squarely, you will find yourself down the river before long, and there
you are only half-clad and half-fed, and flogged every day." Still I
made no reply. I knew that if I spoke truthfully, and as my heart
prompted, it would only redound to my misery. What right had I to speak
of my mother. She was no more than an animal, and as destitute of the
refinement of common human feeling--so I forbore to allude to her, or my
great desire to see her. I dared not speak of the horrible manner in
which my body had been cut and slashed, the half-lifeless condition in
which I had been taken from the accursed post, and all for a fault which
was not mine. These were things which, as they were done by my master's
commands, were nothing more than right; so with an effort, I controlled
my emotion, and checked the big tears which I felt were rushing up to my
eyes.
When I had put the finishing stroke to Miss Jane's hair, and whilst she
was surveying herself in a large French mirror, Miss Bradly came in.
Tossing her bonnet off, she kissed Miss Jane very affectionately, nodded
to me, and asked,
"Where is Tildy?"
"I don't know, somewhere about the house, I suppose," replied Miss Jane.
"Well, I have a new beau for her; now it will be a fine chance for
Tildy. I would have recommended you; but, knowing of your previous
engagement, I thought it best to refer him to the fair Matilda."
Miss Jane laughed, and answered, that "though she was engaged, she would
have no objections to trying her charms upon another beau."
There was a strange expression upon Miss Bradly's face, and a flurried,
excited manner, very different from her usually quiet demeanor.
Miss Jane went about the room collecting, here and there, a stray pocket
handkerchief, under-sleeve, or chemisette; and, dashing them toward me,
she said,
"Put these in wash, and do, pray, Ann, try to look more cheerful. Now,
Miss Emily," she added, addressing Miss Bradly, "we have the worst
servants in the world. There is Lindy, I believe the d--l is in her. She
is so strange in her actions. I have to repeat a thing three or four
times before she will understand me; and, as for Ann, she looks so
sullen that it gives one the horrors to see her. I've a notion to bring
Amy into the house. In the kitchen she is of no earthly service, and
doesn't earn her salt. I think I'll persuade pa to sell some of these
worthless niggers. They are no profit, and a terrible expense."
Thereupon she was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Tildy, whose face
was unusually excited. She did not perceive Miss Bradly, and so broke
forth in a torrent of invectives against "niggers."
"I hate them. I wish this place were rid of every black face. Now we
can't find that wretched Lindy anywhere, high nor low. Let me once get
hold of her, and I'll be bound she shall remember it to the day of her
death. Oh! Miss Bradly, is that you? pray excuse me for not recognizing
you sooner; but since pa's sickness, these wretched negroes have
half-taken the place, and I shouldn't be surprised if I were to forget
myself," and with a kiss she seemed to think she had atoned to Miss
Bradly for her forgetfulness.
To all of this Miss B. made no reply, I fancied (perhaps it was only
fancy) that there was a shade of discontent upon her face; but she still
preserved her silence, and Miss Tildy waxed warmer and warmer in her
denunciation of ungrateful "niggers."
"Now, here, ours have every wish gratified; are treated well, fed well,
clothed well, and yet we can't get work enough out of them to justify us
in retaining our present number. As soon as pa gets well I intend to
urge upon him the necessity of selling some of them. It is really too
outrageous for us to be keeping such a number of the worthless wretches;
actually eating us out of house and home. Besides, our family expenses
are rapidly increasing. Brother must be sent off to college. It will not
do to have his education neglected. I really am becoming quite ashamed
of his want of preparation for a profession. I wish him sent to Yale,
after first receiving a preparatory course in some less noted
seminary,--then he will require a handsome outfit of books, and a
wardrobe inferior to none at the institution; for, Miss Emily, I am
determined our family shall have a position in every circle." As Miss
Tildy pronounced these words, she stamped her foot in the most emphatic
way, as if to confirm and ratify her determination.
"Yes," said Miss Jane, "I was just telling Miss Emily of our plans; and
I think we may as well bring Amy in the house. She is of no account in
the kitchen, and Lindy, Ginsy, and those brats, can be sold for a very
pretty sum if taken to the city of L----, and put upon the block, or
disposed of to some wealthy trader."
"What children?" asked Miss Bradly.
"Why, Amy's two sisters and brother, and Ginsy's child, and Ginsy too,
if pa will let her go."
My heart ached well-nigh to bursting, when I heard this. Poor, poor Amy,
child-sufferer! another drop of gall added to thy draught of
wormwood--another thorn added to thy wearing crown. Oh, God! how I
shuddered for the victim.
Miss Jane went on in her usual heartless tone. "It is expensive to keep
them; they are no account, no profit to us; and young niggers are my
'special aversion. I have, for a long time, intended separating Amy from
her two little sisters; she doesn't do anything but nurse that sickly
child, Ben, and it is scandalous. You see, Miss Emily, we want an arbor
erected in the yard, and a conservatory, and some new-style table
furniture."
"Yes, and I want a set of jewels, and a good many additions to my
wardrobe, and Jane wishes to spend a winter in the city. She will be
forced to have a suitable outfit."
"Yes, and I am going to have everything I want, if the farm is to be
sold," said Miss Jane, in a voice that no one dared to gainsay.
"But come, let me tell you, Tildy, about the new beau I have for you,"
said Miss Bradly.
Instantly Miss Tildy's eyes began to glisten. The word "beau" was the
ready "sesame" to her good humor.
"Oh, now, dear, good Miss Emily, tell me something about him. Who is he?
where from?" &c.
Miss Bradly smiled, coaxingly and lovingly, as she answered:
"Well, Tildy, darling, I have a friend from the North, who is travelling
for pleasure through the valley of the Mississippi; and I promised to
introduce him to some of the pretty ladies of the West; so, of course, I
feel pride in introducing my two pupils to him."
This was a most agreeable sedative to their ill-nature; and both sisters
came close to Miss Bradly, fairly covering her with caresses, and
addressing to her words of flattery.
As soon as my services were dispensed with I repaired to the kitchen,
where I found Aunt Polly in no very good or amiable mood. Something had
gone wrong about the arrangements for supper. The chicken was not brown
enough, or the cakes were heavy; something troubled her, and as a
necessary consequence her temper was suffering.
"I's in an orful humor, Ann, so jist don't come nigh me."
"Well, but, Aunt Polly, we should learn to control these humors. They
are not the dictates of a pure spirit; they are unchristian."
"Oh, laws, chile, what hab us to do wid der Christians? We are like dem
poor headens what de preachers prays 'bout. We haint got no
'sponsibility, no more den de dogs."
"I don't think that way, Aunt Polly; I think I am as much bound to do my
duty, and expect a reward at the hands of my Maker, as any white
person."
"Oh, 'taint no use of talkin' dat ar' way, kase ebery body knows niggers
ain't gwine to de same place whar dar massers goes."
I dared not confront her obstinacy with any argument; for I knew she was
unwilling to believe. Poor, apathetic creature! she was happier in
yielding up her soul to the keeping of her owner, than she would have
been in guiding it herself. This to me would have been enslavement
indeed; such as I could not have endured. He, my Creator, who gave me
this heritage of thought, and the bounty of Hope, gave me, likewise, a
strong, unbridled will, which nothing can conquer. The whip may bring my
body into subjection, but the free, free spirit soars where it lists,
and no man can check it. God is with the soul! aye, in it, animating and
encouraging it, sustaining it amid the crash, conflict, and the
elemental war of passion! The poor, weak flesh may yield; but, thanks to
God! the soul, well-girded and heaven-poised, will never shrink.
Many and long have been the unslumbering nights when I have lain upon my
heap of straw, gazing at the pallid moon, and the sorrowful stars;
weaving mystic fancies as the wailing night-wind seemed to bring me a
message from the distant and the lost! I have felt whole vials of
heavenly unction poured upon my bruised soul; rich gifts have descended,
like the manna of old, upon my famishing spirit; and I have felt that
God was nearer to me in the night time. I have imagined that the very
atmosphere grew luminous with the presence of angelic hosts; and a
strange music, audible alone to my ears, has lulled me to the gentlest
of dreams! God be thanked for the night, the stars, and the spirit's
vision! Joy came not to me with the breaking of the morn; but peace,
undefined, enwrapped me when the mantle of darkness and the crown of
stars attested the reign of Night!
I grieved to think that my poor friend, this old, lonely negress, had
nothing to soothe and charm her wearied heart. There was not a single
flower blooming up amid the rank weeds of her nature. Hard and rocky it
seemed; yet had I found the prophet's wand, whereby to strike the flinty
heart, and draw forth living waters! pure, genial draughts of
kindliness, sweet honey-drops, hived away in the lonely cells of her
caverned soul! I would have loved to give her a portion of that peace
which radiated with its divine light the depths of my inmost spirit. I
had come to her now for the purpose of giving her the sad intelligence
that awaited poor Amy; but I did not find her in a suitable mood. I felt
assured that her harshness would, in some way or other, jar the finer
and more sensitive harmonies of my nature. Perhaps she would say that
she did not care for the sufferings of the poor, lonely child; and that
her bereavement would be nothing more than just; yet I knew that she did
not feel thus. Deep in her secret soul there lay folded a white-winged
angel, even as the uncomely bulb envelopes the fair petals of the lily;
and I longed for the summer warmth of kindness to bid it come forth and
bloom in beauty.
But now I turned away from her, murmuring, "'Tis not the time." She
would not open her heart, and my own must likewise be closed and silent;
but when I met poor little Amy, looking so neglected, with scarcely
apparel sufficient to cover her nudity, my heart failed me utterly.
There she held upon her hip little Ben, her only joy; every now and then
she addressed some admonitory words to him, such as "Hush, baby, love,"
"you's my baby," "sissy loves it," and similar expressions of coaxing
and endearment. And this, her only comfort, was about to be wrenched
from her. The only link of love that bound her to a weary existence, was
to be severed by the harsh mandate of another. Just God! is this right?
Oh, my soul, be thou still! Look on in patience! The cloud deepens
above! The day of God's wrath is at hand! They who have coldly forbidden
our indulging the sweet humanities of life, who have destroyed every
social relation, severed kith and kin, ruptured the ties of blood, and
left us more lonely than the beasts of the forest, may tremble when the
avenger comes!
I ventured to speak with Amy, and I employed the kindest tone; but ever
and anon little Ben would send forth such a piteous wail, that I feared
he was in physical pain. Amy, however, very earnestly assured me that
she had administered catnip tea in plentiful quantities, and had
examined his person very carefully to discover if a pin or needle had
punctured his flesh; but everything seemed perfectly right.
I attempted to take him in my arms; but he clung so vigorously to Amy's
shoulder, that it required strength to unfasten his grasp.
"Oh, don'tee take him; he doesn't like fur to leab me. Him usen to me,"
cried Amy, as in a motherly way she caressed him. "Now, pretty little
boy donee cry any more. Ann shan't hab you;--now be a good nice boy;"
and thus she expended upon him her whole vocabulary of endearing
epithets.
"Who could," I asked myself, "have the heart to untie this sweet
fraternal bond? Who could dry up the only fountain in this benighted
soul? Oh, I have often marvelled how the white mother, who knows, in
such perfection, the binding beauty of maternal love, can look
unsympathizingly on, and see the poor black parent torn away from her
children. I once saw a white lady, of conceded _refinement_, sitting in
the portico of her own house, with her youngest born, a babe of some
seven months, dallying on her knee, and she toying with the pretty
gold-threads of its silken hair, whilst her husband was in the kitchen,
with a whip in his hand, severely lashing a negro woman, whom he had
sold to a trader--lashing her because she refused to go _cheerfully_ and
leave her infant behind. The poor wretch, as a last resource, fled to
her Mistress, and, on her knees, begged her to have her child. "Oh,
Mistress," cried the frantic black woman, "ask Master to let me take my
baby with me." What think you was the answer of this white mother?
"Go away, you impudent wretch, you don't deserve to have your child. It
will be better off away from you!" Aye, this was the answer which,
accompanied by a derisive sneer, she gave to the heart-stricken black
mother. Thus she felt, spoke, and acted, even whilst caressing her own
helpless infant! Who would think it injustice to "commend the
poison-chalice to her own lips"? She, this fine lady, was known to weep
violently, because an Irish woman was unable to save a sufficiency of
money from her earnings to bring her son from Ireland to America; but,
for the African mother, who was parting eternally from her helpless
babe, she had not so much as a consolatory word. Oh, ye of the proud
Caucasian race, would that your hearts were as fair and spotless as your
complexions! Truly can the Saviour say of you, "Oh, Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, I would have gathered you together as a hen gathereth her
chickens, but ye would not!" Oh, perverse generation of vipers, how long
will you abuse the Divine forbearance!
CHAPTER IX.
LINDY'S BOLDNESS--A SUSPICION--THE MASTER'S ACCOUNTABILITY--THE YOUNG
REFORMER--WORDS OF HOPE--THE CULTIVATED MULATTO--THE DAWN OF AMBITION.
In about an hour Lindy came in, looking very much excited, yet
attempting to conceal it beneath the mask of calmness. I affected not to
notice it, yet was it evident, from various little attentions and
manifold kind words, that she sought to divert suspicion, and avoid all
questioning as to her absence.
"Where," she asked me, "are the young ladies? have they company?"
"Yes," I replied, "Miss Bradly is with them, and they are expecting a
young gentleman, an acquaintance of Miss B.'s."
"Who is he?"
"Why, Lindy, how should I know?"
"I thought maybe you hearn his name."
"No, I did not, and, even if I had, it would have been so unimportant to
me that I should have forgotten it."
She opened her eyes with a vacant stare, but it was perceptible that she
wandered in thought.
"Now, Lindy," I began, "Miss Jane has missed you from the house, and
both she and Miss Tildy have sworn vengeance against you."
"So have I sworn it agin' them."
"What! what did you say, Lindy?"
Really I was surprised at the girl's hardihood and boldness. She had
been thrown from her guard, and now, upon regaining her composure, was
alarmed.
"Oh, I was only joking, Ann; you knows we allers jokes."
"I never do," I said, with emphasis.
"Yes, but den, Ann, you see you is one ob de quare uns."
"What do you mean by quare?" I asked.
"Oh, psha, 'taint no use ob talkin wid you, for you is good; but kum,
tell me, is dey mad wid me in de house, and did dey say dey would beat
me?"
"Well, they threatened something of the kind."
Her face grew ashen pale; it took that peculiar kind of pallor which the
negro's face often assumes under the influence of fear or disease, and
which is so disagreeable to look upon. Enemy of mine as she had deeply
proven herself to be, I could not be guilty of the meanness of exulting
in her trouble.
"But," she said, in an imploring tone, "you will not repeat what I jist
said in fun."
"Of course I will not; but don't you remember that it was your falsehood
that gained for me the only post-whipping that I ever had?"
"Yes; but den I is berry sorry fur dat, and will not do it any more."
This was enough for me. An acknowledgment of contrition, and a
determination to do better, are all God requires of the offender; and
shall poor, erring mortals demand more? No; my resentment was fully
satisfied. Besides, I felt that this poor creature was not altogether
blamable. None of her better feelings had been cultivated; they were
strangled in their incipiency, whilst her savage instincts were left to
run riot. Thus the bad had ripened into a full and noxious development,
whilst the noble had been crushed in the bud. Who is to be answerable
for the short-comings of such a soul? Surely he who has cut it off from
all moral and mental culture, and has said to the glimmerings of its
faint intellect, "Back, back to the depths of darkness!" Surely he will
and must take upon himself the burden of accountability. The sin is at
his door, and woe-worth the day, when the great Judge shall come to pass
sentence upon him. I have often thought that the master of slaves must,
for consistency's sake, be an infidel--or doubt man's exact
accountability to God for the deeds done in the body; for how can he
willingly assume the sins of some hundreds of souls? In the eye of human
law, the slave has no responsibility; the master assumes all for him. If
the slave is found guilty of a capital offence, punishable with death,
the master is indemnified by a paid valuation, for yielding up the
person of the slave to the demands of offended justice? If a slave earns
money by his labors at night or holidays, or if he is the successful
holder of a prize ticket in a lottery, his master can legally claim the
money, and there is no power to gainsay him? If, then, human law
recognizes a negro as irresponsible, how much more lenient and just will
be the divine statute? Thus, I hold (and I cannot think there is just
logician, theologian, or metaphysician, who will dissent), that the
owner of slaves becomes sponsor to God for the sins of his slave; and I
cannot, then, think that one who accredits the existence of a just God,
a Supreme Ruler, to whom we are all responsible for our deeds and words,
would willingly take upon himself the burden of other people's faults
and transgressions.
Whilst I stood talking with Lindy, the sound of merry laughter reached
our ears.
"Oh, dat is Miss Tildy, now is my time to go in, and see what dey will
say to me; maybe while dey is in a good humor, dey will not beat me."
And, thus saying, Lindy hurried away. Sad thoughts were crowding in my
mind. Dark misgivings were stirring in my brain. Again I thought of the
blessed society, with its humanitarian hope and aim, that dwelt afar off
in the north. I longed to ask Miss Bradly more about it. I longed to
hear of those holy men, blessed prophets foretelling a millennial era
for my poor, down-trodden and despised race. I longed to ask questions
of her; but of late she had shunned me; she scarcely spoke to me; and
when she did speak, it was with indifference, and a degree of coldness
that she had never before assumed.
With these thoughts in my mind I stole along through the yard, until I
stood almost directly under the window of the parlor. Something in the
tone of a strange voice that reached my ear, riveted my attention. It
was a low, manly tone, lute-like, yet swelling on the breeze, and
charming the soul! It refreshed my senses like a draught of cooling
water. I caught the tone, and could not move from the spot. I was
transfixed.
"I do not see why Fred Douglas is not equal to the best man in the land.
What constitutes worth of character? What makes the man? What gives
elevation to him?" These were the words I first distinctly heard, spoken
in a deep, earnest tone, which I have never forgotten. I then heard a
silly laugh, which I readily recognized as Miss Jane's, as she answered,
"You can't pretend to say that you would be willing for a sister of
yours to marry Fred Douglas, accomplished as you consider him?"
"I did not speak of marrying at all; and might I not be an advocate of
universal liberty, without believing in amalgamation? Yet, it is a
question whether even amalgamation should be forbidden by law. The negro
is a different race; but I do not know that they have other than human
feelings and emotions. The negroes are, with us, the direct descendants
from the great progenitor of the human family, old Adam. They may, when
fitted by education, even transcend us in the refinements and graces
which adorn civilized character. In loftiness of purpose, in mental
culture, in genius, in urbanity, in the exercise of manly virtues, such
as fortitude, courage, and philanthropy, where will you show me a man
that excels Fred Douglas? And must the mere fact of his tawny complexion
exclude him from the pale of that society which he is so eminently
fitted to grace? Might I not (if it were made a question) prefer uniting
my sister's fate with such a man, even though partially black, to seeing
her tied to a low fellow, a wine-bibber, a swearer, a villain, who
possessed not one cubit of the stature of true manhood, yet had a
complexion white as snow? Ah, Miss, it is not the skin which gives us
true value as men and women; 'tis the momentum of mind and the purity of
morals, the integrity of purpose and nobility of soul, that make our
place in the scale of being. I care not if the skin be black as Erebus
or fair and smooth as satin, so the heart and mind be right. I do not
deal in externals or care for surfaces."
These words were as the bread of life to me. I could scarcely resist the
temptation to leave my hiding-place and look in at the open window, to
get sight of the speaker; surely, I thought, he must wear the robes of a
prophet. I could not very distinctly hear what Miss Jane said in reply.
I could catch many words, such as "nigger" and "marry" "white lady," and
other expressions used in an expostulatory voice; but the platitudes
which she employed would not have answered the demand of my higher
reason. Old perversions and misinterpretations of portions of the Bible,
such as the story of Hagar, and the curse pronounced upon Ham, were
adduced by Miss Jane and Miss Tildy in a tone of triumph.
"Oh, I sicken over these stories," said the same winning voice. "How
long will Christians willingly resist the known truth? How long will
they bay at heaven with their cruel blasphemies? For I hold it to be
blasphemy when a body of Christians, professing to be followers of Him
who came from heaven to earth, and assumed the substance of humanity to
teach us a lesson, argue thus. Our Great Model declares that 'He came
not to be ministered unto but to minister.' He inculcated practically
the lesson of humility in the washing of the disciples' feet; yet, these
His modern disciples, the followers of to-day, preach, even from the
sacred desk, the right of men to hold their fellow-creatures in bondage
through endless generations, to sell them for gold, to beat them, to
keep them in a heathenish ignorance; and yet declare that it all has the
divine sanction. Verily, oh night of Judaism, thou wast brighter than
this our noon-day of Christianity! Black and bitter is the account, oh
Church of God, that thou art gathering to thyself! I could pray for a
tongue of inspiration, wherewith to denounce this foul crime. I could
pray for the power to show to my country the terrible stain she has
painted upon the banner of freedom. How dare we, as Americans, boast of
this as the home and temple of liberty? Where are the 'inalienable
rights' of which our Constitution talks in such trumpet-tones? Does not
our Declaration of Independence aver, that all men are born free and
equal? Now, do we not make this a practical falsehood? Let the poor
slave come up to the tribunal of justice, and ask the wise judge upon
the bench to interpret this piece of plain English to him! How would the
man of ermine blush at his own quibbles?"
I could tell from the speaker's voice that he had risen from his seat,
and I knew, from the sound of footsteps, that he was approaching the
window. I crouched down lower and lower, in order to conceal myself from
observation, but gazed up to behold one whose noble sentiments and bold
expression of them had so entranced me.
Very noble looked he, standing there, with the silver moonlight beaming
upon his broad, white brow, and his deep, blue eye uplifted to the
star-written skies. His features were calm and classic in their mould,
and a mystic light seemed to idealize and spiritualize his face and
form. Kneeling down upon the earth, I looked reverently to him, as the
children of old looked upon their prophets. He did not perceive me, and
even if he had, what should I have been to him--a pale-browed student,
whose thought, large and expansive, was filled with the noble, the
philanthropic, and the great. Yet, there I crouched in fear and
trembling, lest a breath should betray my secret place. But, would not
his extended pity have embraced me, even me, a poor, insignificant,
uncared-for thing in the great world--one who bore upon her face the
impress of the hated nation? Ay, I felt that he would not have condemned
me as one devoid of the noble impulse of a heroic humanity. If the
African has not heroism, pray where will you find it? Are there, in the
high endurance of the heroes of old Sparta, sufferings such as the
unchronicled life of many a slave can furnish forth? Martyrs have gone
to the stake; but amid the pomp and sounding psaltery of a choir, and
above the flame, the fagot and the scaffold, they descried the immortal
crown, and even the worldly and sensuous desire of canonization may not
have been dead with them. The patriot braves the battle, and dies amid
the thickest of the carnage, whilst the jubilant strains of music herald
him away. The soldier perishes amid the proud acclaim of his countrymen;
but the poor negro dies a martyr, unknown, unsung, and uncheered. Many
expire at the whipping-post, with the gleesome shouts of their inhuman
tormentors, as their only cheering. Yet few pity us. We are valuable
only as property. Our lives are nothing, and our souls--why they
scarcely think we have any. In reflecting upon these things, in looking
calmly back over my past life, and in reviewing the lives of many who
are familiar to me, I have felt that the Lord's forbearance must indeed
be great; and when thoughts of revenge have curdled my blood, the prayer
of my suffering Saviour: "Father forgive them, for they know not what
they do," has flashed through my mind, and I have repelled them as angry
and unchristian. Jesus drank the wormwood and the gall; and we, oh,
brethren and sisters of the banned race, must "tread the wine-press
alone." We must bear firmly upon the burning ploughshare, and pass
manfully through the ordeal, for vengeance is His and He will repay.
But there, in the sweet moonlight, as I looked upon this young apostle
of reform, a whole troop of thoughts less bitter than these swept over
my mind. There were gentle dreamings of a home, a quiet home, in that
Northland, where, at least, we are countenanced as human beings. "Who,"
I asked myself, "is this mysterious Fred Douglas?" A black man he
evidently was; but how had I heard him spoken of? As one devoted to
self-culture in its noblest form, who ornamented society by his imposing
and graceful bearing, who electrified audiences with the splendor of his
rhetoric, and lured scholars to his presence by the fame of his
acquirements; and this man, this oracle of lore, was of my race, of my
blood. What he had done, others might achieve. What a high determination
then fired my breast! Give, give me but the opportunity, and my chief
ambition will be to prove that we, though wronged and despised, are not
inferior to the proud Caucasians. I will strive to redeem from unjust
aspersion the name of my people. He, this illustrious stranger, gave the
first impetus to my ambition; from him my thoughts assumed a form, and
one visible aim now possessed my soul.
How long I remained there listening I do not remember, for soon the
subject of conversation was changed, and I noted not the particular
words; but that mournfully musical voice had a siren-charm for my ear,
and I could not tear myself away. Whilst listening to it, sweet sleep,
like a shielding mantle, fell upon me.
CHAPTER X.
THE CONVERSATION IN WHICH FEAR AND SUSPICION ARE AROUSED--THE YOUNG
MASTER.
It must have been long after midnight when I awoke. I do not remember
whether I had dreamed or not, but the slumber had brought refreshment to
my body and peace to my heart.
I was aroused by the sound of voices, in a suppressed whisper, or rather
in a tone slightly above a whisper. I thought I detected the voice of
Lindy, and, as I rose from my recumbent posture, I caught sight of a
figure flitting round the gable of the house. I followed, but there was
nothing visible. The pale moonlight slept lovingly upon the dwelling and
the roofs of the out-buildings. Whither could the figure have fled?
There was no sign of any one having been there. Slowly and sadly I
directed my steps toward Aunt Polly's cabin. I opened the door
cautiously, not wishing to disturb her; but easy and noiseless as were
my motions, they roused that faithful creature. She sprang from the bed,
exclaiming:
"La, Ann, whar has yer bin? I has bin so oneasy 'bout yer."
With my native honesty I explained to her that I had been beguiled by
the melody of a human voice, and had lingered long out in the autumn
moonlight.
"Yes; but, chile, you'll be sick. Sleepin' out a doors is berry
onwholesome like."
"Yes; but, Aunt Polly, there is an interior heat which no autumnal frost
has power to chill."
"Yes, chile, you does talk so pretty, like dem ar' great white
scholards. Many times I has wondered how a poor darkie could larn so
much. Now it 'pears to me as if you knowed much as any ob 'em. I don't
tink Miss Bradly hersef talks any better dan you does."
"Oh, Aunt Polly, your praise is sweet to me; but then, you must remember
not to do me more than justice. I am a poor, illiterate mulatto girl,
who has indeed improved the modicum of time allowed her for
self-culture; yet, when I hear such ladies as Miss Bradly talk, I feel
how far inferior I am to the queens of the white tribe. Often I ask
myself why is this? Is it because my face is colored? But then there is
a voice, deep down in my soul, that rejects such a conclusion as
slanderous. Oh, give me but opportunity, and I will strive to equal them
in learning."
"I don't see no use in yer wanting to larn, when you is nothing but a
poor slave. But I does think the gift of fine speech mighty valable."
And here is another thing upon which I would generalize. Does it not
argue the possession of native mind--the immense value the African
places upon words--the high-flown and broad-sounding words that he
usually employs? The ludicrous attempts which the most untutored make at
grandiloquence, should not so much provoke mirth as admiration in the
more reflective of the white race. Through what barriers and obstacles
do not their minds struggle to force a way up to the light. I have often
been astonished at the quickness with which they seized upon
expressions, and the accuracy with which they would apply them. Every
crude attempt which they make toward self-culture is laughed at and
scorned by the master, or treated as the most puerile folly. No
encouragement is given them. If, by almost superhuman effort, they gain
knowledge, why they may; but, unaided and alone, they must work, as I
have done. Moreover, I have been wonder-stricken at the facility with
which the negro-boy acquires learning. 'Tis as though the rudiments of
the school came to him by flashes of intuition. He is allowed only a
couple of hours on Sunday afternoons for recitations, and such odd
moments during the week as he can catch to prepare his lessons; for, a
servant-boy often caught with his book in hand, would be pronounced
indolent, and punished as such. Then, how unjust it is for the proud
statesman--prouder of his snowy complexion than of his stores of
knowledge--how unjust, I say, is it in him to assert, in the halls of
legislation, that the colored race are to the white far inferior in
native mind! Has he weighed the advantages and disadvantages of both?
Has he remembered that the whites, through countless generations, have
been cultivated and refined--familiarized with the arts and sciences and
elegancies of a graceful age, whilst the blacks are bound down in
ignorance; unschooled in lore; untrained in virtue; taught to look upon
themselves as degraded--the mere drudges of their masters; debarred the
privileges of social life; excluded from books, with the products of
their labor going toward the enrichment of others? When, as in some
solitary instance, a single mind dares to break through the restraints
and impediments imposed upon it, does not the fact show of what strength
the race, when properly cared for, is capable? Is not the bulb, which
enshrouds the snowy leaves of the fragrant lily, an unsightly thing?
Does the uncut diamond show any of the polish and brilliancy which the
lapidary's hand can give it? Thus is it with the African mind. Let but
the schoolmen breathe upon it, let the architect of learning fashion it,
and no diamond ever glittered with more resplendence. With a more than
prismatic light, it will refract the beams of the sun of knowledge; and
the heart, the most noble African's heart, that now slumbers in the bulb
of ignorance, will burst forth, pure and lovely as the white-petaled
lily!
I hope, kind reader, you will pardon these digressions, as I write my
inner as well as outer life, and I should be unfaithful to my most
earnest thoughts were I not to chronicle such reflections as these. This
book is not a wild romance to beguile your tears and cheat your fancy.
No; it is the truthful autobiography of one who has suffered long, long,
the pains and trials of slavery. And she is committing her story, with
her own calm deductions, to the consideration of every thoughtful and
truth-loving mind.
"Where," I asked Aunt Polly, "is Lindy?"
"Oh, chile, I doesn't know whar dat gal is. Sompen is de matter wid
her. She bin flyin' round here like somebody out ob dar head. All's not
right wid her, now you mark my words fur it."
I then related to her the circumstance which had occurred whilst I was
under the window.
"I does jist know dat was Lindy! You didn't see who she was talkin'
wid?"
"No; and I did not distinctly discern her form; but the voice I am
confident was her's."
"Well, sompen is gwine to happen; kase Lindy is berry great coward, and
I well knows 'twas sompen great dat would make her be out dar at
midnight."
"What do you think it means?" I asked.
"Why, lean up close to me, chile, while I jist whisper it low like to
you. I believe Lindy is gwine to run off."
I started back in terror. I felt the blood grow cold in my veins. Why,
if she made such an attempt as this, the whole country would be scoured
for her. Hot pursuers would be out in every direction. And then her
flight would render slavery ten times more severe for us. Master would
believe that we were cognizant of it, and we should be put to torture
for the purpose of wringing from us something in regard to her. Then,
apprehension of our following her example would cause the reins of
authority to be even more tightly drawn. What wonder, then, that fright
possessed our minds, as the horrid suspicion began to assume something
like reality. We regarded each other in silent horror. The dread
workings of the fiend of fear were visible in the livid hue which
overspread my companion's face and shone in the glare of her aged eye.
She clasped her skinny hands together, and cried,
"Oh, my chile, orful times is comin' fur us. While Lindy will be off in
that 'lightful Canady, we will be here sufferin' all sorts of trouble.
Oh, de Lord, if dar be any, hab marcy on us!"
"Oh, Aunt Polly, don't say 'if there be any;' for, so certain as we both
sit here, there is a Lord who made us, and who cares for us, too. We
are as much the children of His love as are the whites."
"Oh Lord, chile, I kan't belieb it; fur, if he loves us, why does he
make us suffer so, an' let de white folks hab such an easy time?"
"He has some wise purpose in it. And then in that Eternity which
succeeds the grave, He will render us blest and happy."
The clouds of ignorance hung too thick and close around her mind; and
the poor old woman did not see the justice of such a decree. She was not
to blame if, in her woeful ignorance, she yielded to unbelief; and, with
a profanity which knowledge would have rebuked, dared to boldly question
the Divine Purpose. This sin, also, is at the white man's door.
I did not strive further to enlighten her; for, be it confessed, I was
myself possessed by physical fear to an unwonted degree. I did not think
of courting sleep. The brief dream which had fallen upon me as I slept
beneath the parlor window, had given me sufficient refreshment. And as
for Aunt Polly, she was too much frightened to think of sleep. Talk we
did, long and earnestly. I mentioned to her what I had heard Misses
Tildy and Jane say in regard to Amy.
"Poor thing," exclaimed Aunt Polly, "she'll not be able to stand it, for
her heart is wrapped up in dat ar' chile's. She 'pears like its mother."
"I hope they may change their intentions," I ventured to say.
"No; neber. When wonst Miss Jane gets de notion ob finery in her head,
she is gwine to hab it. Lord lub you, Ann, I does wish dey would sell
you and me."
"So do I," was my fervent reply.
"But dey will neber sell you, kase Miss Jane tinks you is good-lookin',
an' I hearn her say she would like to hab a nice-lookin' maid. You see
she tinks it is 'spectable."
"I suppose I must bear my cross and crown of thorns with patience."
Just then little Ben groaned in his sleep, and quickly his ever-watchful
guardian was aroused; she bent over him, soothing his perturbed sleep
with a low song. Many were the endearing epithets which she employed,
such as, "Pretty little Benny, nothing shall hurt you." "Bless your
little heart," and "here I is by yer side," "I'll keep de bars way frum
yer."
"Poor child," burst involuntarily from my lips, as I reflected that even
that one only treasure would soon be taken from her; then in what a
hopeless eclipse would sink every ray of mind. Hearing my exclamation,
she sprung up, and eagerly asked,
"What is de matter, Ann? Why is you and Aunt Polly sittin' up at dis
time ob of de night? It's most day; say, is anything gwine on?"
"Nothing at all," I answered, "only Aunt Polly does not feel very well,
and I am sitting up talking with her."
Thus appeased, she returned to her bed (if such a miserable thing could
be called a bed), and was soon sleeping soundly.
Aunt Polly wiped her eyes as she said to me,
"Ann, doesn't we niggers hab to bar a heap? We works hard, and gits
nothing but scanty vittels, de scraps dat de white folks leabes, and den
dese miserable old rags dat only half kevers our nakedness. I declare it
is too hard to bar."
"Yes," I answered, "it is hard, very hard, and enough to shake the
endurance of the most determined martyr; yet, often do I repeat to
myself those divine words, 'The cup which my Father has given me will I
drink;' and then I feel calmed, strong, and heroic."
"Oh, Ann, chile, you does talk so beautiful, an' you has got de rale
sort ob religion."
"Oh, would that I could think so. Would that my soul were more patient.
I am not sufficiently hungered and athirst after righteousness. I pant
too much for the joys of earth. I crave worldly inheritance, whilst the
Christian's true aim should be for the mansions of the blest."
Thus wore on the night in social conversation, and I forgot, in that
free intercourse, that there was a difference between us. The heart
takes not into consideration the distinction of mind. Love banishes all
thought of rank or inequality. By her kindness and confidence, this old
woman made me forget her ignorance.
When the first red streak of day began to announce the slow coming of
the sun, Aunt Polly was out, and about her breakfast arrangements.
Since the illness of Master, and the departure of Mr. Jones, things had
not gone on with the same precision as before. There was a few minutes
difference in the blowing of the horn; and, for offences like these,
Master had sworn deeply that "every nigger's hide" should be striped, as
soon as he was able to preside at the "post." During his sickness he had
not allowed one of us to enter his room; "for," as he said to the
doctor, "a cussed nigger made him feel worse, he wanted to be up and
beatin' them. They needed the cowhide every breath they drew." And, as
the sapient doctor decided that our presence had an exciting effect upon
him, we were banished from his room. "_Banished!_--what's banished but
set free!"
Now, when I rose from my seat, and bent over the form of Amy, and
watched her as she lay wrapt in a profound sleep, with one arm
encircling little Ben, and the two sisters, Jane and Luce, lying close
to her--so dependent looked the three, as they thus huddled round their
young protectress, so loving and trustful in that deep repose, that I
felt now would be a good time for the angel Death to come--now, before
the fatal fall of the Damoclesian sword, whose hair thread was about to
snap: but no--Death comes not at our bidding; he obeys a higher
appointment. The boy moaned again in his sleep, and Amy's faithful arm
was tightened round him. Closer she drew him to her maternal heart, and
in a low, gurgling, songful voice, lulled him to a sweeter rest. I
turned away from the sight, and, sinking on my knees, offered up a
prayer to Him our common Father. I prayed that strength might be
furnished me to endure the torture which I feared would come with the
labors of the day. I asked, in an especial way, for grace to be given to
the child, Amy. God is merciful! He moves in a mysterious manner. All
power comes direct from Him; and, oh, did I not feel that this young
creature had need of grace to bear the burden that others were preparing
for her!
My business was to clean the house and set to rights the young ladies'
apartment, and then assist Lindy in the breakfast-room; but I dared not
venture in the ladies' chamber until half-past six o'clock, as the
slightest foot-fall would arouse Miss Jane, who, I think, was too
nervous to sleep. Thus I was left some little time to myself; and these
few moments I generally devoted to reading some simple story-book or
chapters in the New Testament. Of course, the mighty mysteries of the
sacred volume were but imperfectly appreciated by me. I read the book
more as a duty than a pleasure; but this morning I could not read.
Christ's beautiful parable of the Ten Virgins, which has such a wondrous
significance even to the most childish mind, failed to impart interest,
and the blessed page fell from my hands unread.
I then thought I would go to the kitchen and assist Aunt Polly. I found
her very much excited, and in close conversation with our master's son
John, whom the servants familiarly addressed as "young master."
I have, as yet, forborne all direct and special mention of him, though
he was by no means a person lacking interest. Unlike his father and
sisters, he was gentle in disposition, full of loving kindness; yet he
was so taciturn, that we had seldom an indication of that generosity
that burned so intensely in the very centre of his soul, and which
subsequent events called forth. His sisters pronounced him stupid; and,
in the choice phraseology of his father, he was "poke-easy;" but the
poor, undiscriminating black people, called him gentle. To me he said
but little; yet that little was always kindly spoken, and I knew it to
be the dictate of a soft, humane spirit.
Fair-haired, with deep blue eyes, a snowy complexion and pensive
manners, he glided by us, ever recalling to my mind the thought of
seraphs. He was now fifteen years of age, but small of stature and
slight of sinew, with a mournful expression and dejected eye, as though
the burden of a great sorrow had been early laid upon him. During all
my residence there, I had never heard him laugh loud or seen him run. He
had none of that exhilaration and buoyancy which are so captivating in
childhood. If he asked a favor of even a servant, he always expressed a
hope that he had given no trouble. When a slave was to be whipped, he
would go off and conceal himself somewhere, and never was he a spectator
of any cruelty; yet he did not remonstrate with his father or intercede
for the victims. No one had ever heard him speak against the diabolical
acts of his father; yet all felt that he condemned them, for there was a
silent expression of reproof in the earnest gaze which he sometimes gave
him. I always fancied when the boy came near me, that there was about
him a religion, which, like the wondrous virtue of the Saviour's
garment, was manifest only when you approached near enough to touch it.
It was not expressed in any open word, or made evident by any signal
act, but, like the life-sustaining air which we daily breathe, we knew
it only through its beneficent though invisible influence.
CHAPTER XI.
THE FLIGHT--YOUNG MASTER'S APPREHENSIONS--HIS
CONVERSATION--AMY--EDIFYING TALK AMONG LADIES.
I was not a little surprised to find young master now in an apparently
earnest colloquy with Aunt Polly. A deep carnation spot burned upon his
cheeks, and his soft eye was purple in its intensity.
"What is the matter?" I asked.
"Lor, chile," replied Aunt Polly, "Lindy can't be found nowhar."
"Has every place been searched?" I inquired.
"Yes," said little John, "and she is nowhere to be found."
"Does master know it?"
"Not yet, and I hope it may be kept from him for some time, at least two
or three hours," he replied, with a mournful earnestness of tone.
"Why? Is he not well enough to bear the excitement of it?" I inquired.
The boy fixed his large and wondering eyes upon me. His gaze lingered
for a minute or two; it was enough; I read his inmost thoughts, and in
my secret soul I revered him, for I bowed to the majesty of a
heaven-born soul. Such spirits are indeed few. God lends them to earth
for but a short time; and we should entertain them well, for, though
they come in forms unrecognized, yet must we, despite the guise of
humanity, do reverence to the shrined seraph. This boy now became to me
an object of more intense interest. I felt assured, by the power of that
magnetic glance, that he was not unacquainted with the facts of Lindy's
flight.
"How far is it from here to the river?" he said, as if speaking with
himself, "nine miles--let me see--the Ohio once gained, and crossed,
they are comparatively safe."
He started suddenly, as if he had been betrayed or beguiled of his
secret, and starting up quickly, walked away. I followed him to the
door, and watched his delicate form and golden head, until he
disappeared in a curve of the path which led to the spring. That was a
favorite walk with him. Early in the morning (for he rose before the
lark) and late in the twilight, alike in winter or summer, he pursued
his walk. Never once did I see him with a book in his hand. With his eye
upturned to the heavens or bent upon the earth, he seemed to be reading
Nature's page. He had made no great proficiency in book-knowledge; and,
indeed, as he subsequently told me, he had read nothing but the Bible.
The stories of the Old Testament he had committed to memory, and could
repeat with great accuracy. That of Joseph possessed a peculiar
fascination for him. As I closed the kitchen door and rejoined Aunt
Polly, she remarked,
"Jist as I sed, Lindy is off, and we is left here to hab trouble; oh,
laws, look for sights now!"
I made no reply, but silently set about assisting her in getting
breakfast. Shortly after old Nace came in, with a strange expression
lighting up his fiendish face.
"Has you hearn de news?" And without waiting for a reply, he went on,
"Lindy is off fur Kanaday! ha, ha, ha!" and he broke out in a wild
laugh; "I guess dat dose 'ere hounds will scent her path sure enoff; I
looks out for fun in rale arnest. I jist hopes I'll be sint fur her, and
I'll scour dis airth but what I finds her."
And thus he rambled on, in a diabolical way, neither of us heeding him.
He seemed to take no notice of our silence, being too deeply interested
in the subject of his thoughts.
"I'd like to know at what hour she started off. Now, she was a smart one
to git off so slick, widout lettin' anybody know ob it. She had no close
worth takin' wid her, so she ken run de faster. I wish Masser would git
wake, kase I wants to be de fust one to tell him ob it."
Just then the two field-hands, Jake and Dan, came in.
"Wal," cried the former, "dis am news indeed. Lindy's off fur sartin.
Now she tinks she is some, I reckon."
"And why shouldn't she?" asked Dan, a big, burly negro, good-natured,
but very weak in mind; of a rather low and sensuous nature, yet of a
good and careless humor--the best worker upon the farm. I looked round
at him as he said this, for I thought there was reason as well as
feeling in the speech. Why shouldn't she be both proud and happy at the
success of her bold plan, if it gains her liberty and enables her to
reach that land where the law would recognize her as possessed of
rights? I could almost envy her such a lot.
"I guess she'll find her Kanady down de river, by de time de dogs gits
arter her," said Nace, with another of his ha, ha's.
"I wonder who Masser will send fur her? I bound, Nace, you'll be sent,"
said Jake.
"Yes, if dar is any fun, I is sure to be dar; but hurry up yer
hoe-cakes, old 'ooman, so dat de breakfust will be ober, and we can hab
an airly start."
The latter part of this speech was addressed to Aunt Polly, who turned
round and brandished the poker toward him, saying,
"Go 'bout yer business, Nace; kase you is got cause fur joy, it is not
wort my while to be glad. You is an old fool, dat nobody keres 'bout, no
how. I spects you would be glad to run off, too, if yer old legs was
young enuff fur to carry you."
"Me, Poll, I wouldn't be free if I could, kase, you see, I has done
sarved my time at de 'post,' and now I is Masser's head-man, and I gits
none ob de beatings. It is fun fur me to see de oders."
I turned my eyes upon him, and he looked so like a beast that I shut out
any feeling of resentment I might otherwise have entertained. Amy came
in, bearing little Ben in her arms, followed by her two sisters, Jinny
and Lucy.
"La, Aunt Polly, is Lindy gone?" and her blank eyes opened to an unusual
width, as she half-asked, half-asserted this fact.
"Yes, but what's it to you, Amy?"
"I jist hear 'em say so, as I was comin' along."
"Whar she be gone to?" asked Lucy.
"None ob yer bisness," replied Aunt Polly, with her usual gruffness.
Strange it was, that, when she was alone with me, she appeared to wax
soft and gentle in her nature; but, when with others, she was "wolfish."
It seemed as if she had two natures. Now, with Nace, she was as vile and
almost as inhuman as he; but I, who knew her heart truly, felt that she
was doing herself injustice. I did not laugh or join in their talk, but
silently worked on.
"Now, you see, Ann is one ob de proud sort, kase she ken read, and her
face is yaller; she tinks to hold herself 'bove us; but I 'members de
time when Masser buyed her at de sale. Lor' lub yer, but she did cry
when she lef her mammy; and de way old Kais flung herself on de ground,
ha! ha! it makes me laf now."
I turned my eyes upon him, and, I fear, there was anything but a
Christian spirit beaming therefrom. He had touched a chord in my heart
which was sacred to memory, love, and silence. My mother! Could I bear
to have her name and her sorrow thus rudely spoken of? Oh, God, what
fierce and fiendish feelings did the recollection of her agony arouse?
With burning head and thorn-pierced heart, I turned back a blotted page
in life. Again, with horror stirring my blood, did I see her in that
sweat of mortal agony, and hear that shriek that rung from her soul! Oh,
God, these memories are a living torture to me, even now. But though
Nace had touched the tenderest, sorest part of my heart, I said nothing
to him. The strange workings of my countenance attracted Amy's
attention, and, coming up to me, with an innocent air, she asked:
"What is the matter, Ann? Has anything happened to you?"
These questions, put by a simple child, one, too, whose own young life
had been deeply acquainted with grief, were too much for my assumed
stolidity. Tears were the only reply I could make. The child regarded
me curiously, and the expression, "poor thing," burst from her lips. I
felt grateful for even her sympathy, and put my hand out to her.
She grasped it, and, leaning close to me, said:
"Don't cry, Ann; me is sorry fur you. Don't cry any more."
Poor thing, she could feel sympathy; she, who was so loaded with
trouble, whose existence had none of the freshness and vernal beauty of
youth, but was seared and blighted like age, held in the depths of her
heart a pure drop of genuine sympathy, which she freely offered me. Oh,
did not my selfishness stand rebuked.
Looking out of the window, far down the path that wound to the spring, I
descried the fair form of the young John, advancing toward the house.
Pale and pure, with his blue eyes pensively looking up to heaven, an air
of peaceful thought and subdued emotion was breathing from his very
form. When I looked at him, he suggested the idea of serenity. There was
that about him which, like the moonlight, inspired calm. He was walking
more rapidly than I had ever seen him; but the pallor of his cheek, and
the clear, cold blue of his heaven-lit eye, harmonized but poorly with
the jarring discords of life. I thought of the pure, passionless apostle
John, whom Christ so loved? And did I not dream that this youth, too,
had on earth a mission of love to perform? Was he not one of the sacred
chosen? He came walking slowly, as if he were communing with some
invisible presence.
"Thar comes young Masser, and I is glad, kase he looks so good like. I
does lub him," said Amy.
"Now, I is gwine fur to tell Masser, and he will gib you a beatin',
nigger-gal, for sayin' you lub a white gemman," replied the sardonic
Nace.
"Oh, please don't tell on me. I did not mean any harm," and she burst
into tears, well-knowing that a severe whipping would be the reward of
her construed impertinence.
Before I had time to offer her any consolation, the subject of
conversation himself stood among us. With a low, tuneful voice, he spoke
to Amy, inquiring the cause of her tears.
"Oh, young Masser, I did not mean any harm. Please don't hab me beat."
Little Ben joined in her tears, whilst the two girls clung fondly to her
dress.
"Beaten for what?" asked young master, in a most encouraging manner.
"She say she lub you--jist as if a black wench hab any right to lub a
beautiful white gemman," put in Nace.
"I am glad she does, and wish that I could do something that would make
her love me more." And a _beatific_ smile overspread his peaceful face.
"Come, poor Amy, let me see if I haven't some little present for you,"
and he drew from his pocket a picayune, which he handed her. With a wild
and singular contortion of her body, she made an acknowledgment of
thanks, and kissing the hem of his robe, she darted off from the
kitchen, with little Ben in her arms.
