 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
I.
CHILDHOOD.
I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six
years of happy childhood had passed away. My father
was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent and
skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the
common line were to be erected, he was sent for from
long distances, to be head workman. On condition
of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and
supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his
trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest
wish was to purchase his children; but, though he
several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose,
he never succeeded. In complexion my parents
were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were
termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable
home; and, though we were all slaves, I was so
fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece
liable to be demanded of them at any moment. I had
one brother, William, who was two years younger
than myself — a bright, affectionate child. I had also
a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who
was a remarkable woman in many respects. She was
the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at
his death, left her mother and his three children free,
with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had
relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War; and
they were captured on their passage, carried back, and
sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my
grandmother used to tell me; but I do not remember
all the particulars. She was a little girl when she was
captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I
have often heard her tell how hard she fared during
childhood. But as she grew older she evinced so
much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master
and mistress could not help seeing it was for their
interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property.
She became an indispensable personage in the
household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and
wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for
her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous
in the neighborhood that many people were desirous
of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests
of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress
to bake crackers at night, after all the household
work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided
she would clothe herself and her children from
the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all
day for her mistress, she began her midnight bakings,
proved profitable; and each year she laid by a little,
which was saved for a fund to purchase her children.
Her master died, and the property was divided among
his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel,
which she continued to keep open. My grandmother
remained in her service as a slave; but her children
were divided among her master's children. As she
had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in
order that each heir might have an equal portion of
dollars and cents. There was so little difference in
our ages that he seemed more like my brother than
my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly
white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmother
had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty
dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible
blow to my grandmother; but she was naturally hopeful,
and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting
in time to be able to purchase some of her children.
She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her
mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to pay
her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise
or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for,
according to Southern laws, a slave, being property,
can hold no property. When my grandmother lent
her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely
to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave!
To this good grandmother I was indebted for many
comforts. My brother Willie and I often received
portions of the crackers, cakes, and preserves, she
made to sell; and after we ceased to be children we
Such were the unusually fortunate circumstances
of my early childhood. When I was six years old, my
mother died; and then, for the first time, I learned,
by the talk around me, that I was a slave. My mother's
mistress was the daughter of my grandmother's mistress.
She was the foster sister of my mother; they
were both nourished at my grandmother's breast. In
fact, my mother had been weaned at three months
old, that the babe of the mistress might obtain sufficient
food. They played together as children; and,
when they became women, my mother was a most
faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. On her
death-bed her mistress promised that her children
should never suffer for any thing; and during her
lifetime she kept her word. They all spoke kindly
of my dead mother, who had been a slave merely in
name, but in nature was noble and womanly. I
grieved for her, and my young mind was troubled
with the thought who would now take care of me and
my little brother. I was told that my home was now
to be with her mistress; and I found it a happy one.
No toilsome or disagreeable duties were imposed upon
me. My mistress was so kind to me that I was always
glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as
much as my young years would permit. I would sit
by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart
as free from care as that of any free-born white child.
When she thought I was tired, she would send me out
to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gather
berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were
no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight,
which too surely waits on every human being born to
be a chattel.
When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress
sickened and died. As I saw the cheek grow
paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayed
in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she
had been almost like a mother to me. My prayers
were not answered. She died, and they buried her
in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears
fell upon her grave.
I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother.
I was now old enough to begin to think of the future;
and again and again I asked myself what they would
do with me. I felt sure I should never find another
mistress so kind as the one who was gone. She had
promised my dying mother that her children should
never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered
that, and recalled her many proofs of attachment to
me, I could not help having some hopes that she had
left me free. My friends were almost certain it would
be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on
account of my mother's love and faithful service.
But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful
slave does not avail much to save her children from
the auction block.
After a brief period of suspense, the will of my
mistress was read, and we learned that she had bequeathed
me to her sister's daughter, a child of five
years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had
taught me the precepts of God's Word: “Thou shalt
that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto
them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did
not recognize me as her neighbor. I would give much
to blot out from my memory that one great wrong.
As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on
the happy days I spent with her, I try to think with
less bitterness of this act of injustice. While I was
with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for
this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a
slave, I bless her memory.
She possessed but few slaves; and at her death
those were all distributed among her relatives. Five
of them were my grandmother's children, and had
shared the same milk that nourished her mother's
children. Notwithstanding my grandmother's long
and faithful service to her owners, not one of her children
escaped the auction block. These God-breathing
machines are no more, in the sight of their masters,
than the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend.
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |