CHAPTER X. A Perilous Passage in the Slave Girl's Life. After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to have an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me, in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered, but I was constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a home of my own, and to make a lady of me. After two I had escaped my dreaded fate by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had high word with my master about me. She told him pretty plainly what she thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in the neighbourhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouth jealousy of Mrs. Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build a house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme. But I soon heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my maker that I would never enter it. I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till dusk. I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on from day to day through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I so hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made my life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at last in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do anything, everything, for the sake of defeating him. What could I do? I thought and thought, till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss. And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame. It pains me to tell you of it. But I have promised to tell you the truth, and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master. For it was not so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness.  The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that they had had on other young girls. They had made me prematurely knowing, concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with deliberate calculation. But oh ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, who have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes are protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely. If slavery had been abolished, I also could have married the man of my choice. I could have had a home shielded by the laws, and I should have been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate. But all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myself pure, and under the most adverse circumstances I tried hard to preserve my self-respect, but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of the demon's slavery, and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I was forsaken by God and man, as if all my efforts must be frustrated, and I became reckless in my despair. I have told you that Dr. Flint's persecutions and his wife's jealousy had given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood. Among others it chanced that a white, unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the circumstances in which I was placed. He knew my grandmother, and often spoke to me in the street. He became interested for me, and asked questions about my master, which I answered in part. He expressed a great deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me. He constantly sought opportunities to see me, and wrote to me frequently.  So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering, for human nature is the same in all. I also felt grateful for his sympathy, and encouraged by his kind words. It seemed to me a great thing to have such a friend. By degrees a more tender feeling crept into my heart. He was an educated and eloquent gentleman. Too eloquent a last for the poor slave girl who trusted in him. Of course I saw whether all this was tending. I knew the impassable gulf between us. But to be an object of interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her any pride or sentiment. It seems less degrading to give oneself than to submit to compulsion. There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment.  Moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy. There may be sophistry in all this, but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of morality, and in fact renders the practice of them impossible. When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described—revenge and calculations of interest—were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude for kindness. I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flinch so much as to know that I favoured another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me. He was a man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easily obtained from him. The crisis of my fate now came so near that I was desperate. I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that should be owned by my old tyrant. I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them, especially if they had children. I had seen several women sold with babies at the breast. He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long inside of himself and his wife. A man who was not my master I could ask to have my children well supported, and in this case I felt confident I should obtain the boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave, to be entirely unprotected by law or custom, to have the laws reduce you to the condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You never exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares and eluding the power of a hated tyrant. You never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps and trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feel it more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will haunt me to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly on the events of my life, I feel that the slave-woman ought not to be judged by the same standard as others. The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over the sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me from harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that it was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most of the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of her love, but I could not utter the dreaded words. As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the thought of telling him. From time to time he told me of his intended arrangements, and I was silent. At last he came and told me the cottage was completed and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enter it. He said, I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go if you are carried by force, and you shall remain there. I replied, I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother.  I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. All as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now how could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone. I had resolved that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, Let the storm beat. I will brave it till I die. And now how humiliated I felt. I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door, and began to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. The mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for her children. After they have entered their teens, she lives in daily expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully. And this well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels. She incame my mistress, like a madwoman, and accused me concerning her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened, believed what she said.  I'd rather see you dead than to see you as you are now.  She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring and her silver thimble. Go away, she exclaimed, and never come to my house again. Her approaches fell so hot and heavy that they left me no chance to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not speak to me. But the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me. So kind. How I longed to throw myself at her feet and tell her all the truth. But she had ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes I mustered strength and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now close that little gate which I used to open with such an eager hand in my childhood? It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before. Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my masters. I walked on recklessly, not caring where I went or what would become of me. When I had gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me. How they mocked me with their bright, calm light. The hours passed by, and as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank on the ground.  I prayed to die, but the prayer was not answered. At last with great effort I roused myself and walked some distance further to the house of a woman who had been a friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there she spoke soothingly to me, but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case and all I had been bearing for years she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend advised me to send for her. I did so. But days of agonizing suspense passed before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt before her and told her the things that had poisoned my life, how long I had been persecuted, that I saw no way of escape, and in an hour of extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her I would bear anything, and do anything, if in time I had hopes of attaining her forgiveness.    CHAPTER XI. THE NEW TIE TO LIFE. I returned to my good grandmother's house. She had an interview with Mr. Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one you lamb, whether there was not plenty of slaves who did not care about character, he made no answer, but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might. I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself, how I had sinned against my master and mortified my old grandmother. He intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he have offered wormwood more bitter? He whose persecutions had been the cause of my sin. "'Linda,' said he, "'though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, you shall feel the fires of hell.' I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his abuse and silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had always treated me honorably, when I remembered that but for him I might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. "'I have sinned against God and myself,' I replied, but not against you.' He clenched his teeth and muttered, "'Curse you.' He came towards me with ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, "'You obstinate girl. I could grind your bones to powder. You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal.  The future will settle accounts between us. You are blinded now. But hereafter you will be convinced that your master was your best friend. My lenity towards you is proof of it. I might have punished you in many ways. I might have whipped till you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to live. I would have bettered your condition. Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, forbids you to return to the house. Therefore I leave you here for the present. But I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.' He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty, that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed.  I hesitated. Answer me this instant. He exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. Do you love him? He said, in a hissing tone. I am thankful that I do not despise him, I replied. He raised his hand to strike me, but it fell again. I don't know what arrested the blow. He sat down with lips tightly compressed. At last he spoke. I came here, said he, to make you a friendly proposition. But your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good intentions towards you.  Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me. But he resumed, on one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of your child. You must not ask anything from him, or receive anything from him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act of mercy I shall show towards you."  He rejoined that a woman who had sunk to my level had no right to expect anything else. He asked for the last time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not. "'Very well,' said he, then take the consequences of your wayward course. Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. I will never sell you. That you may depend upon.'" Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader, and I knew the father of my child was on the watch to buy me. At this time my uncle Philip was expected to return from a voyage. The day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray it. Only a year had passed, but what fearful changes it had wrought. My heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us know what a year may bring forth. I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first. But at last consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he had always done. Oh! how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks. The words of my grandmother came to my mind. Perhaps your mother and father are taken from the evil days to come. My disappointed heart could now praise God that it was so. And why, thought I, did my relatives ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had experienced a similar fate were a far worse one. How could they hope that I should escape? My uncle's stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I would not have him sent for. At last alarmed by my increasing illness, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous, and as soon as he entered the room I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew. When my babe was born they said it was premature. It weighed only four pounds. But God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive till morning. I had often prayed for death. But now I did not want to die—unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe was also sickly. His little limbs were often wracked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits to look after my health, and he did not fail to remind me that my child was in addition to his stock of slaves. I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in silence. His visits were less frequent, but his busy spirit could not remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was made the medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leach, cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my brother, and the old doctor suspected as much. One day when I had not seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course, but I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office and dispatched William with a note. The colour mounted to my brother's face when he gave it to me, and he said, "'Don't you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?' I told him I could not blame him. He was a slave, and obliged to obey his master's will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual themes, my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated that my brother should stand by and listen to such language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me. But I saw the tears which he vainly strove to keep back. The manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual, and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work, but everything went wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his old stand with many threats if he was not careful about his future behaviour. As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain. When I was most sorely oppressed, I found a solace in his smiles. I loved to watch his infant slumbers. But always there was a dark cloud over my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave.  God tried me. My darling became very ill. The bright eyes grew dull and the little feet and hands were so icy cold that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life, and my prayer was heard. Alas!  Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he should bear his name, but he had no legal claim to it. And if I had bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a new piece of insolence, and would perhaps revenge it on the boy. Oh! the serpent of slavery has many and poisonous fangs! CHAPTER XII. OF INCIDENCE IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. Led by Elizabeth Klett, Houston, Texas, February 2008. Incidents in the life of a slave girl, written by herself, by Harriet Jacobs, written under the pseudonym Linda Brent. CHAPTER XII. FEAR OF INSURRECTION. Not far from this time Nat Turner's insurrection broke out, and the news threw our town into great commotion. It was strange that they should be alarmed when their slaves were so contented and happy. But so it was. It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their places in the ranks in everyday dress, some without shoes, some without hats. This grand occasion had already passed, and when the slaves were told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. Poor creatures. They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave, but I dared not. All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash. By sunrise people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched, and I expected it would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing annoyed them so much as to see coloured people living in comfort and respectability, so I made arrangements for them with special care. I arranged everything in my grandmother's house as neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged I sat down at the window to watch. As far as my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and fiefs were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a coloured face to be found. It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their own to scourge. They exalted in such a chance to exercise a little brief authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders, not reflecting that the power which trampled on the coloured people also kept themselves in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on innocent men, women, and children. Against whom there was not the slightest ground for suspicion. Coloured people and slaves who lived in remote parts of the town suffered in a special manner. In some cases the searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were plotting insurrection. Everywhere, men, women, and children were whipped till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes. Others were tied hands and feet and tortured with a bucking paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the coloured people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and everything else the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At night they formed themselves into patrol-bands, and went wherever they chose among the coloured people, acting out their brutal will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps to keep out of their way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public whipping-post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest tinge of colour in their faces dared to be seen talking together. I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open, and in they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at everything within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver chain was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, What do you follow us for? Do you suppose white folks has come to steal? I replied, You have come to search. But you have searched that box, and I will take it, if you please. At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us, and I called to him and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the outside of the house and see that none of the inmates left it. This officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slave-holder whom I mentioned, in the account of neighbouring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders, and if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant followers, who were unable to read. My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and tablecloth. When that was opened there was a great shout of surprise, and one exclaimed, Where the damn niggers get all this sheet and tablecloth? My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, said, You may be sure we didn't pill from your houses. Look here, mammy, said a grim-looking fellow without any coat. You seem to feel mighty grand, because you got all the mere fixings. White folks ought to have them all. His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, We's got him, we's got him! Desiree Allergale's got letters! There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. I told him it was one of my friends. Can you read them? he asked. When I told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. Bring me all your letters, said he, in commanding tone. I told him I had none. Don't be afraid, he continued, in an insinuating way. Bring them all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm. Seeing I did not move to obey him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. Who writes to you? Half-free-niggers, inquired he. I replied, Oh no! Most of my letters are from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I destroy without reading. An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties. Consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder and said, Well done!  Meaning preserves. I stretched out my hand to take the jar, saying, You were not sent here to search for sweet-meats. And what were we sent for, said the captain, bristling up to me. I evaded the question. The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine with no better success. The captain called his men together, and after a short consultation the order to march was given. As they passed out of the gate the captain turned back and pronounced a malediction on the house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its inmates received thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very fortunately, not losing anything except some wearing apparel. Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually ran to the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white man with his musket upraised, threatening instant death that they did not stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old-colored minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to shoot him on Courthouse Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized country, a rabble staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the administrators of justice. The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the innocent persecuted people, and in several instances they succeeded by keeping them shut up in jail to the excitement abated. Had last the white citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless rabble they had summoned to protect them, they rallied the drunken swarm, drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town. The next day the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people that lived out of the city, and the most shocking outrages were committed with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail-yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man who had not fortitude to endure scourging promised to give information about the conspiracy, but it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a story, which augmented his own sufferings, and those of the colored people. The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released, the slaves were sent to their masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. Everything was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their burying-ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, when everybody else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction had been pronounced, the minister said, Come down now, my colored friends. They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine and commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, God is your father, and all ye are brethren. End of CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. FROM INCIDENCE IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Elizabeth Klett, Houston, Texas, May 2008. INCIDENCE IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL. Written by herself. By Harriet Jacobs. Written under the pseudonym Linda Brent. CHAPTER XIII. THE CHURCH AND SLAVERY. After the alarm caused by Nat Turner's insurrection had subsided, the slave-holders came to the conclusion that it would be well to give the slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from murdering their masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold a separate service on Sundays for their benefit. His colored members were very few, and also very respectable, a fact which I presume had some weight with him. The difficulty was to decide on a suitable place for them to worship. The Methodist and Baptist churches admitted them in the afternoon, but their carpets and cushions were not so costly as those at the Episcopal Church. It was at last decided that they should meet at the house of a free colored man, who was a member. I was invited to attend, because I could read. Sunday evening came, and, trusting to the cover of night, I ventured out. I rarely ventured out by daylight, for I always went with fear, expecting at every turn to encounter Dr. Flint, who was sure to turn me back, or order me to his office to inquire where I got my bonnet, or some other article of dress. When the Reverend Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present. The Reverend Gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and requested all present, who could read, to open their books, while he gave out the portions he wished them to repeat or respond to. His text was, Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters, according to the flesh, with fear and trembling in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ. Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and in deep solemn tones began, Harkin ye servants, give strict heed unto my words, you are rebellious sinners.   You that live in town or I, servants, behind your master's back. Instead of serving your master's faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight of your heavenly master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God sees you. You tell lies. God hears you. Instead of being engaged in worshipping him, you are hidden away somewhere, feasting on your master's substance, tossing coffee-grounds with some wicked fortune-teller, or cutting cards with another old hag.  O the depravity of your hearts! When your master's work is done, are you quietly together, thinking of the goodness of God to such sinful creatures? No, you are quarreling, and tying up little bags of roots to bury under the door-steps to poison each other with. God sees you. You men steal away to every grog shop to sell your master's corn, that you may buy rum to drink. God sees you. You sneak into the back streets, or among the bushes, to pitch coppers.  You must forsake your sinful ways, and be faithful servants. Obey your old master and your young master, your old mistress and your young mistress.  You must obey God's commandments. When you go from here, don't stop at the corners of the streets to talk, but go directly home, and let your master and mistress see that you have come." The benediction was pronounced. We went home, highly amused at Brother Pike's gospel teaching, and we determined to hear him again. I went the next sabbath evening, and heard pretty much a repetition of the last discourse. At the close of the meeting Mr. Pike informed us that he found it very inconvenient to meet at the friend's house, and he should be glad to see us every Sunday evening, at his own kitchen. I went home with the feeling that I had heard the reverend Mr. Pike for the last time. Some of his members repaired to his house, and found that the kitchen sported two tallow candles, the first time, I am sure, since its present occupant owned it, for the servants never had anything but pine knots. It was so long before the reverend gentleman descended from his comfortable parlor that the slaves left, then went away to enjoy a methodist shout. They never seemed so happy as when shouting and singing at religious meetings. Many of them are sincere, and nearer to the gate of heaven than sanctimonious Mr. Pike, and other long-faced Christians, who see wounded Samaritans and pass by on the other side. The slaves generally compose their own songs and hymns, and they do not trouble their heads much about the measure. They often sing the following verses. Old Satan is one busy old man. He rolls dem blocks all in my way. But Jesus is my bosom friend. He rolls dem blocks away. If I had died when I was young, then how my stammering tongue would have sung! But I am old, and now I stand a narrow chance for to tread that heavenly land. I well remember one occasion when I attended a Methodist class meeting. I went with a burdened spirit, and happened to sit next to poor bereaved mother, whose heart was still heavier than mine. The class leader was the town constable, a man who bought and sold slaves, who whipped his brethren and sisters of the church at the public whipping-post, in jail or out-of-jail. He was ready to perform that Christian office anywhere for fifty cents. This white-faced, black-hearted brother came near us, and said to this stricken woman, Sister, can't you tell us how the Lord deals with your soul? Do you love him as you did formerly? She rose to her feet, and said in piteous tones, My Lord and Master, help me. My load is more than I can bear. God has hid himself from me, and I am left in darkness and misery. Then striking her breast, she continued, I can't tell you what is in here. They've got all my children. Last week they took the last one. God only knows where they've sold her.  I've got nothing to live for now. God make my time short. She sat down, quivering in every limb. I saw that constable-class leader become crimson in the face with suppressed laughter, while he held up his handkerchief, that those who were weeping for the poor woman's calamity might not see his merriment. Then with assumed gravity he said to the bereaved mother, Sister, pray to the Lord that every dispensation of his divine will may be sanctified to the good of your poor, needy soul. The congregation struck up a hymn, and sung as though they were as free as the birds that warbled round us. Old Satan thought he had a mighty aim. He missed my soul and caught my sins. Cry, amen, cry, amen, cry, amen to God.  