Without saying one word, young master walked away from the kitchen, but
not without first casting a sorrowful look upon Nace. Strange it seemed
to me, that this noble youth never administered a word of reproof to any
one. He conveyed all rebukes by means of looks. Upon me this would have
produced a greater impression, for those mild, reproachful eyes spoke
with a power which no language could equal; but on one of Nace's
obtuseness, it had no effect whatever.
Shortly after, I left the kitchen, and went to the breakfast-room,
where, with the utmost expedition, I arranged the table, and then
repaired to the chamber of the young ladies. I found that they had
already risen from their bed. Miss Bradly (who had spent the night with
them) was standing at the mirror, braiding her long hair. Miss Jane was
seated in a large chair, with an elegant dressing-wrapper, waiting for
me to comb her "auburn hair," as she termed it. Miss Tildy, in a lazy
attitude, was talking about the events of the previous evening.
"Now, Miss Emily, I do think him very handsome; but I cannot forgive his
gross Abolition sentiments."
"How horribly vulgar and low he is in his notions," said Miss Jane.
"Oh, but, girls, he was reared in the North, with those fanatical
Abolitionists, and we can scarcely blame him."
"What a horrible set of men those Abolitionists must be. They have no
sense," said Miss Jane, with quite a Minerva air.
"Oh, sense they assuredly have, but judgment they lack. They are a set
of brain-sick dreamers, filled with Utopian schemes. They know nothing
of Slavery as it exists at the South; and the word, which, I confess,
has no very pleasant sound, has terrified them." This remark was made by
Miss Bradly, and so astonished me that I fixed my eyes upon her, and,
with one look, strove to express the concentrated contempt and
bitterness of my nature. This look she did not seem to heed. With
strange feelings of distrust in the integrity of human nature, I went on
about my work, which was to arrange and deck Miss Jane's hair, but I
would have given worlds not to have felt toward Miss Bradly as I did. I
remembered with what a different spirit she had spoken to me of those
Abolitionists, whom she now contemned so much, and referred to as vain
dreamers. Where was the exalted philanthropy that I had thought dwelt in
her soul? Was she not, now, the weakest and most sordid of mortals?
Where was that far and heaven-reaching love, that had seemed to encircle
her as a living, burning zone? Gone! dissipated, like a golden mist! and
now, before my sight she stood, poor and a beggar, upon the great
highway of life.
"I can tell you," said Miss Tildy, "I read the other day in a newspaper
that the reason these northern men are so strongly in favor of the
abolition of slavery is, that they entertain a prejudice against the
South, and that all this political warfare originated in the base
feeling of envy."
"And that is true," put in Miss Jane; "they know that cotton, rice and
sugar are the great staples of the South, and where can you find any
laborers but negroes to produce them?"
"Could not the poor class of whites go there and work for wages?"
pertinently asked Miss Tildy, who had a good deal of the spirit of
altercation in her.
"No, of course not; because they are free and could not be made to work
at all times. They would consent to be employed only at certain periods.
They would not work when they were in the least sick, and they would,
because of their liberty, claim certain hours as their own; whereas the
slave has no right to interpose any word against the overseer's order.
Sick or well, he _must_ work at busy seasons of the year. The whip has a
terribly sanitary power, and has been proven to be a more efficient
remedy than rhubarb or senna." After delivering herself of this
wonderful argument, Miss Jane seemed to experience great relief. Miss
Bradly turned from the mirror, and, smiling sycophantically upon her,
said: "Why, my dear, how well you argue! You are a very Cicero in
debate."
That was enough. This compliment took ready root in the shallow mind of
the receiver, and her love for Miss B. became greater than ever.
"But I do think him so handsome," broke from Miss Tildy's lips, in a
half audible voice.
"Whom?" asked Miss Bradly.
"Why, the stranger of last evening; the fair-browed Robert Worth."
"Handsome, indeed, is he!" was the reply.
"I hope, Matilda Peterkin, you would not be so disloyal to the South,
and to the very honorable institution under which your father
accumulated his wealth, as to even admire a low-flung northern
Abolitionist;" and Miss Jane reddened with all a Southron's ire.
Miss Bradly was about to speak, but to what purpose the world to this
day remains ignorant, for oath after oath, and blasphemy by the volley,
so horrible that I will spare myself and the reader the repetition,
proceeded from the room of Mr. Peterkin.
The ladies sprang to their feet, and, in terror, rushed from the
apartment.
CHAPTER XII.
MR. PETERKIN'S RAGE--ITS ESCAPE--CHAT AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE--CHANGE OF
VIEWS--POWER OF THE FLESH POTS.
It was as I had expected; the news of Lindy's flight had been
communicated by Nace to Mr. Peterkin, and his rage knew no limits. It
was dangerous to go near him. Raving like a madman, he tore the covering
of the bed to shreds, brandished his cowhide in every direction, took
down his gun, and swore he would "shoot every d----d nigger on the
place." His daughters had no influence over him. Out of bed he would
get, declaring that "all this devilment" would not have been perpetrated
if he had not been detained there by the order of that d----d doctor,
who had no reason for keeping him there but a desire to get his money.
Fearing that his hyena rage might vent some of its gall on them, the
ladies made no further opposition to his intention.
Standing just without the door, I heard Miss Jane ask him if he would
not first take some breakfast.
"No; cuss your breakfast. I want none of it; I want to be among them ar'
niggers, and give 'em a taste of this cowhide, that they have been
sufferin' fur."
In affright I fled to the kitchen, and told Aunt Polly that the storm
had at length broken in all its fury. Each one of the negroes eyed the
others in silent dismay.
Pale with rage and debility, hot fury flashing from his eye, and white
froth gathering upon his lips, Mr. Peterkin dashed into the kitchen. "In
the name of h--ll and its fires, niggers, what does this mean? Tell me
whar that d----d gal is, or I'll cut every mother's child of you to
death."
Not one spoke. Lash after lash he dealt in every direction.
"Speak, h--ll hounds, or I'll throttle you!" he cried, as he caught Jake
and Dan by the throat, with each hand, and half strangled them. With
their eyes rolling, and their tongues hanging from their mouths, they
had not power to answer. As soon as he loosened his grasp, and their
voices were sufficiently their own to speak, they attempted a denial;
but a blow from each of Mr. Peterkin's fists levelled them to the floor.
In this dreadful state, and with a hope of getting a moment's respite,
Jake (poor fellow, I forgive him for it) pointed to me, saying:
"She knows all 'bout it."
This had the desired effect; finding one upon whom he could vent his
whole wrath, Peterkin rushed up to me, and Oh, such a blow as descended
upon my head! Fifty stars blazed around me. My brain burned and ached; a
choking rush of tears filled my eyes and throat. "Mercy! mercy!" broke
from my agonized lips; but, alas! I besought it from a tribunal where it
was not to be found. Blow after blow he dealt me. I strove not to parry
them, but stood and received them, as, right and left, they fell like a
hail-storm. Tears and blood bathed my face and blinded my sight. "You
cussed fool, I'll make you rue the day you was born, if you hide from me
what you knows 'bout it."
I asseverated, in the most solemn way, that I knew nothing of Lindy's
flight.
"You are a liar," he cried out, and enforced his words with another
blow.
"She is not," cried Aunt Polly, whose forbearance had now given out.
This unexpected boldness in one of the most humble and timid of his
slaves, enraged him still farther, and he dealt her such a blow that my
heart aches even now, as I think of it.
A summons from one of the ladies recalled him to the house. Before
leaving he pronounced a desperate threat against us, which amounted to
this--that we should all be tied to the "post," and beaten until
confession was wrung from us, and then taken to L----, and sold to a
trader, for the southern market. But I did not share, with the others,
that wondrous dread of the fabled horror of "down the river." I did not
believe that anywhere slavery existed in a more brutal and cruel form
than in the section of Kentucky where I lived. Solitary instances of
kind and indulgent masters there were; but they were the few exceptions
to the almost universal rule.
Now, when Mr. Peterkin withdrew, I, forgetful of my own wounds, lifted
Aunt Polly in my arms, and bore her, half senseless, to the cabin, and
laid her upon her ragged bed. "Great God!" I exclaimed, as I bent above
her, "can this thing last long? How much longer will thy divine patience
endure? How much longer must we bear this scourge, this crown of thorns,
this sweat of blood? Where and with what Calvary shall this martyrdom
terminate? Oh, give me patience, give me fortitude to bow to Thy will!
Sustain me, Jesus, Thou who dost know, hast tasted of humanity's
bitterest cup, give me grace to bear yet a little longer!"
With this prayer upon my lips I rose from the bedside where I had been
kneeling, and, taking Aunt Polly's horny hands within my own, I
commenced chafing them tenderly. I bathed her temples with cold water.
She opened her eyes languidly, looked round the room slowly, and then
fixed them upon me, with a bewildered expression. I spoke to her in a
gentle tone; she pushed me some distance from her, eyed me with a vacant
glance, then, shaking her head, turned over on her side and closed her
eyes. Believing that she was stunned and faint from the blow she had
received, I thought it best that she should sleep awhile. Gently
spreading the coverlet over her, I returned to the kitchen, where the
affrighted group of negroes yet remained. Stricken by a panic they had
not power of volition.
Casting one look of reproach upon Jake, I turned away, intending to go
and see if the ladies required my attention in the breakfast-room; but
in the entry, which separated the house from the kitchen, I encountered
Amy, with little Ben seated upon her hip. This is the usual mode with
nurses in Kentucky of carrying children. I have seen girls actually
deformed from the practice. An enlargement of the right hip is caused by
it, and Amy was an example of this. Had I been in a different mood, her
position and appearance would have provoked laughter. There she stood,
with her broad eyes wide open, and glaring upon me; her unwashed face
and uncombed hair were adorned by the odd ends of broken straws and bits
of hay that clung to the naps of wool; her mouth was opened to its
utmost capacity; her very ears were erect with curiosity; and her form
bent eagerly forward, whilst little Ben was coiled up on her hip, with
his sharp eyes peering like those of a mouse over her shoulder.
"Ann," she cried out, "tell me what's de matter? What's Masser goin' to
do wid us all?"
"I don't know, Amy," I answered in a faltering tone, for I feared much
for her.
"I hopes de child'en will go 'long wid me, an' I'd likes for you to go
too, Ann."
I did not trust myself to reply; but, passing hastily on, entered the
breakfast-room, where Jane, Tildy, and Miss Bradly were seated at the
table, with their breakfast scarcely tasted. They were bending over
their plates in an intensity of interest which made them forget
everything, save their subject of conversation.
"How she could have gotten off without creating any alarm, is to me a
mystery," said Miss Jane, as she toyed with her spoon and cup.
"Well, old Nick is in them. Negroes, I believe, are possessed by some
demon. They have the witch's power of slipping through an auger-hole,"
said Miss Tildy.
"They are singular creatures," replied Miss Bradly; "and I fear a great
deal of useless sympathy is expended upon them."
"You may depend there is," said Miss Jane. "I only wish these Northern
abolitionists had our servants to deal with. I think it would drive the
philanthropy out of them."
"Indeed would it," answered Miss Bradly, as she took a warm roll, and
busied herself spreading butter thereon; "they have no idea of the
trials attending the duty of a master; the patience required in the
management of so many different dispositions. I think a residence in the
South or South-west would soon change their notions. The fact is, I
think those fanatical abolitionists agitate the question only for
political purposes. Now, it is a clearly-ascertained thing, that slavery
would be prejudicial to the advancement of Northern enterprise. The
negro is an exotic from a tropical region, hence lives longer, and is
capable of more work in a warm climate. They have no need of black labor
at the North; and thus, I think, the whole affair resolves itself into a
matter of sectional gain and interest."
Here she helped herself to the wing of a fried chicken. It seemed that
the argument had considerably whetted her appetite. Astonishing, is it
not, how the loaves and fishes of this goodly life will change and sway
our opinions? Even sober-minded, educated people, cannot repress their
pinings after the flesh-pots of Egypt.
Miss Jane seemed delighted to find that her good friend and instructress
held the Abolition party in such contempt. Just then young master
entered. With quiet, saintly manner, taking his seat at the table, he
said,
"Is not the abolition power strong at the North, Miss Emily?"
