Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Written by Herself
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