DEATH BED AND BRIDAL SCENES.
Neither Capt. Helm nor his wife made any religious pretensions. I hardly
know whether or not they were avowed infidels; but they alike ridiculed
all religious professions and possessed some very singular notions
regarding life and death.
I have often heard the Captain say, that no person need die unless they
choose to do so; and his wife was of the same belief. I have frequently
heard her remark that if mankind would firmly resist death it would flee
from them.
An opportunity, however, was soon after given to test the truth of this
strange dogma. Mrs. Helm's health began to decline, but she would pay no
attention to it, following her usual course and regular routine of
household duties; but all in vain; she was taken down, alarmingly ill, and
it became apparent to all, that the "king of terrors" had chosen his
victim. She tried with all her natural energy of character, to baffle
his pursuit and escape his steady approach, but all to no purpose. "The
valley and the shadow of death" were before her, and she had no assurance
that the "rod and staff" of the Almighty would sustain and comfort her
through the dark passage. She shrank with perfect horror from the untried
scenes of the future.
If any one had ever envied Mrs. Helm in her drawing-room, richly attired
and sparkling with jewels, or as she moved with the stately step of a
queen among her trembling slaves, they should have beheld her on her death
bed! They should have listened to her groans and cries for help, while one
piercing shriek after another rang through the princely mansion of which
she had been the absolute mistress!
[Illustration: "If any one had ever envied Mrs. Helm in her drawing-room,
richly attired and sparkling with jewels, or as she moved with the stately
step of a queen among her trembling slaves, they should have beheld her on
her death-bed!"]
Surrounded as she was with every elegance and luxury that wealth could
procure, she lay shrieking out her prayers for a short respite, a short
lengthening out of the life she had spent so unprofitably; her eyes
wandering restlessly about the apartment, and her hands continually
clinching the air, as if to grasp something that would prevent her from
sinking into the embrace of death! There was not a slave present, who
would have exchanged places with her. Not one of those over whom she had
ruled so arbitrarily would have exchanged their rough, lowly cabin and
quiet conscience, for all the wealth and power she had ever possessed.
Nothing of all she had enjoyed in life, nor all that she yet called her
own, could give her one hour of life or one peaceful moment in death!
Oh! what a scene was that! The wind blew, and great drops of rain fell on
the casements. The room lighted only with a single taper; the wretched
wife mingles her dying groans with the howling of the storm, until, as the
clock struck the hour of midnight she fell back upon her pillow and
expired, amid the tears and cries of her family and friends, who not only
deplored the loss of a wife and mother, but were grieved by the manner in
which she died.
The slaves were all deeply affected by the scene; some doubtless truly
lamented the death of their mistress; others rejoiced that she was no
more, and all were more or less frightened. One of them I remember went to
the pump and wet his face, so as to appear to weep with the rest.
What a field was opened for reflection, by the agonizing death of Mrs.
Helm? Born and reared in affluence; well educated and highly accomplished,
possessed of every means to become a useful woman and an ornament to her
sex; which she most likely would have been, had she been instructed in the
Christian religion, and had lived under a different influence. As
infidelity ever deteriorates from the female character, so Slavery
transforms more than one, otherwise excellent woman, into a feminine
monster. Of Mrs. Helm, with her active intellect and great force of
character, it made a tyrannical demon. Her race, however, is ended; her
sun gone down in darkness, and her soul we must leave in the keeping of a
righteous God, to whom we must all give an account for the deeds done in
the body. But in view of the transitory pleasures of this life; the
unsatisfactory realization of wealth, and the certainty of death, we may
well inquire, "What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose
his own soul?"
Some little time after the scene just recorded, there came to Bath a young
physician named Henry, who commenced practice under very flattering
prospects. He was an accomplished young man, well educated and very
skillful in his profession. He was affable and gay in his manners, and
very fond of company. An intimate acquaintance was soon formed with Capt.
Helm and family, and he called almost daily to chat and drink wine with
the Captain,--both being quite fond of a social glass.
One night in the depth of winter, the Doctor was called to see a patient
who lived six miles down the Conhocton river. Previous, however, to the
call, he had accepted an invitation to attend a party at Capt. Helm's,
and there he was found. They had music and dancing, while the wine passed
around very freely. None seemed to join in the dance and other amusements
of the evening with more enjoyment than did Dr. Henry; but after he was
sent for, it being a most bitter cold night, he asked the Captain for a
horse to ride to see his patient, to which he readily assented, and had
his fine _race-horse_ (for the Captain had not left off all his old
habits), brought out from the stable, and the Doctor sprang lightly into
the saddle. Unfortunately his way led by the race-course, and when the
trained animal came to it he started with such speed as to throw the
Doctor to the ground, where he lay all that terrible cold night. In the
morning, some person going after wood, came in sight of the Doctor as he
was trying to creep away on his frozen hands and feet. He was put into the
sleigh and taken to the village with all possible speed. All was done for
him that could be, but his feet and legs were frozen solid. His uncle, Dr.