"Oh, no, Johnny, 'tis comparatively small; confined, I assure you, to a
few fanatical spirits. The merchants of New York, Boston, and the other
Northern cities, carry on a too extensive commerce with the South to
adopt such dangerous sentiments. There is a comity of men as well as
States; and the clever rule of 'let alone' is pretty well observed."
Young master made no reply in words, but fixed his large, mysterious
eyes steadfastly upon her. Was it mournfulness that streamed, with a
purple light, from them, or was it a sublimated contempt? He said
nothing, but quietly ate his breakfast. His fare was as homely as that
of an ascetic; he never used meat, and always took bread without
butter. A simple crust and glass of milk, three times a day, was his
diet. Miss Jane gave him a careless and indifferent glance, then
proceeded with the conversation, totally unconscious of his presence;
but again and again he cast furtive, anxious glances toward her, and I
thought I noticed him sighing.
"What will father do with Lindy, if she should be caught?" asked Miss
Tildy.
"Send her down the river, of course," was Miss Jane's response.
"She deserves it," said Miss Tildy.
"Does she?" asked the deep, earnest voice of young master.
Was it because he was unused to asking questions, or was there something
in the strange earnestness of his tone, that made those three ladies
start so suddenly, and regard him with such an astonished air? Yet none
of them replied, and thus for a few moments conversation ceased, until
he rose from the table and left the room.
"He is a strange youth," said Miss Bradly, "and how wondrously handsome!
He always suggests romantic notions."
"Yes, but I think him very stupid. He never talks to any of us--is
always alone, seeks old and unfrequented spots; neither in the winter
nor summer will he remain within doors. Something seems to lure him to
the wood, even when despoiled of its foliage. He must be slightly
crazed--ma's health was feeble for some time previous to his birth,
which the doctors say has injured his constitution, and I should not be
surprised if his intellect had likewise suffered." This speech was
pronounced by Miss Tildy in quite an oracular tone.
Miss Bradly made no answer, and I marvelled not at her changing color.
Had she not power to read, in that noble youth's voice and manner, the
high enduring truth and singleness of purpose that dwelt in his nature?
Though he had never spoken one word in relation to slavery, I knew that
all his instincts were against it; and that opposition to it was the
principle deeply ingrained in his heart.
CHAPTER XIII.
RECOLLECTIONS--CONSOLING INFLUENCE OF SYMPATHY--AMY'S DOCTRINE OF THE
SOUL--TALK AT THE SPRING.
As Mr. Peterkin was passing through the vestibule of the front door, he
met young master standing there. Now, this was Mr. Peterkin's favorite
child, for, though he did not altogether like that quietude of manner,
which he called "poke-easy," the boy had never offered him any affront
about his incorrect language, or treated him with indignity in any way.
And then he was so beautiful! True, his father could not appreciate the
spiritual nobility of his face; yet the symmetry of his features and the
spotless purity of his complexion, answered even to Mr. Peterkin's idea
of beauty. The coarsest and most vulgar soul is keenly alive to the
beauty of the rose and lily; though that concealed loveliness, which is
only hinted at by the rare fragrance, may be known only to the
cultivated and poetic heart. Often I have heard him say, "John is pretty
enoff to be a gal."
Now as he met him in the vestibule, he said, "John, I'm in a peck o'
trouble."
"I am sorry you are in trouble father."
"That cussed black wench, Lindy, is off, and I'm 'fraid the neighborhood
kant be waked up soon enough to go arter and ketch her. Let me git her
once more in my clutches, and I'll make her pay for it. I'll give her
one good bastin' that she'll 'member, and then I'll send her down the
river fur enough."
The boy made no reply; but, with his eyes cast down on the earth, he
seemed to be unconscious of all that was going on around him. When he
raised his head his eyes were burning, his breath came thick and short,
and a deep scarlet spot shone on the whiteness of his cheek; the veins
in his forehead lay like heavy cords, and his very hair seemed to
sparkle. He looked as one inspired. This was unobserved by his parent,
who hastily strode away to find more willing listeners. I tarried in a
place where, unnoticed by others, I commanded a good out-look. I saw
young master clasp his hands fervently, and heard him passionately
exclaim--"How much longer, oh, how much longer shall this be?" Then
slowly walking down his favorite path, he was lost to my vision.
"Blessed youth, heaven-missioned, if thou wouldst only speak to me! One
word of consolation from God-anointed lips like thine, would soothe even
the sting of bondage; but no," I added, "that earnest look, that gentle
tone, tell perhaps as much as it is necessary for me to know. This
silence proceeds from some noble motive. Soon enough he will make
himself known to us."
In a little while the news of Lindy's departure had spread through the
neighborhood like a flame. Our yard and house were filled with men come
to offer their services to their neighbor, who, from his wealth, was
considered a sort of magnate among them.
Pretty soon they were mounted on horses, and armed to the teeth, each
one with a horn fastened to his belt, galloping off in quest of the poor
fugitive. And is this thing done beneath the influence of civilized
laws, and by men calling themselves Christians? What has armed those
twelve men with pistols, and sent them on an excursion like this? Is it
to redeem a brother from a band of lawless robbers, who hold him in
captivity? Is it to right some individual wrong? Is it to take part with
the weak and oppressed against the strong and the overbearing? No, no,
my friends, on no such noble mission as this have they gone. No purpose
of high emprise has made them buckle on the sword and prime the pistol.
A poor, lone female, who, through years, has been beaten, tyrannized
over, and abused, has ventured out to seek what this constitution
professes to secure to every one--liberty. Barefoot and alone, she has
gone forth; and 'tis to bring her back to a vile and brutal slavery
that these men have sallied out, regardless of her sex, her destitution,
and her misery. They have set out either to recapture her or to shoot
her down in her tracks like a dog. And this is a system which Christian
men speak of as heaven-ordained! This is a thing countenanced by
freemen, whose highest national boast is, that theirs is the land of
liberty, equality, and free-rights! These are the people who yearly send
large sums to Ireland; who pray for the liberation of Hungary; who wish
to transmit armed forces across the Atlantic to aid vassal States in
securing their liberty! These are they who talk so largely of Cuba,
expend so much sympathy upon the oppressed of other lands, and predict
the downfall of England for her oppressive form of government! Oh,
America! "first pluck the beam out of thine own eye, then shalt thou see
more clearly the mote that is in thy brother's."
When I watched those armed men ride away, in such high courage and
eagerness for the hunt, I thought of Lindy, poor, lone girl, fatigued,
worn and jaded, suffering from thirst and hunger; her feet torn and
bruised with toil, hiding away in bogs and marshes, with an ear
painfully acute to every sound. I thought of this, and all the
resentment I had ever felt toward her faded away as a vapor.
All that day the house was in a state of intense excitement. The
servants could not work with their usual assiduity. Indeed, such was the
excitement, even of the white family, that we were not strictly required
to labor.
Miss Jane gave me some fancy-sewing to do for her. Taking it with me to
Aunt Polly's cabin, intending to talk with her whilst time was allowed
me, I was surprised and pleased to find the old woman still asleep. "It
will do her good," I thought, "she needs rest, poor creature! And that
blow was given to her on my account! How much I would rather have
received it myself." I then examined her head, and was glad to find no
mark or bruise; so I hoped that with a good sleep she would wake up
quite well. I seated myself on an old stool, near the door, which,
notwithstanding the rawness of the day, I was obliged to leave open to
admit light. It was a cool, windy morning, such as makes a woollen shawl
necessary. My young mistresses had betaken themselves to cashmere
wrappers and capes; but I still wore my thin and "seedy" calico. As I
sewed on, upon Miss Jane's embroidery, many _fancies_ came in troops
through my brain, defiling like a band of ghosts through each private
gallery and hidden nook of memory, and even to the very inmost
compartment of secret thought! My mother, with her sad, sorrow-stricken
face, my old companions and playfellows in the long-gone years, all
arose with vividness to my eye! Where were they all? Where had they been
during the lapse of years? Of my mother I had never heard a word. Was
she dead? At that suggestion I started, and felt my heart grow chill, as
though an icy hand had clenched it; yet why felt I so? Did I not know
that the grave would be to her as a bed of ease? What torture could
await her beyond the pass of the valley of shadows? She, who had been
faithful over a little, would certainly share in those blessed rewards
promised by Christ; yet it seemed to me that my heart yearned to look
upon her again in this life. I could not, without pain, think of her as
_one who had been_. There was something selfish in this, yet was it
intensely human, and to feel otherwise I should have had to be less
loving, less filial in my nature. "Oh, mother!" I said, "if ever we meet
again, will it be a meeting that shall know no separation? Mother, are
you changed? Have you, by the white man's coarse brutality, learned to
forget your absent child? Do not thoughts of her often come to your
lonely soul with the sighing of the midnight wind? Do not the high and
merciful stars, that nightly burn above you, recall me to your heart?
Does not the child-loved moon speak to you of times when, as a little
thing, I nestled close to your bosom? Or, mother, have other ties grown
around your heart? Have other children supplanted your eldest-born? Do
chirruping lips and bright eyes claim all your thoughts? Or do you toil
alone, broken in soul and bent in body, beneath the drudgery of human
labor, without one soft voice to lull you to repose? Oh, not this, not
this, kind Heaven! Let her forget me, in her joy; give her but peace,
and on me multiply misfortunes, rain down evils, only spare, shield and
protect _her_." This tide of thought, as it rolled rapidly through my
mind, sent the hot tears, in gushes, from my eyes. As I bent my head to
wipe them away, without exactly seeing it, I became aware of a blessed
presence; and, lifting my moist eyes, I beheld young master standing
before me, with that calm, spiritual glance which had so often charmed
and soothed me.
"What is the matter, Ann? Why are you weeping?" he asked me in a gentle
voice.
"Nothing, young Master, only I was thinking of my mother."
"How long since you saw her?"
"Oh, years, young Master; I have not seen her since my childhood--not
since Master bought me."
He heaved a deep sigh, but said nothing; those eyes, with a soft,
shadowed light, as though they were shining through misty tears, were
bent upon me.
"Where is your mother now, Ann?"
"I don't know, young Master, I've never heard from her since I came
here."
Again he sighed, and now he passed his thin white hand across his eyes,
as if to dissipate the mist.
"You think she was sold when you were, don't you?"
"I expect she was. I'm almost sure she was, for I don't think either my
young Masters or Mistresses wished or expected to retain the servants."
"I wish I could find out something about her for you; but, at present,
it is out of my power. You must do the best you can. You are a good
girl, Ann; I have noticed how patiently you bear hard trouble. Do you
pray?"
"Oh, yes, young Master, and that is all the pleasure I have. What would
be my situation without prayer? Thanks to God, the slave has this
privilege!"
"Yes, Ann, and in God's eyes you are equal to a white person. He makes
no distinction; your soul is as precious and dear to Him as is that of
the fine lady clad in silk and gems."
I opened my eyes to gaze upon him, as he stood there, with his beautiful
face beaming with good feeling and love for the humblest and lowest of
God's creatures. This was religion! This was the spirit which Christ
commended. This was the love which He daily preached and practiced.
"But how is Aunt Polly? I heard that she was suffering much."
"She is sleeping easily now," I replied.
"Well, then, don't disturb her. It is better that she should sleep;" and
he walked away, leaving me more peaceful and happy than before. Blessed
youth!--why have we not more such among us! They would render the thongs
and fetters of slavery less galling.
The day was unusually quiet; but the frostiness of the atmosphere kept
the ladies pretty close within doors; and Mr. Peterkin had, contrary to
the wishes of his family, and the injunctions of his physician, gone out
with the others upon the search; besides, he had taken Nace and the
other men with him, and, as Aunt Polly was sick, Ginsy had been
appointed in her place to prepare dinner. After sewing very diligently
for some time, I wandered out through the poultry lot, lost in a
labyrinth of strange reflection. As I neared the path leading down
toward the spring, young master's favorite walk, I could not resist the
temptation to follow it to its delightful terminus, where he was wont to
linger all the sunny summer day, and frequently passed many hours in the
winter time? I was superstitious enough to think that some of his deep
and rich philanthropy had been caught, as by inspiration, from this
lovely natural retreat; for how could the child of such a low, beastly
parent, inherit a disposition so heavenly, and a soul so spotless? He
had been bred amid scenes of the most revolting cruelty; had lived with
people of the harshest and most brutal dispositions; yet had he
contracted from them no moral stain. Were they not hideous to look upon,
and was he not lovely as a seraph? Were they not low and vulgar, and he
lofty and celestial-minded? Why and how was this? Ah, did I not believe
him to be one of God's blessed angels, lent us for a brief season?
