 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
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 escapel 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
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;
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,
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
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.
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.”
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |