The History of Mary Prince, a West Indian Slave
She could not bear to part with her old playmates, and she cried sore and
would not be pacified.
The black morning at length came; it came too soon for my poor mother and
us. Whilst she was putting on us the new osnaburgs in which we were to be
sold, she said, in a sorrowful voice, (I shall never forget it!) "See, I
am _shrouding_ my poor children; what a task for a mother!"--She then
called Miss Betsey to take leave of us. "I am going to carry my little
chickens to market," (these were her very words,) "take your last look of
them; may be you will see them no more." "Oh, my poor slaves! my own
slaves!" said dear Miss Betsey, "you belong to me; and it grieves my heart
to part with you."--Miss Betsey kissed us all, and, when she left us, my
mother called the rest of the slaves to bid us good bye. One of them, a
woman named Moll, came with her infant in her arms. "Ay!" said my mother,
seeing her turn away and look at her child with the tears in her eyes,
"your turn will come next." The slaves could say nothing to comfort us;
they could only weep and lament with us. When I left my dear little
brothers and the house in which I had been brought up, I thought my heart
would burst.
Our mother, weeping as she went, called me away with the children Hannah
and Dinah, and we took the road that led to Hamble Town, which we reached
about four o'clock in the afternoon. We followed my mother to the
market-place, where she placed us in a row against a large house, with our
backs to the wall and our arms folded across our breasts. I, as the
eldest, stood first, Hannah next to me, then Dinah; and our mother stood
beside, crying over us. My heart throbbed with grief and terror so
violently, that I pressed my hands quite tightly across my breast, but I
could not keep it still, and it continued to leap as though it would burst
out of my body. But who cared for that? Did one of the many by-standers,
who were looking at us so carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the
hearts of the negro woman and her young ones? No, no! They were not all
bad, I dare say; but slavery hardens white people's hearts towards the
blacks; and many of them were not slow to make their remarks upon us
aloud, without regard to our grief--though their light words fell like
cayenne on the fresh wounds of our hearts. Oh those white people have
small hearts who can only feel for themselves.
At length the vendue master, who was to offer us for sale like sheep or
cattle, arrived, and asked my mother which was the eldest. She said
nothing, but pointed to me. He took me by the hand, and led me out into
the middle of the street, and, turning me slowly round, exposed me to the
view of those who attended the vendue. I was soon surrounded by strange
men, who examined and handled me in the same manner that a butcher would a
calf or a lamb he was about to purchase, and who talked about my shape and
size in like words--as if I could no more understand their meaning than
the dumb beasts. I was then put up to sale. The bidding commenced at a few
pounds, and gradually rose to fifty-seven,[1] when I was knocked down to
the highest bidder; and the people who stood by said that I had fetched a
great sum for so young a slave.
[Footnote 1: Bermuda currency; about L38 sterling.]
I then saw my sisters led forth, and sold to different owners; so that we
had not the sad satisfaction of being partners in bondage. When the sale
was over, my mother hugged and kissed us, and mourned over us, begging of
us to keep up a good heart, and do our duty to our new masters. It was a
sad parting; one went one way, one another, and our poor mammy went home
with nothing.[2]
[Footnote 2: Let the reader compare the above affecting account, taken
down from the mouth of this negro woman, with the following description of
a vendue of slaves at the Cape of Good Hope, published by me in 1826, from
the letter of a friend,--and mark their similarity in several
characteristic circumstances. The resemblance is easily accounted for:
slavery wherever it prevails produces similar effects.--"Having heard that
there was to be a sale of cattle, farm stock, &c. by auction, at a
Veld-Cornet's in the vicinity, we halted our waggon one day for the
purpose of procuring a fresh spann of oxen. Among the stock of the farm
sold, was a female slave and her three children. The two eldest children
were girls, the one about thirteen years of age, and the other about
eleven; the youngest was a boy. The whole family were exhibited together,
but they were sold separately, and to different purchasers. The farmers
examined them as if they had been so many head of cattle. While the sale
was going on, the mother and her children were exhibited on a table, that
they might be seen by the company, which was very large. There could not
have been a finer subject for an able painter than this unhappy group. The
tears, the anxiety, the anguish of the mother, while she met the gaze of
the multitude, eyed the different countenances of the bidders, or cast a
heart-rending look upon the children; and the simplicity and touching
sorrow of the young ones, while they clung to their distracted parent,
wiping their eyes, and half concealing their faces,--contrasted with the
marked insensibility and jocular countenances of the spectators and
purchasers,--furnished a striking commentary on the miseries of slavery,
and its debasing effects upon the hearts of its abettors. While the woman
was in this distressed situation she was asked, 'Can you feed sheep?' Her
reply was so indistinct that it escaped me; but it was probably in the
negative, for her purchaser rejoined, in a loud and harsh voice, 'Then I
will teach you with the sjamboc,' (a whip made of the rhinoceros' hide.)
The mother and her three children were sold to three separate purchasers;
and they were literally torn from each other."--_Ed._]
My new master was a Captain I----, who lived at Spanish Point. After
parting with my mother and sisters, I followed him to his store, and he
gave me into the charge of his son, a lad about my own age, Master Benjy,
who took me to my new home. I did not know where I was going, or what my
new master would do with me. My heart was quite broken with grief, and my
thoughts went back continually to those from whom I had been so suddenly
parted. "Oh, my mother! my mother!" I kept saying to myself, "Oh, my mammy
and my sisters and my brothers, shall I never see you again!"
Oh, the trials! the trials! they make the salt water come into my eyes
when I think of the days in which I was afflicted--the times that are
gone; when I mourned and grieved with a young heart for those whom I
loved.
It was night when I reached my new home. The house was large, and built at
the bottom of a very high hill; but I could not see much of it that night.
I saw too much of it afterwards. The stones and the timber were the best
things in it; they were not so hard as the hearts of the owners.[3]
[Footnote 3: These strong expressions, and all of a similar character in
this little narrative, are given verbatim as uttered by Mary
Prince.--_Ed._]
Before I entered the house, two slave women, hired from another owner, who
were at work in the yard, spoke to me, and asked who I belonged to? I
replied, "I am come to live here." "Poor child, poor child!" they both
said; "you must keep a good heart, if you are to live here."--When I went
in, I stood up crying in a corner. Mrs. I---- came and took off my hat, a
little black silk hat Miss Pruden made for me, and said in a rough voice,
"You are not come here to stand up in corners and cry, you are come here
to work." She then put a child into my arms, and, tired as I was, I was
forced instantly to take up my old occupation of a nurse.--I could not
bear to look at my mistress, her countenance was so stern. She was a stout
tall woman with a very dark complexion, and her brows were always drawn
together into a frown. I thought of the words of the two slave women when
I saw Mrs. I----, and heard the harsh sound of her voice.
The person I took the most notice of that night was a French Black called
Hetty, whom my master took in privateering from another vessel, and made
his slave. She was the most active woman I ever saw, and she was tasked to
her utmost. A few minutes after my arrival she came in from milking the
cows, and put the sweet-potatoes on for supper. She then fetched home the
sheep, and penned them in the fold; drove home the cattle, and staked them
about the pond side;[4] fed and rubbed down my master's horse, and gave
the hog and the fed cow[5] their suppers; prepared the beds, and undressed
the children, and laid them to sleep. I liked to look at her and watch all
her doings, for hers was the only friendly face I had as yet seen, and I
felt glad that she was there. She gave me my supper of potatoes and milk,
and a blanket to sleep upon, which she spread for me in the passage before
the door of Mrs. I----'s chamber.
[Footnote 4: The cattle on a small plantation in Bermuda are, it seems,
often thus staked or tethered, both night and day, in situations where
grass abounds.]
[Footnote 5: A cow fed for slaughter.]
I got a sad fright, that night. I was just going to sleep, when I heard a
noise in my mistress's room; and she presently called out to inquire if
some work was finished that she had ordered Hetty to do. "No, Ma'am, not
yet," was Hetty's answer from below. On hearing this, my master started up
from his bed, and just as he was, in his shirt, ran down stairs with a
long cow-skin[6] in his hand. I heard immediately after, the cracking of
the thong, and the house rang to the shrieks of poor Hetty, who kept
crying out, "Oh, Massa! Massa! me dead. Massa! have mercy upon me--don't
kill me outright."--This was a sad beginning for me. I sat up upon my
blanket, trembling with terror, like a frightened hound, and thinking that
my turn would come next. At length the house became still, and I forgot
for a little while all my sorrows by falling fast asleep.
[Footnote 6: A thong of hard twisted hide, known by this name in the West
Indies.]
The next morning my mistress set about instructing me in my tasks. She
taught me to do all sorts of household work; to wash and bake, pick cotton
and wool, and wash floors, and cook. And she taught me (how can I ever
forget it!) more things than these; she caused me to know the exact
difference between the smart of the rope, the cart-whip, and the cow-skin,
when applied to my naked body by her own cruel hand. And there was
scarcely any punishment more dreadful than the blows I received on my face
and head from her hard heavy fist. She was a fearful woman, and a savage
mistress to her slaves.
There were two little slave boys in the house, on whom she vented her bad
temper in a special manner. One of these children was a mulatto, called
Cyrus, who had been bought while an infant in his mother's arms; the
other, Jack, was an African from the coast of Guinea, whom a sailor had
given or sold to my master. Seldom a day passed without these boys
receiving the most severe treatment, and often for no fault at all. Both
my master and mistress seemed to think that they had a right to ill-use
them at their pleasure; and very often accompanied their commands with
blows, whether the children were behaving well or ill. I have seen their
flesh ragged and raw with licks.--Lick--lick--they were never secure one
moment from a blow, and their lives were passed in continual fear. My
mistress was not contented with using the whip, but often pinched their
cheeks and arms in the most cruel manner. My pity for these poor boys was
soon transferred to myself; for I was licked, and flogged, and pinched by
her pitiless fingers in the neck and arms, exactly as they were. To strip