The path was well-trodden, and wound and curved through the woods, down
to a clear, natural spring of water. There had been made, by the order
of young master, a turfetted seat, overgrown by soft velvet moss, and
here this youth would sit for hours to ponder, and, perhaps, to weave
golden fancies which were destined to ripen into rich fruition in that
land beyond the shores of time. As I drew near the spring, I imagined
that a calm and holy influence was settling over me. The spirit of the
place had power upon me, and I yielded myself to the spell. It was no
disease of fancy, or dream of enchantment, that thus possessed me; for
there, half-reclining on the mossy bench, I beheld young master, and,
seated at his feet, with her little, odd, wondering face uplifted to
his, was Amy; and, crawling along, playing with the moss, and looking
down into the mirror of the spring, peered the bright eyes of little
Ben. It was a scene of such beauty that I paused to take a full view of
it, before making my presence known. Young master, with his pale,
intellectual face, his classic head, his sun-bright curls, and his
earnest blue eyes, sat in a half-lounging attitude, making no
inappropriate picture of an angel of light, whilst the two little black
faces seemed emblems of fallen, degraded humanity, listening to his
pleading voice.
"Wherever you go, or in whatever condition you may be, Amy, never forget
to pray to the good Lord." As he said this, he bent his eyes
compassionately on her.
"Oh, laws, Masser, how ken I pray! de good Lord wouldn't hear me. I is
too black and dirty."
"God does not care for that. You are as dear to Him as the finest lady
of the land."
"Oh, now, Masser, you doesn't tink me is equal to you, a fine, nice,
pretty white gemman--dress so fine."
"God cares not, my child, for clothes, or the color of the skin. He
values the heart alone; and if your heart is clear, it matters not
whether your face be black or your clothes mean."
"Laws, now, young Masser," and the child laughed heartily at the idea,
"you doesn't 'spect a nigger's heart am clean. I tells you 'tis black
and dirty as dere faces."
"My poor child, I would that I had power to scatter the gloomy mist that
beclouds your mind, and let you see and know that our dying Saviour
embraced all your unfortunate race in the merits of his divine
atonement."
This speech was not comprehended by Amy. She sat looking vacantly at
him; marvelling all the while at his pretty talk, yet never once
believing that Jesus prized a negro's soul. Young master's eyes were, as
usual, elevated to the clear, majestic heavens. Not a cloud floated in
the still, serene expanse, and the air was chill. One moment longer I
waited, before revealing myself. Stepping forward, I addressed young
master in an humble tone.
"Well, Ann, what do you want?" This was not said in a petulant voice,
but with so much gentleness that it invited the burdened heart to make
its fearful disclosure.
"Oh, young Master, I know that you will pardon me for what I am going to
ask. I cannot longer restrain myself. Tell me what is to become of us?
When shall we be sold? Into whose hands shall I fall?"
"Alas, poor Ann, I am as ignorant of father's intentions as you are. I
would that I could relieve your anxiety, but I am as uneasy about it as
you or any one can be. Oh, I am powerless to do anything to better your
unfortunate condition. I am weak as the weakest of you."
"I know, young Master, that we have your kindest sympathy, and this
knowledge softens my trouble."
He did not reply, but sat with a perplexed expression, looking on the
ground.
"Oh, Ann, you has done gin young Masser some trouble. What fur you do
dat? We niggers ain't no 'count any how, and you hab no sort ob
bisiness be troublin' young Masser 'bout it," said Amy.
"Be still, Amy, let Ann speak her troubles freely. It will relieve her
mind. You may tell me of yours too."
Sitting down upon the sward, close to his feet, I relieved my oppressed
bosom by a copious flood of tears. Still he spoke not, but sat silent,
looking down. Amy was awed into stillness, and even little Ben became
calm and quiet as a lamb. No one broke the spell. No one seemed anxious
to do so. There are some feelings for which silence is the best
expression.
At length he said mildly, "Now, my good friends, it might be made the
subject of ungenerous remarks, if you were to be seen talking with me
long. You had better return to the house."
As Amy and I, with little Ben, rose to depart, he looked after us, and
sighing, exclaimed, "poor creatures, my heart bleeds for you!"
CHAPTER XIV.
THE PRATTLINGS OF INSANITY--OLD WOUNDS REOPEN--THE WALK TO THE
DOCTOR'S--INFLUENCE OF NATURE.
Upon my return to the house I hastened on to the cabin, hoping to find
Aunt Polly almost entirely recovered. Passing hastily through the yard I
entered the cabin with a light step, and to my surprise found her
sitting up in a chair, playing with some old faded artificial flowers,
the dilapidated decorations of Miss Tildy's summer bonnet, which had
been swept from the house with the litter on the day before. I had never
seen her engaged in a pastime so childish and sportive, and was not a
little astonished, for her aversion to flowers had often been to me the
subject of remark.
"What have you there that is pretty, Aunt Polly?" I asked with
tenderness.
With a wondering, childish smile, she held the crushed blossoms up, and
turning them over and over in her hands, said:
"Putty things! ye is berry putty!" then pressing them to her bosom, she
stroked the leaves as kindly as though she had been smoothing the truant
locks of a well-beloved child. I could not understand this freak, for
she was one to whose uncultured soul all sweet and pretty fancies seemed
alien. Looking up to me with that vacant glance which at once explained
all, she said:
"Who's dar? Who is you? Oh, dat is my darter," and addressing me by the
remembered name of her own long-lost child, she traversed, in thought,
the whole waste-field of memory. Not a single wild-flower in the wayside
of the heart was neglected or forgotten. She spoke of times when she had
toyed and dandled her infant darling upon her knee; then, shudderingly,
she would wave me off, with terror written all over her furrowed face,
and cry, "Get you away, Masser is comin': thar, thar he is; see him wid
de ropes; he is comin' to tar you 'way frum me. Here, here child, git
under de bed, hide frum 'em, dey is all gwine to take you 'way--'way
down de river, whar you'll never more see yer poor old mammy." Then
sinking upon her knees, with her hands outstretched, and her eyes
eagerly strained forward, and bent on vacancy, she frantically cried:
"Masser, please, please Masser, don't take my poor chile from me. It's
all I is got on dis ar' airth; Masser, jist let me hab it and I'll work
fur you, I'll sarve you all de days ob my life. You may beat my ole back
as much as you please; you may make me work all de day and all de night,
jist, so I ken keep my chile. Oh, God, oh, God! see, dere dey goes, wid
my poor chile screaming and crying for its mammy! See, see it holds its
arms to me! Oh, dat big hard man struck it sich a blow. Now, now dey is
out ob sight." And crawling on her knees, with arms outspread, she
seemed to be following some imaginary object, until, reaching the door,
I feared in her transport of agony she would do herself some injury,
and, catching her strongly in my arms, I attempted to hold her back; but
she was endowed with a superhuman strength, and pushed me violently
against the wall.
"Thar, you wretch, you miserble wretch, dat would keep me from my chile,
take dat blow, and I wish it would send yer to yer grave."
Recoiling a few steps, I looked at her. A wild and lurid light gathered
in her eye, and a fiendish expression played over her face. She clenched
her hands, and pressed her old broken teeth hard upon her lips, until
the blood gushed from them; frothing at the mouth, and wild with
excitement, she made an attempt to bound forward and fell upon the
floor. I screamed for help, and sprang to lift her up. Blood oozed from
her mouth and nose; her eyes rolled languidly, and her under-jaw fell as
though it were broken.
In terror I bore her to the bed, and, laying her down, I went to get a
bowl of water to wash the blood and foam from her face. Meeting Amy at
the door, I told her Aunt Polly was very sick, and requested her to
remain there until my return.
I fled to the kitchen, and seizing a pan of water that stood upon the
shelf, returned to the cabin. There I found young master bending over
Aunt Polly, and wiping the blood-stains from her mouth and nose with his
own handkerchief. This was, indeed, the ministration of the high to the
lowly. This generous boy never remembered the distinctions of color, but
with that true spirit of human brotherhood which Christ inculcated by
many memorable examples, he ministered to the humble, the lowly, and the
despised. Indeed, such seemed to take a firmer hold upon his heart.
Here, in this lowly cabin, like the good Samaritan of old, he paused to
bind up the wounds of a poor outcast upon the dreary wayside of
existence.
Bending tenderly over Aunt Polly, until his luxuriant golden curls swept
her withered face, he pressed his linen handkerchief to her mouth and
nose to staunch the rapid flow of blood.
"Oh, Ann, have you come with the water? I fear she is almost gone; throw
it in her face with a slight force, it may revive her," he said in a
calm tone.
I obeyed, but there was no sign of consciousness. After one or two
repetitions she moved a little, young master drew a bottle of sal
volatile from his pocket, and applied it to her nose. The effect was
sudden; she started up spasmodically, and looking round the room laughed
wildly, frightfully; then, shaking her head, her face resumed its look
of pitiful imbecility.
"The light is quenched, and forever," said young master, and the tears
came to his eyes and rolled slowly down his cheeks. Amy, with Ben in her
arms, stood by in anxious wonder; creeping up to young master's side,
she looked earnestly in his face, saying--
"Don't cry, Masser, Aunt Polly will soon be well; she jist sick for
little while. De lick Masser gib her only hurt her little time,--she
'most well now, but her does look mighty wild."
"Oh, Lord, how much longer must these poor people be tried in the
furnace of affliction? How much longer wilt thou permit a suffering race
to endure this harsh warfare? Oh, Divine Father, look pityingly down on
this thy humble servant, who is so sorely tried." The latter part of the
speech was uttered as he sank upon his knees; and down there upon the
coarse puncheon floor we all knelt, young master forming the central
figure of the group, whilst little Amy, the baby-boy Ben, and the poor
lunatic, as if in mimicry, joined us. We surrounded him, and surely that
beautiful heart-prayer must have reached the ear of God. When such
purity asks for grace and mercy upon the poor and unfortunate, the ear
of Divine grace listens.
"What fur you pray?" asked the poor lunatic.
"I ask mercy for sore souls like thine."
"Oh, dat is funny; but say, sir, whar is my chile? Whar is she? Why
don't she come to me? She war here a minnit ago; but now she does be
gone away."
"Oh, what a mystery is the human frame! Lyre of the spirit, how soon is
thy music jarred into discord." Young master uttered this rhapsody in a
manner scarcely audible, but to my ear no sound of his was lost, not a
word, syllable, or tone!
"Poor Luce--is dat Luce?" and the poor, crazed creature stared at me
with a bewildered gaze! "and my baby-boy, whar is he, and my oldest
sons? Dey is all gone from me and forever." She began to weep piteously.
"Watch with her kindly till I send Jake for the doctor," he said to me;
then rallying himself, he added, "but they are all gone--gone upon that
accursed hunt;" and, seating himself in a chair, he pressed his fingers
hard upon his closed eye-lids. "Stay, I will go myself for the
doctor--she must not be neglected."
And rising from his chair he buttoned his coat, and, charging me to take
good care of her, was about starting, but Aunt Polly sprang forward and
caught him by the arms, exclaiming,
"Oh, putty, far angel, don't leab me. I kan't let you leab me--stay
here. I has no peace when you is gone. Dey will come and beat me agin,
and dey will take my chil'en frum me. Oh, please now, you stay wid me."
And she held on to him with such a pitiful fondness, and there was so
much anxiety in her face, such an infantile look of tenderness, with the
hopeless vacancy of idiocy in the eye, that to refuse her would have
been harsh; and of this young master was incapable. So, turning to me,
he said,
"You go, Ann, for the doctor, and I will stay with her--poor old
creature I have never done anything for her, and now I will gratify
her."
As the horses had all been taken by the pursuers of Lindy, I was forced
to walk to Dr. Mandy's farm, which was about two miles distant from Mr.
Peterkin's. I was glad of this, for of late it was indeed but seldom
that I had been allowed to indulge in a walk through the woods. All
through the leafy glory of the summer season I had looked toward the old
sequestered forest with a longing eye. Each little bird seemed wooing me
away, yet my occupations confined me closely to the house; and a
pleasure-walk, even on Sunday, was a luxury which a negro might dream of
but never indulge. Now, though it was the lonely autumn time, yet loved
I still the woods, dismantled as they were. There is something in the
grandeur of the venerable forests, that always lifts the soul to
devotion! The patriarchal trees and the delicate sward, the wind-music
and the almost ceaseless miserere of the grove, elevate the heart, and
to the cultivated mind speak with a power to which that of books is but
poor and tame.
CHAPTER XV.
QUIETUDE OF THE WOODS--A GLIMPSE OF THE STRANGER--MRS. MANDY'S WORDS OF
CRUEL IRONY--SAD REFLECTIONS.
The freshening breeze, tempered with the keen chill of the coming
winter, made a lively music through the woods, as, floating along, it
toyed with the fallen leaves that lay dried and sere upon the earth.
There stood the giant trees, rearing their bald and lofty heads to the
heavens, whilst at their feet was spread their splendid summer livery.
Like the philosophers of old, in their calm serenity they looked away
from earth and its troubles to the "bright above."
I wandered on, with a quick step, in the direction of the doctor's. The
recent painful events were not calculated to color my thoughts very
pleasingly; yet I had taught myself to live so entirely _within_, to be
so little affected by what was _without_, that I could be happy in
imagination, notwithstanding what was going on in the external world.
'Tis well that the negro is of an imaginative cast. Suppose he were by
nature strongly practical and matter-of-fact; life could not endure with
him. His dreaminess, his fancy, makes him happy in spite of the dreary
reality which surrounds him. The poor slave, with not a sixpence in his
pocket, dreams of the time when he shall be able to buy himself, and
revels in this most delightful Utopia.
I had walked on for some distance, without meeting any object of special
interest, when, passing through a large "_deadening_," I was surprised
to see a gentleman seated upon a fragment of what had once been a noble
tree. He was engaged at that occupation which is commonly considered to
denote want of thought, viz., _whittling a stick_.
I stopped suddenly, and looked at him very eagerly, for now, with the
broad day-light streaming over him, I recognized the one whom I had
watched in the dubious moonbeams! This was Mr. Robert Worth, the man who
held those dangerous Abolition principles--the fanatic, who was rash
enough to express, south of Mason and Dixon's line, the opinion that
negroes are human beings and entitled to consideration. Here now he was,
and I could look at him. How I longed to speak to him, to talk with him,
hear him tell all his generous views; to ask questions as to those free
Africans at the North who had achieved name and fame, and learn more of
the distinguished orator, Frederick Douglass! So great was my desire,
that I was almost ready to break through restraint, and, forgetful of my
own position, fling myself at his feet, and beg him to comfort me. Then
came the memory of Miss Bradly's treachery, and I sheathed my heart.
"No, no, I will not again trust to white people. They have no sympathy
with us, our natures are too simple for their cunning;" and, reflecting
thus, I walked on, yet I felt as if I could not pass him. He had spoken
so nobly in behalf of the slave, had uttered such lofty sentiments, that
my whole soul bowed down to him in worship. I longed to pay homage to
him. There is a principle in the slave's nature to reverence, to look
upward; hence, he makes the most devout Christian, and were it not for
this same spirit, he would be but a poor servant.
So it was with difficulty I could let pass this opportunity of speaking
with one whom I held in such veneration; but I governed myself and went
on. All the distance I was pondering upon what I had heard in relation
to those of my brethren who had found an asylum in the North. Oh, once
there, I could achieve so much! I felt, within myself, a latent power,
that, under more fortunate circumstances, might be turned to advantage.
When I reached Doctor Mandy's residence I found that he had gone out to
visit a patient. His wife came out to see me, and asked,
"Who is sick at Mr. Peterkin's?"
I told her, "Aunt Polly, the cook."
"Is much the matter?"
"Yes, Madam; young master thinks she has lost her reason."
"Lost her reason!" exclaimed Mrs. Mandy.
"Yes, Madam; she doesn't seem to know any of us, and evidently wanders
in her thoughts." I could not repress the evidence of emotion when I
remembered how kind to me the old creature had been, nay, that for me
she had received the blow which had deprived her of reason.
"Poor girl, don't cry," said Mrs. Mandy. This lady was of a warm, good
heart, and was naturally touched at the sight of human suffering; she
was one of that quiet sort of beings who feel a great deal and say but
little. Fearful of giving offence, she usually kept silence, lest the
open expression of her sympathy should defeat the purpose. A weak,
though a good person, she now felt annoyed because she had been beguiled
into even pity for a servant. She did not believe in slavery, yet she
dared not speak against the "peculiar institution" of the South. It
would injure the doctor's practice, a matter about which she must be
careful.
I knew my place too well to say much; therefore I observed a respectful
silence.
"Now, Ann, you had better hurry home. I expect there is great excitement
at your house, and the ladies will need your services to-day,
particularly; to remain out too long might excite suspicion, and be of
no service to you."
My looks plainly showed how entire was my acquiescence. She must have
known this, and then, as if self-interest suggested it, she said,
"You have a good home, Ann, I hope you will never do as Lindy has done.
Homes like yours are rare, and should be appreciated. Where will you
ever again find such kind mistresses and such a good master?"
"Homes such as mine are rare!" I would that they were; but, alas! they
are too common, as many farms in Kentucky can show! Oh, what a terrible
institution this one must be, which originates and involves so many
crimes! Now, here was a kind, honest-hearted woman, who felt assured of
the criminality of slavery; yet, as it is recognized and approved by
law, she could not, save at the risk of social position, pecuniary loss
and private inconvenience, even express an opinion against it. I was the
oppressed slave of one of her wealthy neighbors; she dared not offer me
even a word of pity, but needs must outrage all my nature by telling me
that I had a "good home, kind mistresses and a good master!" Oh, bitter
mockery of torn and lacerated feelings! My blood curdled as I listened.
How much I longed to fling aside the servility at which my whole soul
revolted, and tell her, with a proud voice, how poorly I thought she
supported the dignity of a true womanhood, when thus, for the poor
reward of gold, she could smile at, and even encourage, a system which
is at war with the best interest of human nature; which aims a deadly
blow at the very machinery of society; aye, attacks the noble and
venerable institution of marriage, and breaks asunder ties which God has
commanded us to reverence! This is the policy of that institution, which
Southern people swear they will support even with their life-blood! I
have ransacked my brain to find out a clue to the wondrous infatuation.
I have known, during the years of my servitude, men who had invested
more than half of their wealth in slaves; and he is generally accounted
the greatest gentleman, who owns the most negroes. Now, there is a
reason for the Louisiana or Mississippi planter's investing largely in
this sort of property; but why the Kentucky farmer should wish to own
slaves, is a mystery: surely it cannot be for the petty ambition of
holding human beings in bondage, lording it over immortal souls! Oh,
perverse and strange human nature! Thoughts like these, with a
lightning-like power, drove through my brain and influenced my mind
against Mrs. Mandy, who, I doubt not, was, at heart, a kind,
well-meaning woman. How can the slave be a philanthropist?
Without saying anything whereby my safety could be imperilled, I left
Mrs. Mandy's residence. When I had walked about a hundred yards from
the house, I turned and looked back, and was surprised to see her
looking after me. "Oh, white woman," I inwardly exclaimed, "nursed in
luxury, reared in the lap of bounty, with friends, home and kindred,
that mortal power cannot tear you from, how can _you_ pity the poor,
oppressed slave, who has no liberty, no right, no father, no brother, or
friend, only as the white man chooses he shall have!" Who could expect
these children of wealth, fostered by prosperity, and protected by the
law, to feel for the ignorant negro, who through ages and generations
has been crushed and kept in ignorance? We are told to love our masters!
Why should we? Are we dogs to lick the hand that strikes us? Or are we
men and women with never-dying souls--men and women unprotected in the
very land they have toiled to beautify and adorn! Oh, little, little do
ye know, my proud, free brothers and sisters in the North, of all the
misery we endure, or of the throes of soul that we have! The humblest of
us feel that we are deprived of something that we are entitled to by the
law of God and nature.
I rambled on through the woods, wrapped in the shadows of gloom and
misanthropy. "Why," I asked myself, "can't I be a hog or dog to come at
the call of my owner? Would it not be better for me if I could repress
all the lofty emotions and generous impulses of my soul, and become a
spiritless thing? I would swap natures with the lowest insect, the
basest serpent that crawls upon the earth. Oh, that I could quench this
thirsty spirit, satisfy this hungry heart, that craveth so madly the
food and drink of knowledge! Is it right to conquer the spirit, which
God has given us? Is it best for a high-souled being to sit supinely
down and bear the vile trammels of an unnatural and immoral bondage? Are
these aspirings sent us from above? Are they wings lent the spirit from
an angel? Or must they be clipped and crushed as belonging to the evil
spirit?" As I walked on, in this state of mind, I neared the spot where
I had beheld the interesting stranger.
To my surprise and joy I found him still there, occupied as before, in
whittling, perhaps the same stick. You, my free friends, who, from the
fortunate accident of birth, are entitled to the heritage of liberty,
can but poorly understand how very humble and degraded American slavery
makes the victim. Now, though I knew this man possessed the very
information for which I so longed, I dared not presume to address him on
a subject even of such vital import. I dare say, and indeed after-times
proved, this young apostle of reform would have applauded as heroism
what then seemed to me as audacity.
With many a lingering look toward him, I pursued the "noiseless tenor of
my way."
CHAPTER XVI.
A REFLECTION--AMERICAN ABOLITIONISTS--DISAFFECTION IN KENTUCKY--THE
YOUNG MASTER--HIS REMONSTRANCE.
Upon my arrival home I found that the doctor, lured by curiosity, and
not by business, had called. The news of Lindy's flight had reached him
in many garbled and exaggerated forms; so he had come to assure himself
of the truth. Of course, with all a Southern patriot's ire, he
pronounced Lindy's conduct an atrocious crime, for which she should
answer with life, or that far worse penalty (as some thought),
banishment "down the river." Thought I not strangely, severely, of those
persons, the doctor and the ladies, as they sat there, luxuriating over
a bottle of wine, denouncing vengeance against a poor, forlorn girl, who
was trying to achieve her liberty;--heroically contending for that on
which Americans pride themselves? Had she been a Hungarian or an Irish
maid, seeking an asylum from the tyranny of a King, she would have been
applauded as one whose name was worthy to be enrolled in the litany of
heroes; but she was a poor, ignorant African, with a sooty face, and
because of this all sympathy was denied her, and she was pronounced
nothing but a "runaway negro," who deserved a terrible punishment; and
the hand outstretched to relieve her, would have been called guilty of
treason. Oh, wise and boastful Americans, see ye no oppression in all
this, or do ye exult in that odious spot, which will blacken the fairest
page of your history "to the last syllable of recorded time"? Does not a
blush stain your cheeks when you make vaunting speeches about the
character of your government? Ye cannot, I know ye cannot, be easy in
your consciences; I know that a secret, unspoken trouble gnaws like a
canker in your breasts! Many of you veil your eyes, and grope through
the darkness of this domestic oppression; you will not listen to the
cries of the helpless, but sit supinely down and argue upon the "right"
of the thing. There were kind and tender-hearted Jews, who felt that the
crucifixion of the Messiah was a fearful crime, yet fear sealed their
lips. And are there not now time-serving men, who are worthy and capable
of better things, but from motives of policy will offer no word against
this barbarous system of slavery? Oh, show me the men, like that little
handful at the North, who are willing to forfeit everything for the
maintenance of human justice and mercy. Blessed apostles, near to the
mount of God! your lips have been touched with the flame of a new
Pentecost, and ye speak as never men spake before! Who that listens to
the words of Parker, Sumner, and Seward, can believe them other than
inspired? Theirs is no ordinary gift of speech; it burns and blazes with
a mighty power! Cold must be the ear that hears them unmoved; and hard
the heart that throbs not in unison with their noble and earnest
expressions! Often have I paused in this little book, to render a feeble
tribute to these great reformers. It may be thought out of place, yet I
cannot repress the desire to speak my voluntary gratitude, and, in the
name of all my scattered race, thank them for the noble efforts they
have made in our behalf!
All the malignity of my nature was aroused against Miss Bradly, when I
heard her voice loudest in denunciation against Lindy.
As I was passing through the room, I could catch fragments of
conversation anything but pleasing to the ear of a slave; but I had to
listen in meekness, letting not even a working muscle betray my dissent.
They were orthodox, and would not tolerate even from an equal a word
contrary to their views.