Cry, amen, cry, amen, cry, amen to God. Old Satan's church is here below, up to God's free church I hope to go. Cry, amen, cry, amen, cry, amen to God. Precious are such moments to the poor slaves. If you were to hear them at such times you might think they were happy. But can that hour of singing and shouting sustain them through the dreary week, toiling without wages, under constant dread of the lash? The Episcopal clergyman, who ever since my earliest recollection had been a sort of God among the slaveholders, concluded, as his family was large, that he must go where money was more abundant. A very different clergyman took his place. The change was very agreeable to the colored people, who said, God has sent us a good man this time. They loved him, and their children followed him for a smile or kind word. Even the slaveholders felt his influence. He brought to the rectory five slaves. His wife taught them to read and write and to be useful to her and themselves. As soon as he was settled he turned his attention to the needy slaves around him. He urged upon his parishioners the duty of having a meeting expressly for them every Sunday, with the sermon adapted to their comprehension. After much argument and importunity, it was finally agreed that they might occupy the gallery of the church on Sunday evenings. Many colored people, hitherto unaccustomed to attend church, now glad they went to hear the gospel preached. The sermons were simple, and they understood them. Moreover, it was the first time they had ever been addressed as human beings. It was not long before his white parishioners began to be dissatisfied. He was accused of preaching better sermons to the negroes than he did to them. He honestly confessed that he bestowed more pains upon those sermons than upon any others, for the slaves were reared in such ignorance that it was a difficult task to adapt himself to their comprehension. Desensions arose in the parish. Some wanted he should preach to them in the evening, and to the slaves in the afternoon. In the midst of these disputings his wife died after a very short illness. Her slaves gathered round her dying bed in great sorrow. She said, "'I have tried to do you good and promote your happiness, and if I have failed it has not been for want of interest in your welfare. Do not weep for me. But prepare for the new duties that lie before you. I leave you all free. May we meet in a better world.'" Her liberated slaves were sent away with funds to establish them comfortably. The colored people will long bless the memory of that truly Christian woman. Soon after her death her husband preached his farewell sermon, and many tears were shed at his departure. Several years after he passed through our town and preached to his former congregation. In his afternoon sermon he addressed the colored people. "'My friends,' said he, "'it affords me great happiness to have an opportunity of speaking to you again. For two years I have been striving to do something for the colored people of my own parish, but nothing is yet accomplished. I have not even preached a sermon to them. Try to live according to the word of God, my friends. Your skin is darker than mine. But God judges men by their hearts, not by the color of their skins. This was strange doctrine from a southern pulpit. It was very offensive to slave-holders.  I knew an old black man, whose piety and childlike trust in God were beautiful to witness. At fifty-three years old he joined the Baptist Church. He had a most earnest desire to learn to read. He thought he should know how to serve God better if he could only read the Bible. He came to me and begged me to teach him. He said he could not pay me, for he had no money. But he would bring me nice fruit when the season for it came. I asked him if he didn't know it was contrary to law, and that slaves were whipped and imprisoned for teaching each other to read. This brought the tears into his eyes. "'Don't be troubled, Uncle Fred,' said I. "'I have no thoughts of refusing to teach you. I only told you of the law that you might know the danger and be on your guard.' He thought he could plan to come three times a week without its being suspected. I selected a quiet nook where no intruder was likely to penetrate, and there I taught him his ABC. Considering his age, his progress was astonishing. As soon as he could spell in two syllables he wanted to spell out words in the Bible. The happy smile that illuminated his face put joy into my heart. After spelling out a few words he paused and said, "'Honey, it appears when I can read this good book I shall be nearer to God. White man has got all the sense. He can learn easy. It ain't easy for old black men like me. I only want to read this book, and I may know how to live. Then I have no fear about dying.' I tried to encourage him by speaking of the rapid progress he had made. "'Have patience, child,' he replied. I learned slow. I had no need of patience. His gratitude and the happiness imparted were more than a recompense for all my trouble. At the end of six months he had read through the New Testament, and could find any text in it.  "'Yee never gives me a lesson that I don't pray to God to help me to understand what I spells and what I reads, and he does help me, child. Bless his holy name.' There are thousands who, like good Uncle Fred, are thirsting for the water of life, but the law forbids it, and the churches withhold it. They send the Bible to heathen abroad, and neglect the heathen at home. I am glad that missionaries go out to the dark corners of the earth, but I ask them not to overlook the dark corners at home. Talk to American slave-holders as you talk to savages in Africa. Tell them it was wrong to traffic in men. Tell them it is sinful to sell their own children, and atrocious to violate their own daughters. Tell them that all men are brethren, and that man has no right to shut out the light of knowledge from his brother. Tell them they are answerable to God for sealing up the fountain of life from souls that are thirsting for it. There are men who would gladly undertake such missionary work as this, but alas their number is small. They are hated by the South, and would be driven from its soil, or dragged to prison to die as others have been before them. The field is ripe for the harvest, and awaits the reapers. Perhaps the great-grandchildren of Uncle Fred may have freely imparted to them the divine treasures which he sought by stealth at the risk of the prison and the scourge. Are doctors of divinity blind, or are they hypocrites? I suppose some are the one, and some the other. But I think if they felt the interest in the poor and lowly, that they ought to feel, they would not be so easily blinded. A clergyman who goes to the South for the first time has usually some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The slave-holder suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes himself as agreeable as possible, talks on theology and other kindred topics. The reverent gentleman is asked to invoke a blessing on a table loaded with luxuries. After dinner he walks round the premises and sees the beautiful groves and flowering vines, and the comfortable huts of favoured household slaves. The Southerner invites him to talk with those slaves. He asks them if they want to be free, and they say, oh no, Massa! This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a south side view of slavery, and to complain of the exaggerations of the abolitionists. He assures people that he has been to the South and seen slavery for himself, that it is a beautiful, patriarchal institution, that the slaves don't want their freedom, that they have hallelujah meetings and other religious privileges. What does he know of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till dark on the plantations, of mothers shrieking for their children, torn from their arms by slave-traders, of young girls dragged down into moral filth, of pools of blood around the whipping-post, of hounds trained to tear human flesh, of men screwed into cottongens to die—the slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared not tell them if he had asked them. There is a great difference between Christianity and religion at the South. If a man goes to the communion table and pays money into the treasury of the church, no matter if it be the price of blood, he is called religious. If a pastor has offspring by a woman not his wife, the church dismisses him if she is a white woman, but if she is colored, it does not hinder his continuing to be their good shepherd. When I was told that Dr. Flint had joined the Episcopal Church, I was much surprised. I supposed that religion had a purifying effect on the character of men, but the worst persecutions I endured from him were after he was a communicant. The conversation of the doctor, the day after he had been confirmed, certainly gave me no indication that he had renounced the devil in all his works. In answer to some of his usual talk, I reminded him that he had just joined the church. Yes, Linda, said he, it was proper for me to do so. I am getting on in years, and my position in society requires it, and it puts an end to all the damned slang. You would do well to join the church, too, Linda. There are sinners enough in it already, rejoined I. If I could be allowed to live like a Christian, I should be glad. You can do what I require, and if you are faithful to me, you will be as virtuous as my wife," he replied. I answered that the Bible didn't say so. His voice became hoarse with rage.  What right have you, who are my negro, to talk to me about what you would like and what you wouldn't like? I am your master, and you shall obey me. No wonder the slaves sing, All Satan's church is here below. Up to God's free church I hope to go. CHAPTER XIV OF INCIDENCE IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Elizabeth Clatt, Houston, Texas, April 2008. Incidents in the life of a slave girl, written by herself, by Harriet Jacobs, written under the pseudonym Linda Brent. CHAPTER XIV ANOTHER LINK TO LIFE I had not returned to my master's house since the birth of my child. The old man raved to have me thus removed from his immediate power, but his wife vowed by all that was good and great, she would kill me if I came back, and he did not doubt her word. Sometimes he would stay away for a season, then he would come and renew the old threadbare discourse about his forbearance and mine gratitude. He labored most unnecessarily to convince me that I had lowered myself. The venomous old reprobate had no need of discounting on that theme. I felt humiliated enough. My unconscious bae was the ever-present witness of my shame. I listened with silent contempt when he talked about my having forfeited his good opinion, but I shed bitter tears that I was no longer worthy of being respected by the good and pure. Alas, slavery still held me in its poisonous grasp. There was no chance for me to be respectable. There was no prospect of being able to lead a better life.  Perhaps that will humble you, said he. Humble me! Was I not already in the dust? But his threat lacerated my heart. I knew the law gave him power to fulfill it, for slaveholders have been cunning enough to enact that the child shall follow the condition of the mother, not of the father, thus taking care that licentiousness shall not interfere with avarice. This reflection made me clasp my innocent bae all the more firmly to my heart. Horrid visions passed through my mind when I thought of his liability to fall into the slave trader's hands.  When Dr. Flint learned that I was again to be a mother, he was exasperated beyond measure. He rushed from the house and returned with a pair of shears. I had a fine head of hair, and he often railed about my pride of arranging it nicely. He cut every hair close to my head, storming and swearing all the time. I replied to some of his abuse, and he struck me. Some months before he had pitched me downstairs in a fit of passion, and the injury I received was so serious that I was unable to turn myself in bed for many days. He then said, Linda, I swear by God I will never raise my hand against you again. But I knew that he would forget his promise. After he discovered my situation he was like a restless spirit from the pit. He came every day, and I was subjected to such insults as no pen can describe. I would not describe them if I could. They were too low, too revolting. I tried to keep them from my grandmother's knowledge as much as I could. I knew she had enough to sadden her life without having my troubles to bear. When she saw the doctor treat me with violence and heard him utter oaths terrible enough to palsy a man's tongue, she could not always hold her peace. It was natural and motherlike that she should try to defend me, but it only made matters worse. When they told me my newborn babe was a girl, my heart was heavier than it had ever been before. Slavery is terrible for men, but it is far more terrible for women. Super added to the burden common to all, they have wrongs and sufferings and mortifications peculiarly their own. Dr. Flint had sworn that he would make me suffer to my last day for this new crime against him, as he called it, and as long as he had me in his power he kept his word. On the fourth day after the birth of my babe he entered my room suddenly, and commanded me to rise and bring my baby to him. The nurse who took care of me had gone out of the room to prepare some nourishment, and I was alone. There was no alternative. I rose, took up my babe, and crossed the room to where he sat. "'Now stand there,' said he, till I tell you to go back.' My child bore a strong resemblance to her father, and to the deceased Mrs. Sands, her grandmother. We noticed this, and while I stood before him trembling with weakness, he heaped upon me and my little one every vile epithet he could think of. Even the grandmother in her grave did not escape his curses. In the midst of his vituperations I fainted at his feet. This recalled him to his senses. He took the baby from my arms, laid it on the bed, dashed cold water in my face, took me up, and shook me violently to restore my consciousness before anyone entered the room. Just then my grandmother came in, and he hurried out of the house. I suffered in consequence of this treatment, but I begged my friends to let me die rather than send for the doctor. There was nothing I dreaded so much as his presence. My life was spared, and I was glad for the sake of my little ones. Had it not been for these ties to life I should have been glad to be released by death, though I had lived only nineteen years. Always it gave me a pang that my children had no lawful claim to a name. Their father offered his, but if I had wished to accept the offer I dared not while my master lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be accepted at their baptism. A Christian name they were at least entitled to, and we resolved to call my boy for our dear good Benjamin, who had gone far away from us. My grandmother belonged to the church, and she was very desirous of having the children christened. I knew Dr. Flint would forbid it, and I did not venture to attempt it. That chance favoured me. He was called to visit a patient out of town, and was obliged to be absent during Sunday. Now is the time, said my grandmother, we will take the children to church, and have them christened. When I entered the church, recollections of my mother came over me, and I felt subdued in spirit. There she had presented me for baptism without any reason to feel ashamed. She had been married, and had such legal rights as slavery allows to a slave. The vows had at least been sacred to her, and she had never violated them. I was glad she was not alive to know under what different circumstances her grandchildren were presented for baptism. Why had my lot been so different from my mother's? Her master had died when she was a child, and she remained with her mistress till she married. She was never in the power of any master, and thus she escaped one class of the evils that generally fall upon slaves. When my baby was about to be christened, the former mistress of my father stepped up to me, and proposed to give it her christened name. To this I added the surname of my father, who had himself no legal right to it, for my grandfather on the paternal side was a white gentleman. What tangled skeins are the genealogies of slavery? I loved my father, but it mortified me to be obliged to bestow his name on my children. When we left the church, my father's old mistress invited me to go home with her. She clasped a gold chain round my baby's neck. I thanked her for this kindness, but I did not like the emblem. I wanted no chain to be fastened on my daughter, not even if its links were of gold. How earnestly I prayed that she might never feel the weight of slavery's chain, whose iron entereth into the soul. CHAPTER XIV. CONTINUED PERSECUTIONS. My children grew finely, and Dr. Flint would often say to me with an exulting smile, �These brats will bring me a handsome sum of money one of these days.� I thought to myself that God, being my helper, they should never pass into his hands. It seemed to me I would rather see them killed than have them given up to his power. The money for the freedom of myself and my children could be obtained, but I derived no advantage from that circumstance. Dr. Flint loved money, but he loved power more. After much discussion, my friends resolved on making another trial. There was a slave-holder about to leave for Texas, and he was commissioned to buy me. He was to begin with nine hundred dollars, and go up to twelve. My master refused his offers. �Sir� said he, �She don't belong to me. She is my daughter's property, and I have no right to sell her. I mistrust that you come from her paramour. If so, you may tell him that he cannot buy her for any money. Neither can he buy her children.� The doctor came to see me the next day, and my heart beat quicker as he entered. I had never seen the old man tread with so majestic a step. He seated himself and looked at me with withering scorn. My children had learned to be afraid of him.  And Benny, who was now nearly five years old, often inquired, �What makes that bad man come here so many times? Does he want to hurt us?� I would clasp the dear boy in my arms, trusting that he would be free before he was old enough to solve the problem. And now, as the doctor sat there so grim and silent, the child left his play and came and nestled up by me. At last my tormentor spoke, �So, you are left in disgust, are you?� said he. �It is no more than I expected. You remember I told you years ago that you would be treated so? So he is tired of you. Ha-ha! The virtuous madam don't like to hear about it, does she? Ha-ha-ha! There was a sting in his calling me virtuous madam. I no longer had the power of answering him as I had formally done.� He continued, �So it seems you are trying to get up another intrigue. Your new paramour came to me and offered to buy you. But you may be assured you will not succeed.  There lives no human being that can take you out of slavery. I would have done it, but you rejected my kind offer.� I told him I did not wish to get up any intrigue that I had never seen the man who offered to buy me. �Do you tell me I lie?� exclaimed he, dragging me from my chair. �Will you say again that you never saw that man?� I answered, �I do say so.� He clenched my arm with a volley of oaths.  The child drew nearer to me, and put his arms round me as if he wanted to protect me. This was too much for my enraged master. He caught him up and hurled him across the room. I thought he was dead, and rushed towards him to take him up. �Not yet!� exclaimed the doctor. Let him lie there till he comes to. Let me go! Let me go!� I screamed, or I will raise the whole house. I struggled and got away, but he clenched me again. Somebody opened the door, and he released me.  