 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
V.
THE TRIALS OF GIRLHOOD.
During the first years of my service in Dr. Flint's
family, I was accustomed to share some indulgences
with the children of my mistress. Though this seemed
to me no more than right, I was grateful for it, and
tried to merit the kindness by the faithful discharge
of my duties. But I now entered on my fifteenth
year — a sad epoch in the life of a slave girl. My
master began to whisper foul words in my ear. Young
as I was, I could not remain ignorant of their import.
I tried to treat them with indifference or contempt.
The master's age, my extreme youth, and the fear that
his conduct would be reported to my grandmother,
made him bear this treatment for many months. He
was a crafty man, and resorted to many means to
accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy,
terrific ways, that made his victims tremble; sometimes
he assumed a gentleness that he thought must
surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his stormy
moods, although they left me trembling. He tried his
utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother
had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean
images, such as only a vile monster could think
of. I turned from him with disgust and hatred. But
he was my master. I was compelled to live under the
same roof with him — where I saw a man forty years
my senior daily violating the most sacred commandments
that I must be subject to his will in all things. My
soul revolted against the mean tyranny. But where
could I turn for protection? No matter whether the
slave girl be as black as ebony or as fair as her mistress.
In either case, there is no shadow of law to
protect her from insult, from violence, or even from
death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the
shape of men. The mistress, who ought to protect
the helpless victim, has no other feelings towards her
but those of jealousy and rage. The degradation, the
wrongs, the vices, that grow out of slavery, are more
than I can describe. They are greater than you would
willingly believe. Surely, if you credited one half the
truths that are told you concerning the helpless millions
suffering in this cruel bondage, you at the north
would not help to tighten the yoke. You surely would
refuse to do for the master, on your own soil, the mean
and cruel work which trained bloodhounds and the
lowest class of whites do for him at the south.
Every where the years bring to all enough of sin
and sorrow; but in slavery the very dawn of life is
darkened by these shadows. Even the little child,
who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and her
children, will learn, before she is twelve years old,
why it is that her mistress hates such and such a one
among the slaves. Perhaps the child's own mother
is among those hated ones. She listens to violent
outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot help understanding
what is the cause. She will become prematurely
knowing in evil things. Soon she will learn to
tremble when she hears her master's footfall. She
child. If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will
prove her greatest curse. That which commands admiration
in the white woman only hastens the degradation
of the female slave. I know that some are too
much brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of
their position; but many slaves feel it most acutely,
and shrink from the memory of it. I cannot tell how
much I suffered in the presence of these wrongs, nor
how I am still pained by the retrospect. My master
met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged
to him, and swearing by heaven and earth that he
would compel me to submit to him. If I went out for
a breath of fresh air, after a day of unwearied toil, his
footsteps dogged me. If I knelt by my mother's grave,
his dark shadow fell on me even there. The light
heart which nature had given me became heavy with
sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master's
house noticed the change. Many of them pitied me;
but none dared to ask the cause. They had no need
to inquire. They knew too well the guilty practices
under that roof; and they were aware that to speak
of them was an offence that never went unpunished.
I longed for some one to confide in. I would have
given the world to have laid my head on my grandmother's
faithful bosom, and told her all my troubles.
But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I was not as
silent as the grave. Then, although my grandmother
was all in all to me, I feared her as well as loved her.
I had been accustomed to look up to her with a respect
bordering upon awe. I was very young, and
felt shamefaced about telling her such impure things,
Moreover, she was a woman of a high spirit.
She was usually very quiet in her demeanor; but if
her indignation was once roused, it was not very
easily quelled. I had been told that she once chased
a white gentleman with a loaded pistol, because he
insulted one of her daughters. I dreaded the consequences
of a violent outbreak; and both pride and
fear kept me silent. But though I did not confide in
my grandmother, and even evaded her vigilant watchfulness
and inquiry, her presence in the neighborhood
was some protection to me. Though she had been a
slave, Dr. Flint was afraid of her. He dreaded her
scorching rebukes. Moreover, she was known and
patronized by many people; and he did not wish to
have his villany made public. It was lucky for me
that I did not live on a distant plantation, but in a
town not so large that the inhabitants were ignorant
of each other's affairs. Bad as are the laws and customs
in a slaveholding community, the doctor, as a
professional man, deemed it prudent to keep up some
outward show of decency.
O, what days and nights of fear and sorrow that
man caused me! Reader, it is not to awaken sympathy
for myself that I am telling you truthfully what
I suffered in slavery. I do it to kindle a flame of
compassion in your hearts for my sisters who are still
in bondage, suffering as I once suffered.
I once saw two beautiful children playing together.
One was a fair white child; the other was her slave,
and also her sister. When I saw them embracing
each other, and heard their joyous laughter, I turned
blight that would fall on the little slave's heart.
I knew how soon her laughter would be changed to
sighs. The fair child grew up to be a still fairer
woman. From childhood to womanhood her pathway
was blooming with flowers, and overarched by a sunny
sky. Scarcely one day of her life had been clouded
when the sun rose on her happy bridal morning.
How had those years dealt with her slave sister, the
little playmate of her childhood? She, also, was very
beautiful; but the flowers and sunshine of love were
not for her. She drank the cup of sin, and shame,
and misery, whereof her persecuted race are compelled
to drink.
In view of these things, why are ye silent, ye free
men and women of the north? Why do your tongues
falter in maintenance of the right? Would that I had
more ability! But my heart is so full, and my pen is
so weak! There are noble men and women who
plead for us, striving to help those who cannot help
themselves. God bless them! God give them strength
and courage to go on! God bless those, every where,
who are laboring to advance the cause of humanity!
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |