot hope to see you again on earth; but I + pray to God to unite us above, where pain will no more rack this + feeble body of mine; where sorrow and parting from my children + will be no more. God has promised these things if we are faithful + unto the end. My age and feeble health deprive me of going to + church now; but God is with me here at home. Thank your brother + for his kindness. Give much love to him, and tell him to remember + the Creator in the days of his youth, and strive to meet me in + the Father’s kingdom. Love to Ellen and Benjamin. Don’t neglect + him. Tell him for me, to be a good boy. Strive, my child, to + train them for God’s children. May he protect and provide for + you, is the prayer of your loving old mother. +</div> + <p> + These letters both cheered and saddened me. I was always glad to have + tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my unhappy youth; but her + messages of love made my heart yearn to see her before she died, and I + mourned over the fact that it was impossible. Some months after I returned + from my flight to New England, I received a letter from her, in which she + wrote, “Dr. Flint is dead. He has left a distressed family. Poor old man! + I hope he made his peace with God.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered how he had defrauded my grandmother of the hard earnings she + had loaned; how he had tried to cheat her out of the freedom her mistress + had promised her, and how he had persecuted her children; and I thought to + myself that she was a better Christian than I was, if she could entirely + forgive him. I cannot say, with truth, that the news of my old master’s + death softened my feelings towards him. There are wrongs which even the + grave does not bury. The man was odious to me while he lived, and his + memory is odious now. + </p> + <p> + His departure from this world did not diminish my danger. He had + threatened my grandmother that his heirs should hold me in slavery after + he was gone; that I never should be free so long as a child of his + survived. As for Mrs. Flint, I had seen her in deeper afflictions than I + supposed the loss of her husband would be, for she had buried several + children; yet I never saw any signs of softening in her heart. The doctor + had died in embarrassed circumstances, and had little to will to his + heirs, except such property as he was unable to grasp. I was well aware + what I had to expect from the family of Flints; and my fears were + confirmed by a letter from the south, warning me to be on my guard, + because Mrs. Flint openly declared that her daughter could not afford to + lose so valuable a slave as I was. + </p> + <p> + I kept close watch of the newspapers for arrivals; but one Saturday night, + being much occupied, I forgot to examine the Evening Express as usual. I + went down into the parlor for it, early in the morning, and found the boy + about to kindle a fire with it. I took it from him and examined the list + of arrivals. Reader, if you have never been a slave, you cannot imagine + the acute sensation of suffering at my heart, when I read the names of Mr. + and Mrs. Dodge, at a hotel in Courtland Street. It was a third-rate hotel, + and that circumstance convinced me of the truth of what I had heard, that + they were short of funds and had need of my value, as <i>they</i> valued + me; and that was by dollars and cents. I hastened with the paper to Mrs. + Bruce. Her heart and hand were always open to every one in distress, and + she always warmly sympathized with mine. It was impossible to tell how + near the enemy was. He might have passed and repassed the house while we + were sleeping. He might at that moment be waiting to pounce upon me if I + ventured out of doors. I had never seen the husband of my young mistress, + and therefore I could not distinguish him from any other stranger. A + carriage was hastily ordered; and, closely veiled, I followed Mrs. Bruce, + taking the baby again with me into exile. After various turnings and + crossings, and returnings, the carriage stopped at the house of one of + Mrs. Bruce’s friends, where I was kindly received. Mrs. Bruce returned + immediately, to instruct the domestics what to say if any one came to + inquire for me. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky for me that the evening paper was not burned up before I had + a chance to examine the list of arrivals. It was not long after Mrs. + Bruce’s return to her house, before several people came to inquire for me. + One inquired for me, another asked for my daughter Ellen, and another said + he had a letter from my grandmother, which he was requested to deliver in + person. + </p> + <p> + They were told, “She <i>has</i> lived here, but she has left.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where she went?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir.” And the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + This Mr. Dodge, who claimed me as his property, was originally a Yankee + pedler in the south; then he became a merchant, and finally a slaveholder. + He managed to get introduced into what was called the first society, and + married Miss Emily Flint. A quarrel arose between him and her brother, and + the brother cowhided him. This led to a family feud, and he proposed to + remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, and his own means had + become circumscribed, while a wife and children depended upon him for + support. Under these circumstances, it was very natural that he should + make an effort to put me into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + I had a colored friend, a man from my native place, in whom I had the most + implicit confidence. I sent for him, and told him that Mr. and Mrs. Dodge + had arrived in New York. I proposed that he should call upon them to make + inquiries about his friends at the south, with whom Dr. Flint’s family + were well acquainted. He thought there was no impropriety in his doing so, + and he consented. He went to the hotel, and knocked at the door of Mr. + Dodge’s room, which was opened by the gentleman himself, who gruffly + inquired, “What brought you here? How came you to know I was in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Your arrival was published in the evening papers, sir; and I called to + ask Mrs. Dodge about my friends at home. I didn’t suppose it would give + any offence.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s that negro girl, that belongs to my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “What girl, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You know well enough. I mean Linda, that ran away from Dr. Flint’s + plantation, some years ago. I dare say you’ve seen her, and know where she + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I’ve seen her, and know where she is. She is out of your reach, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where she is, or bring her to me, and I will give her a chance to + buy her freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would be of any use, sir. I have heard her say she would + go to the ends of the earth, rather than pay any man or woman for her + freedom, because she thinks she has a right to it. Besides, she couldn’t + do it, if she would, for she has spent her earnings to educate her + children.” + </p> + <p> + This made Mr. Dodge very angry, and some high words passed between them. + My friend was afraid to come where I was; but in the course of the day I + received a note from him. I supposed they had not come from the south, in + the winter, for a pleasure excursion; and now the nature of their business + was very plain. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bruce came to me and entreated me to leave the city the next morning. + She said her house was watched, and it was possible that some clew to me + might be obtained. I refused to take her advice. She pleaded with an + earnest tenderness, that ought to have moved me; but I was in a bitter, + disheartened mood. I was weary of flying from pillar to post. I had been + chased during half my life, and it seemed as if the chase was never to + end. There I sat, in that great city, guiltless of crime, yet not daring + to worship God in any of the churches. I heard the bells ringing for + afternoon service, and, with contemptuous sarcasm, I said, “Will the + preachers take for their text, ‘Proclaim liberty to the captive, and the + opening of prison doors to them that are bound’? or will they preach from + the text, ‘Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you’?” Oppressed + Poles and Hungarians could find a safe refuge in that city; John Mitchell + was free to proclaim in the City Hall his desire for “a plantation well + stocked with slaves;” but there I sat, an oppressed American, not daring + to show my face. God forgive the black and bitter thoughts I indulged on + that Sabbath day! The Scripture says, “Oppression makes even a wise man + mad;” and I was not wise. + </p> + <p> + I had been told that Mr. Dodge said his wife had never signed away her + right to my children, and if he could not get me, he would take them. This + it was, more than any thing else, that roused such a tempest in my soul. + Benjamin was with his uncle William in California, but my innocent young + daughter had come to spend a vacation with me. I thought of what I had + suffered in slavery at her age, and my heart was like a tiger’s when a + hunter tries to seize her young. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mrs. Bruce! I seem to see the expression of her face, as she turned + away discouraged by my obstinate mood. Finding her expostulations + unavailing, she sent Ellen to entreat me. When ten o’clock in the evening + arrived and Ellen had not returned, this watchful and unwearied friend + became anxious. She came to us in a carriage, bringing a well-filled trunk + for my journey—trusting that by this time I would listen to reason. + I yielded to her, as I ought to have done before. + </p> + <p> + The next day, baby and I set out in a heavy snow storm, bound for New + England again. I received letters from the City of Iniquity, addressed to + me under an assumed name. In a few days one came from Mrs. Bruce, + informing me that my new master was still searching for me, and that she + intended to put an end to this persecution by buying my freedom. I felt + grateful for the kindness that prompted this offer, but the idea was not + so pleasant to me as might have been expected. The more my mind had become + enlightened, the more difficult it was for me to consider myself an + article of property; and to pay money to those who had so grievously + oppressed me seemed like taking from my sufferings the glory of triumph. I + wrote to Mrs. Bruce, thanking her, but saying that being sold from one + owner to another seemed too much like slavery; that such