Anxiously I bent over the little form, so pale and still, and when the brown eyes at last opened I don't know whether I was very happy. All the doctor's former persecutions were renewed. He came morning, noon, and night. No jealous lover ever watched a rival more closely than he watched me in the unknown slave-holder with whom he accused me of wishing to get up in intrigue. When my grandmother was out of the way he searched every room to find him. In one of his visits he happened to find a young girl whom he had sold to a trader a few days previous. His statement was that he sold her because she had been too familiar with the overseer. She had had a bitter life with him, and was glad to be sold. She had no mother and no near ties. She had been torn from all her family years before. A few friends had entered into bonds for her safety, if the trader would allow her to spend with them the time that intervened between her sale and the gathering up of his human stock. Such a favour was rarely granted. It saved the trader the expense of board and jail fees, and though the amount was small, it was a weighty consideration in a slave trader's mind. Dr. Flint always had an aversion to meeting slaves after he had sold them. He ordered Rose out of the house, but he was no longer her master, and she took no notice of him. For once the crushed Rose was the conqueror. His grey eyes flashed angrily upon her, but that was the extent of his power. "'How came this girl here?' he exclaimed. What right had you to allow it when you knew I had sold her?' I answered. "'This is my grandmother's house, and Rose came to see her. I have no right to turn anybody out of doors that comes here for honest purposes.' He gave me the blow that would have fallen upon Rose if she had been still his slave. My grandmother's attention had been attracted by loud voices, and she entered in time to see a second blow dealt.  The doctor undertook to explain that I had been insolent. Her indignant feelings rose higher and higher, and finally boiled over in words. "'Get out of my house,' she exclaimed. "'Go home, and take care of your wife and children, and you will have enough to do without watching my family.' He threw the birth of my children in her face, and accused her of sanctioning the life I was leading. She told him I was living with her by compulsion of his wife, that he needn't accuse her, for he was the one to blame, he was the one who had caused all the trouble. She grew more and more excited as she went on. "'I tell you what, Dr. Flint,' said she, "'you ain't got many more years to live, and you'd better be saying your prayers.  She replied, "'Yes, I know very well who I am talking to.' He left the house in a great rage. I looked at my grandmother. Our eyes met. Her angry expression had passed away, but she looked sorrowful and weary, weary of incessant strife. I wondered that it did not lessen her love for me, but if it did she never showed it. She was always kind, always ready to sympathize with my troubles. There might have been peace and contentment in that humble home, if it had not been for the demon's slavery. The winter passed undisturbed by the doctor. The beautiful spring came, and when nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also. My drooping hopes came to life again with the flowers. I was dreaming of freedom again, more for my children's sake than my own. I planned and I planned. Obstacles hit against plans. There seemed no way of overcoming them. And yet I hoped. Back came the wily doctor. I was not at home when he called. A friend had invited me to a small party, and to gratify her I went. To my great consternation a messenger came in haste to say that Dr. Flint was at my grandmother's, and insisted on seeing me. They did not tell him where I was, or he would have come and raised a disturbance in my friend's house. They sent me a dark wrapper. I threw it on and hurried home. My speed did not save me. The doctor had gone away in anger. I dreaded the morning, but I could not delay it. It came warm and bright. At an early hour the doctor came and asked me where I had been last night. I told him. He did not believe me, and sent to my friend's house to ascertain the facts. He came in the afternoon to assure me he was satisfied that I had spoken the truth. He seemed to be in a facetious mood, and I expected some jeers were coming. I suppose you needed some recreation, said he. But I am surprised that you are being there among those negroes. It was not the place for you. Are you allowed to visit such people? I understood this covert fling at the white gentleman who was my friend, but I merely replied, I went to visit my friends, and any company they keep is good enough for me. He went on to say, I have seen very little of you of late, but my interest in you is unchanged. When I said I would have no more mercy on you I was rash. I recall my words. Linda, you desire freedom for yourself and your children, and you can obtain it only through me. If you agree to what I am about to propose, you and they shall be free. There must be no communication of any kind between you and their father. I will procure a cottage where you and the children can live together. Your labour shall be light such as sewing for my family. Think what has offered you, Linda, a home and freedom. Let the past be forgotten. If I have been harsh with you at times your willfulness drove me to it. You know I exact obedience from my own children, and I consider you as yet a child." He paused for an answer, but I remained silent. Why don't you speak, said he, what more do you wait for? Nothing, sir. Then you accept my offer? No, sir. His anger was ready to break loose, but he succeeded in curbing it and replied, You have answered without thought, but I must let you know there are two sides to my proposition. If you reject the bright side you will be obliged to take the dark one. You must either accept my offer, or you and your children shall be sent to your young master's plantation, there to remain till your young mistress is married, and your children shall fare like the rest of the negro children. I give you a week to consider it. He was shrewd, but I knew he was not to be trusted. I told him I was ready to give my answer now. I will not receive it now, he replied. You act too much from impulse. Remember that you and your children can be free a week from to-day if you choose. And what a monstrous chance hung the destiny of my children! I knew that my master's offer was a snare, and that if I entered it escape would be impossible. As for his promise, I knew him so well that I was sure if he gave me free papers they would be so managed as to have no legal value. The alternative was inevitable. I resolved to go to the plantation. But then I thought how completely I should be in his power, and the prospect was appalling. Even if I should kneel before him and implore him to spare me for the sake of my children, I knew he would spurn me with his foot, and my weakness would be his triumph. Before the week expired, I heard that young Mr. Flint was about to be married to a lady of his own stamp. I foresaw the position I should occupy in his establishment. I had once been sent to the plantation for punishment, and fear of the son had induced the father to recall me very soon. My mind was made up. I was resolved that I would foil my master and save my children, or I would perish in the attempt. I kept my plans to myself. I knew that friends would try to dissuade me from them, and I would not wound their feelings by rejecting their advice. On the decisive day the doctor came, and said he hoped I had made a wise choice. I am ready to go to the plantation, sir," I replied. "'Have you thought how important your decision is to your children?' said he. I told him I had. "'Very well.  "'Your boy shall be put to work, and he shall soon be sold, and your girl shall be raised for the purpose of selling well.  He left the room with curses, not to be repeated. As I stood rooted to the spot, my grandmother came and said, "'Linda, child, what did you tell him?' I answered that I was going to the plantation. "'Must you go?' said she. "'Can't something be done to stop it?' I told her it was useless to try, but she begged me not to give up. She said she would go to the doctor, and remind him how long and how faithfully she had served in the family, and how she had taken her own baby from her breast to nourish his wife. She would tell him I had been out of the family so long they would not miss me, that she would pay them for my time, and the money would procure a woman who had more strength for the situation than I had. I begged her not to go, but she persisted in saying, "'He will listen to me, Linda.' She went, and was treated as I expected. He coolly listened to what she said, but denied her request. He told her that what he did was for my good, that my feelings were entirely above my situation, and that on the plantation I would receive treatment that was suitable to my behaviour. My grandmother was much cast down. I had my secret hopes, but I must fight my battle alone. I had a woman's pride and a mother's love for my children, and I resolved that out of the darkness of this hour a brighter dawn should rise for them. My master had power and law on his side. I had a determined will. There is might in each." CHAPTER XVI. INCIDENCE IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL, WRITTEN BY HERSELF by Harriet Jacobs, written under the pseudonym Linda Brent. CHAPTER XVI. SCENES AT THE PLANTATION. Early the next morning I left my grandmothers with my youngest child. My boy was ill, and I left him behind. I had many sad thoughts as the old wagon jolted on. Hitherto I had suffered alone. Now my little one was to be treated as a slave. As we drew near the great house, I thought of the time when I was formerly sent there out of revenge. I wondered for what purpose I was now sent. I could not tell. I resolved to obey orders so far as duty required, but within myself I determined to make my stay as short as possible. Mr. Flint was waiting to receive us, and told me to follow him upstairs to receive orders for the day. My little Ellen was left below in the kitchen. It was a change for her, who had been always so carefully tended. My young master said she might amuse herself in the yard. This was kind of him, since the child was hateful to his sight. My task was to fit up the house for the reception of the bride. In the midst of sheets, tablecloths, towels, drapery, and carpeting, my head was as busy, planning, as were my fingers with the needle. At noon I was allowed to go to Ellen. She had sobbed herself to sleep. I heard Mr. Flint say to a neighbour, I've got her down here, and I'll soon take the town notions out of her head. My father is partly to blame for her nonsense. He ought to have broke her in long ago. The remark was made within my hearing, and it would have been quite as manly to have made it to my face. He had said things to my face which might or might not have surprised his neighbour if he had known of them. He was a chip off the old block. I resolved to give him no cost to accuse me of being too much of a lady so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness before me.  