Henry, was brought as soon as possible, who decided that nothing could
save his life but the amputation of both legs, just below the knee. This
was done; but what a change in the prospects of this promising young man!
Instead of stepping lightly about as he used to do, with a smiling
countenance, he at last came forth after a tedious confinement, a cripple
for life, hobbling about on his knees, sad and dejected. And what, think
you, was the cause of this terrible calamity? What prevented the Doctor
from an exertion to save his life? Wine, intoxicating wine, was
undoubtedly the occasion of the heedless and reckless conduct of both
himself and Capt. Helm. And should not this circumstance be a warning to
parents and guardians, to young men and children, "to look not upon the
wine when it is red," and remember that at last "it will bite like a
serpent and sting like an adder?" Should it not also remind those who have
guests to entertain, of the sinfulness of putting the cup to their
neighbor's lips? Certainly it should. But I must resume my story.
About this time Major Thornton of Bath, died. He had long been an intimate
friend and acquaintance of Capt. Helm, and as the reader is already
informed of the death of Mrs. Helm, they will not be surprised to know
that he began to look earnestly after the widow of his late friend. It
become apparent that his solicitude for the loneliness of Madam Thornton
was not so much as a disconsolate widow, as that of making her the future
Mrs. Helm; nor was it less observable that the new-made widow accepted the
Captain's attentions with great favor, and more as a lover than a
comforter.
The result was, after the Major had been dead six weeks, Capt. Helm was
married to his widow, and brought her and her servants in great triumph
to his house, giving her the charge of it. His own servants were
discharged, and hers took their places.
All went on pleasantly for a while; then the slaves began to grow sullen
and discontented; and two of them ran away. Capt. Helm started a man named
Morrison, a Scotchman, in pursuit, who hunted them ten days, and then
returned without any tidings of the absconding slaves. They made good
their escape and were never heard from afterwards, by those whose interest
suffered by the loss.
I was one afternoon at a neighbor's house in the village, when I was
suddenly taken so violently ill with pain in my head and side, that I had
to be carried home. When we arrived there, I was allowed a pallet of straw
to lie on, which was better than nothing. Day after day, my disease
increased in violence, and my master employed a physician to attend me
through my illness, which brought me very low indeed. I was constantly
burning with fever, and so thirsty that I knew not what I would have given
for a draught of cold water, which was denied me by the physician's
direction. I daily grew weaker until I was reduced to helplessness, and
was little else than "skin and bones." I really thought my time had come
to die; and when I had strength to talk, I tried to arrange the few little
business affairs I had, and give my father direction concerning them. And
then I began to examine my own condition before God, and to determine how
the case stood between Him and my poor soul. And "there was the rub." I
had often excused myself, for frequent derelictions in duty, and often
wild and passionate outbreaks, on account of the hardness of my lot, and
the injustice with which I was treated, even in my best endeavors to do as
well as I knew how. But now, with death staring me in the face, I could
see that though I was a friendless "slave-boy," I had _not_ always done as
well as I knew how; that I had _not_ served God as I knew I ought, nor had
I always set a good example before my fellow-slaves, nor warned them as
well as I might, "to flee the wrath to come." Then I prayed my Heavenly
Father to spare me a little longer, that I might serve Him better; and in
His mercy and gracious goodness, He did so; though when the fever was
turning they gave me up; and I could hear them say, when they came to feel
my pulse, "he is almost gone," "it will soon be over," &c., and then
inquire if I knew them. I did, but was too weak to say so. I recollect
with gratitude, the kindness of Mrs. H.A. Townsend, who sent me many
delicacies and cooling drinks to soften the rigor of my disease; and
though I suppose she has long since "passed away" and gone to her reward,
may the blessing of those who are ready to perish, rest upon the
descendants of that excellent woman.
Capt. Helm was driving on in his milling, distillery and farming business.
He now began to see the necessity of treating his slaves better by far
than he had ever done before, and granted them greater privileges than he
would have dared to do at the South. Many of the slaves he had sold, were
getting their liberty and doing well.