a great + obligation could not be easily cancelled; and that I preferred to go to my + brother in California. + </p> + <p> + Without my knowledge, Mrs. Bruce employed a gentleman in New York to enter + into negotiations with Mr. Dodge. He proposed to pay three hundred dollars + down, if Mr. Dodge would sell me, and enter into obligations to relinquish + all claim to me or my children forever after. He who called himself my + master said he scorned so small an offer for such a valuable servant. The + gentleman replied, “You can do as you choose, sir. If you reject this + offer you will never get any thing; for the woman has friends who will + convey her and her children out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dodge concluded that “half a loaf was better than no bread,” and he + agreed to the proffered terms. By the next mail I received this brief + letter from Mrs. Bruce: “I am rejoiced to tell you that the money for your + freedom has been paid to Mr. Dodge. Come home to-morrow. I long to see you + and my sweet babe.” + </p> + <p> + My brain reeled as I read these lines. A gentleman near me said, “It’s + true; I have seen the bill of sale.” “The bill of sale!” Those words + struck me like a blow. So I was <i>sold</i> at last! A human being <i>sold</i> + in the free city of New York! The bill of sale is on record, and future + generations will learn from it that women were articles of traffic in New + York, late in the nineteenth century of the Christian religion. It may + hereafter prove a useful document to antiquaries, who are seeking to + measure the progress of civilization in the United States. I well know the + value of that bit of paper; but much as I love freedom, I do not like to + look upon it. I am deeply grateful to the generous friend who procured it, + but I despise the miscreant who demanded payment for what never rightfully + belonged to him or his. + </p> + <p> + I had objected to having my freedom bought, yet I must confess that when + it was done I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my weary + shoulders. When I rode home in the cars I was no longer afraid to unveil + my face and look at people as they passed. I should have been glad to have + met Daniel Dodge himself; to have had him seen me and known me, that he + might have mourned over the untoward circumstances which compelled him to + sell me for three hundred dollars. + </p> + <p> + When I reached home, the arms of my benefactress were thrown round me, and + our tears mingled. As soon as she could speak, she said, “O Linda, I’m <i>so</i> + glad it’s all over! You wrote to me as if you thought you were going to be + transferred from one owner to another. But I did not buy you for your + services. I should have done just the same, if you had been going to sail + for California to-morrow. I should, at least, have the satisfaction of + knowing that you left me a free woman.” + </p> + <p> + My heart was exceedingly full. I remembered how my poor father had tried + to buy me, when I was a small child, and how he had been disappointed. I + hoped his spirit was rejoicing over me now. I remembered how my good old + grandmother had laid up her earnings to purchase me in later years, and + how often her plans had been frustrated. How that faithful, loving old + heart would leap for joy, if she could look on me and my children now that + we were free! My relatives had been foiled in all their efforts, but God + had raised me up a friend among strangers, who had bestowed on me the + precious, long-desired boon. Friend! It is a common word, often lightly + used. Like other good and beautiful things, it may be tarnished by + careless handling; but when I speak of Mrs. Bruce as my friend, the word + is sacred. + </p> + <p> + My grandmother lived to rejoice in my freedom; but not long after, a + letter came with a black seal. She had gone “where the wicked cease from + troubling, and the weary are at rest.” + </p> + <p> + Time passed on, and a paper came to me from the south, containing an + obituary notice of my uncle Phillip. It was the only case I ever knew of + such an honor conferred upon a colored person. It was written by one of + his friends, and contained these words: “Now that death has laid him low, + they call him a good man and a useful citizen; but what are eulogies to + the black man, when the world has faded from his vision? It does not + require man’s praise to obtain rest in God’s kingdom.” So they called a + colored man a <i>citizen</i>! Strange words to be uttered in that region! + </p> + <p> + Reader, my story ends with freedom; not in the usual way, with marriage. I + and my children are now free! We are as free from the power of + slaveholders as are the white people of the north; and though that, + according to my ideas, is not saying a great deal, it is a vast + improvement in <i>my</i> condition. The dream of my life is not yet + realized. I do not sit with my children in a home of my own, I still long + for a hearthstone of my own, however humble. I wish it for my children’s + sake far more than for my own. But God so orders circumstances as to keep + me with my friend Mrs. Bruce. Love, duty, gratitude, also bind me to her + side. It is a privilege to serve her who pities my oppressed people, and + who has bestowed the inestimable boon of freedom on me and my children. + </p> + <p> + It has been painful to me, in many ways, to recall the dreary years I + passed in bondage. I would gladly forget them if I could. Yet the + retrospection is not altogether without solace; for with those gloomy + recollections come tender memories of my good old grandmother, like light, + fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class='chapter' /><h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + The following statement is from Amy Post, a member of the Society of + Friends in the State of New York, well known and highly respected by + friends of the poor and the oppressed. As has been already stated, in the + preceding pages, the author of this volume spent some time under her + hospitable roof. + </p> + <div class='ph3'>L.M.C.