The spirit of the mothers was so crushed by the lash that they stood by without courage to remonstrate. How much more must I suffer before I should be broke in to that degree? I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an opportunity to send a few lines home, and this brought up recollections that made it difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my lot. Notwithstanding my efforts I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life. She waited for me with no one to look after her. She wandered about, and in a few days cried herself sick. One day she sat under the window where I was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother's heart bleed. I was obliged to steal myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked out, and she was gone. As it was near noon I ventured to go down in search of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I looked under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and drew her out. As I held her in my arms I thought how well it would be for her if she never waked up, and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled to hear someone say, "'Did you speak to me?' I looked up and saw Mr. Flint standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning away. That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards that in the afternoon he had killed a large snake which crept from under the house, and I supposed that incident had prompted his unusual kindness. The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put Ellen into it and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick and required attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass, for he was aware that I had accomplished much work in a little time. I had been three weeks on the plantation when I planned to visit home. It must be at night after everybody was in bed. I was six miles from town and the road was very dreary. I was to go with a young man, who I knew often stole to town to see his mother. One night when all was quiet we started. Fear gave speed to our steps, and we were not long in performing the journey. I arrived at my grandmother's. Her bedroom was on the first floor and the window was open, the weather being warm. I spoke to her and she awoke. She let me in and closed the window lest some late passerby should see me. A light was brought, and the whole household gathered round me, some smiling and some crying. I went to look at my children and thanked God for their happy sleep. The tears fell as I leaned over them. As I moved to leave, Benny stirred. I turned back and whispered, Mother is here. After digging at his eyes with his little fist, they opened, and he sat up in bed looking at me curiously. Having satisfied himself that it was I, he exclaimed, Oh mother, you ain't dead, are you?  My time was up too soon, and my guide was waiting for me. I laid Benny back in his bed and dried his tears by a promise to come again soon. Suddenly we retraced our steps back to the plantation. About half way we were met by a company of four patrols. Luckily we heard their horses' hooves before they came in sight, and we had time to hide behind a large tree. They passed, hallowing and shouting in a manner that indicated a recent carousel. How thankful we were that they had not their dogs with them. We hastened our footsteps, and when we arrived on the plantation, we heard the sound of the handmill. The slaves were grinding their corn. We were safely in the house before the horn summoned them to their labour. I divided my little parcel of food with my guide, knowing that he had lost the chance of grinding his corn, and must toil all day in the field. Mr. Flint often took an inspection of the house to see that no one was idle. The entire management of the work was trusted to me, because he knew nothing about it. And rather than hire a superintendent, he contented himself with my arrangements. He had often urged upon his father the necessity of having me at the plantation to take charge of his affairs and make clothes for the slaves, but the old man knew him too well to consent to that arrangement. When I had been working a month at the plantation, the great aunt of Mr. Flint came to make him a visit. This was the good old lady who paid fifty dollars for my grandmother for the purpose of making her free when she stood on the auction block. My grandmother loved this old lady, whom we all called Miss Fanny. She often came to take tea with us. On such occasions the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot muffins, tea rusks, and delicious sweet-meats. My grandmother kept two cows, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny's delight. She invariably declared that it was the best in town. The old ladies had cozy times together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bad us good-bye, her bag was filled with grandmother's best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon. There had been a time when Dr. Flint's wife came to take tea with us, and when her children were also sent to have a feast of Aunt Marthy's nice cooking. But after I became an object of her jealousy and spite, she was angry with grandmother for giving a shelter to me and my children. She would not even speak to her in the street. This wounded my grandmother's feelings, for she could not retain ill-will against the woman whom she had nourished with her milk when a babe. The doctor's wife would gladly have prevented our intercourse with Miss Fanny if she could have done it. But fortunately she was not dependent on the bounty of the flints. She had enough to be independent, and that is more than can ever be gained from charity however lavish it may be. Miss Fanny was endeared to me by many recollections, and I was rejoiced to see her at the plantation. The warmth of her large, loyal heart made the house seem pleasanter while she was in it. She stayed a week, and I had many talks with her. She said her principal object in coming was to see how I was treated, and whether anything could be done for me. She inquired whether she could help me in any way. I told her I believed not. She condoled with me in her own peculiar way, saying she wished that I and all my grandmother's family were at rest in our graves, for not until then should she feel any peace about us. The good old soul did not dream that I was planning to bestow peace upon her with regard to myself and my children, not by death, but by securing our freedom. Then and again I had traversed those dreary twelve miles to and from the town, and all the way I was meditating upon some means of escape from myself and my children. My friends had made every effort that ingenuity could devise to affect our purchase, but all their plans had proved abortive. Dr. Flint was suspicious and determined not to loosen his grasp upon us. I could have made my escape alone, but it was more for my helpless children than for myself that I longed for freedom. Though the boon would have been precious to me above all price, I would not have taken it at the expense of leaving them in slavery. Every trial I endured, every sacrifice I made for their sakes drew them closer to my heart, and gave me fresh courage to beat back the dark waves that rolled and rolled over me in a seemingly endless night of storms. The six weeks were nearly completed when Mr. Flint's bride was expected to take possession of her new home. The arrangements were all completed, and Mr. Flint said I had done well. He expected to leave home on Saturday, and return with his bride the following Wednesday. After receiving various orders from him, I ventured to ask permission to spend Sunday in town. It was granted, for which favour I was thankful. It was the first I had ever asked of him, and I intended it should be the last. I needed more than one night to accomplish the project I had in view, but the whole of Sunday would give me an opportunity. I spent the Sabbath with my grandmother. A calmer, more beautiful day never came down out of heaven. To me it was the day of conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was the last day I should ever spend under that dear old sheltering roof. Perhaps these were the last talks I should ever have with the faithful old friend of my whole life. Perhaps it was the last time I and my children should be together. Well, better so, I thought, than that they should be slaves. I knew the doom that awaited my fair baby in slavery, and I determined to save her from it, or perish in the attempt. I went to make this vow at the graves of my poor parents in the burying ground of the slaves. There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest together. They hear not the voices of the oppressor. The servant is free from his master. I knelt by the graves of my parents and thanked God, as I had often done before, that they had not lived to witness my trials or to mourn over my sins. I had received my mother's blessing when she died, and in many an hour of tribulation I had seemed to hear her voice, sometimes chiding me, sometimes whispering loving words into my wounded heart. I have shed many and bitter tears, to think that when I am gone from my children they cannot remember me with such entire satisfaction as I remembered my mother. The graveyard was in the woods, and twilight was coming on. Nothing broke the death-like stillness except the occasional twitter of a bird. My spirit was overawed by the solemnity of the scene. For more than ten years I had frequented this spot, but never had it seemed to me so sacred as now. A black stump at the head of my mother's grave was all that remained of a tree my father had planted. His grave was marked by a small wooden board bearing his name, the letters of which were nearly all obliterated. I knelt down and kissed them, and poured forth a prayer to God for guidance and support in the perilous step I was about to take. As I passed the wreck of the old meeting-house, where, before Nat Turner's time the slaves had been allowed to meet for worship, I seemed to hear my father's voice come from it, bidding me not to tarry till I reached freedom, or the grave. I rushed on with renovated hopes. My trust in God had been strengthened by that prayer among the graves. My plan was to conceal myself at the house of a friend, and remain there a few weeks till the search was over. My hope was that the doctor would get discouraged, and for fear of losing my value, and also of subsequently finding my children among the missing, he would consent to sell us. And I knew somebody would buy us. I had done all in my power to make my children comfortable during the time I expected to be separated from them. I was packing my things when grandmother came into the room, and asked what I was doing. I am putting my things in order, I replied. I tried to look and speak cheerfully, but her watchful eye detected something beneath the surface. She drew me towards her, and asked me to sit down.  