 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
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
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
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
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
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!
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |