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