</div> +<div class="preserve"> + The author of this book is my highly-esteemed friend. If its + readers knew her as I know her, they could not fail to be deeply + interested in her story. She was a beloved inmate of our family + nearly the whole of the year 1849. She was introduced to us by + her affectionate and conscientious brother, who had previously + related to us some of the almost incredible events in his + sister’s life. I immediately became much interested in Linda; for + her appearance was prepossessing, and her deportment indicated + remarkable delicacy of feeling and purity of thought. + + As we became acquainted, she related to me, from time to time + some of the incidents in her bitter experiences as a slave woman. + Though impelled by a natural craving for human sympathy, she + passed through a baptism of suffering, even in recounting her + trials to me, in private confidential conversations. The burden + of these memories lay heavily upon her spirit—naturally virtuous + and refined. I repeatedly urged her to consent to the publication + of her narrative; for I felt that it would arouse people to a + more earnest work for the disenthrallment of millions still + remaining in that soul-crushing condition, which was so + unendurable to her. But her sensitive spirit shrank from + publicity. She said, “You know a woman can whisper her cruel + wrongs in the ear of a dear friend much easier than she can + record them for the world to read.” Even in talking with me, she + wept so much, and seemed to suffer such mental agony, that I felt + her story was too sacred to be drawn from her by inquisitive + questions, and I left her free to tell as much, or as little, as + she chose. Still, I urged upon her the duty of publishing her + experience, for the sake of the good it might do; and, at last, + she undertook the task. + + Having been a slave so large a portion of her life, she is + unlearned; she is obliged to earn her living by her own labor, + and she has worked untiringly to procure education for her + children; several times she has been obliged to leave her + employments, in order to fly from the man-hunters and + woman-hunters of our land; but she pressed through all these + obstacles and overcame them. After the labors of the day were + over, she traced secretly and wearily, by the midnight lamp, a + truthful record of her eventful life. + + This Empire State is a shabby place of refuge for the oppressed; + but here, through anxiety, turmoil, and despair, the freedom of + Linda and her children was finally secured, by the exertions of a + generous friend. She was grateful for the boon; but the idea of + having been <i>bought</i> was always galling to a spirit that could + never acknowledge itself to be a chattel. She wrote to us thus, + soon after the event: “I thank you for your kind expressions in + regard to my freedom; but the freedom I had before the money was + paid was dearer to me. God gave me <i>that</i> freedom; but man put + God’s image in the scales with the paltry sum of three hundred + dollars. I served for my liberty as faithfully as Jacob served + for Rachel. At the end, he had large possessions; but I was + robbed of my victory; I was obliged to resign my crown, to rid + myself of a tyrant.” + + Her story, as written by herself, cannot fail to interest the + reader. It is a sad illustration of the condition of this + country, which boasts of its civilization, while it sanctions + laws and customs which make the experiences of the present more + strange than any fictions of the past. + + Amy Post. Rochester, N.Y., Oct. 30th, 1859. +</div> + <p> + The following testimonial is from a man who is now a highly respectable + colored citizen of Boston. + </p> + <div class='ph3'>L.M.C.</div> + +<div class="preserve"> + This narrative contains some incidents so extraordinary, that, + doubtless, many persons, under whose eyes it may chance to fall, + will be ready to believe that it is colored highly, to serve a + special purpose. But, however it may be regarded by the + incredulous, I know that it is full of living truths. I have been + well acquainted with the author from my boyhood. The + circumstances recounted in her history are perfectly familiar to + me. I knew of her treatment from her master; of the imprisonment + of her children; of their sale and redemption; of her seven + years’ concealment; and of her subsequent escape to the North. I + am now a resident of Boston, and am a living witness to the truth + of this interesting narrative. + + George W. Lowther. +</div> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 11030-h.htm or 11030-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/3/11030/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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