Do you mean to leave your little helpless children? I am old now, and cannot do for your babies as I once did for you. I replied that if I went away perhaps their father would be able to secure their freedom. Oh, my child, said she, don't trust too much to him. Stand by your own children and suffer with them till death. Nobody respects a mother who forsakes her children, and if you leave them you will never have a happy moment.  You would be taken and brought back, and your sufferings would be dreadful. Remember, poor Benjamin, do give it up, Linda. Try to bear a little longer. Things may turn out better than we expect. My courage failed me. In view of the sorrow I should bring on that faithful, loving old heart, I promised I would try longer, and that I would take nothing out of her house without her knowledge.  She doesn't love you as I do. And she would hug them to her own bosom as if to reproach me for my want of affection, but she knew all the while that I loved them better than my life. I slept with her that night, and it was the last time. The memory of it haunted me for many a year. On Monday I returned to the plantation and busied myself with preparations for the important day. Wednesday came. It was a beautiful day, and the faces of the slaves were as bright as the sunshine. The poor creatures were merry. They were expecting little presence from the bride and hoping for better times under her administration. I had no such hopes for them. I knew that the young wives of slaveholders often thought their authority and importance would be best established and maintained by cruelty. And what I had heard of young Mrs. Flint gave me no reason to expect that her rule over them would be less severe than that of the master and overseer.  I stood at the door with others to receive the bridegroom and bride. She was a handsome, delicate-looking girl, and her face flushed with emotion outside of her new home. I thought it likely that visions of a happy future were rising before her. It made me sad, for I knew how soon clouds would come over her sunshine. She examined every part of the house and told me she was delighted with the arrangements I had made. I was afraid old Mrs. Flint had tried to prejudice her against me, and I did my best to please her. All passed off smoothly for me until dinner-time arrived. I did not mind the embarrassment of waiting on a dinner-party for the first time in my life, half so much as I did the meeting with Dr. Flint and his wife, who would be among the guests. It was a mystery to me why Mrs. Flint had not made her appearance at the plantation during all the time I was putting the house in order. I had not met her face-to-face for five years, and I had no wish to see her now. She was a praying woman, and doubtless considered my present position a special answer to her prayers. Nothing could please her better than to see me humbled and trampled upon. I was just where she would have me, in the power of a hard, unprincipled master. She did not speak to me when she took her seat at table, but her satisfied triumphant smile when I handed her plate was more eloquent than words. The old doctor was not so quiet in his demonstrations. He ordered me here and there, and spoke with peculiar emphasis when he said, You're Mistress. I was drilled like a disgraced soldier. When all was over and the last key turned, I sought my pillow. Thankful that God had appointed a season of rest for the weary. The next day my new mistress began her housekeeping. I was not exactly appointed maid of all work, but I was to do whatever I was told. Monday evening came. It was always a busy time. On that night the slaves received their weekly allowance of food. Three pounds of meat, a peck of corn, and perhaps a dozen herring were allowed to each man. Women received a pound and a half of meat, a peck of corn, and the same number of herring. Children over twelve years old had half the allowance of the women. The meat was cut and weighed by the foreman of the field hands, and piled on planks before the meat-house. Then the second foreman went behind the building, and when the first foreman called out, Who takes this piece of meat? he answered by calling somebody's name. This method was resorted to as a means of preventing partiality in distributing the meat. The young mistress came out to see how things were done in her plantation, and she soon gave a specimen of her character. One of those in waiting for their allowance was a very old slave, who had faithfully served the Flint family through three generations. When he hobbled up to get his bit of meat, the mistress said he was too old to have any allowance.  Poor old man! He suffered much before he found rest in the grave. My mistress and I got along very well together. At the end of a week Old Mrs. Flint made us another visit, and was closeted a long time with her daughter-in-law. I had my suspicion what was the subject of the conference. The old doctor's wife had been informed that I could leave the plantation on one condition, and she was very desirous to keep me there. If she had trusted me, as I deserved to be trusted by her, she would have had no fears of my accepting that condition. When she entered her carriage to return home, she said to young Mrs. Flint, Don't neglect to send for them as quick as possible. My heart was on the watch all the time, and I at once concluded that she spoke of my children. The doctor came the next day, and as I entered the room to spread the tea-table I heard him say, Don't wait any longer, send for them to-morrow. I saw through the plan. They thought my children's being there would fetter me to the spot, and that it was a good place to break us all in to abject submission to our lot as slaves. After the doctor left, a gentleman called, who had always manifested friendly feelings towards my grandmother and her family. Mr. Flint carried him over the plantation to show him the results of labour, performed by men and women who were unpaid, miserably clothed, and half-famished. The cotton crop was all they thought of. It was duly admired, and the gentleman returned with specimens to show his friend. I was ordered to carry water to wash his hands. As I did so, he said, Linda, how do you like your new home? I told him I liked it as well as I expected. He replied, They don't think you are contented, and to-morrow they are going to bring your children to be with you. I am sorry for you, Linda. I hope they will treat you kindly. I hurried from the room unable to thank him. My suspicions were correct. My children were to be brought to the plantation to be broken. To this day I feel grateful to the gentleman who gave me this timely information. It nerved me to immediate action. CHAPTER XII. Led by Elizabeth Clutt, Houston, Texas, May 2008. Incidents in the life of a slave girl, written by herself, by Harriet Jacobs, written under the pseudonym Linda Brent. CHAPTER XVII. THE FLIGHT. Mr. Flint was hard-pushed for house servants, and rather than lose me he had restrained his malice. I did my work faithfully, though not, of course, with a willing mind. They were evidently afraid I should leave them. Mr. Flint wished that I should sleep in the great house instead of the servants' quarters. His wife agreed to the proposition, but said I mustn't bring my bed into the house, because it would scatter feathers on her carpet. I knew when I went there that they would never think of such a thing as furnishing a bed of any kind for me and my little ones. I therefore carried my own bed, and now I was forbidden to use it. I did as I was ordered. But now that I was certain my children were to be put in their power, in order to give them a stronger hold on me, I resolved to leave them that night. I remembered the grief this step would bring upon my dear old grandmother, and nothing less than the freedom of my children would have induced me to disregard her advice. I went about my evening work with trembling steps. Mr. Flint twice called from his chamber door to inquire why the house was not locked up. I replied that I had not done my work. You have had enough time to do it, said he, take care how you answer me. I shut all the windows, locked all the doors, and went up to the third story to wait till midnight. How long those hours seemed, and how fervently I prayed that God would not forsake me in this hour of utmost need. I was about to risk everything on the throw of a die, and if I failed, oh what would become of me and my poor children, they would be made to suffer for my fault. At half-past twelve I stole softly down the stairs. I stopped on the second floor thinking I heard a noise. I felt my way down into the parlor and looked out of the window. The night was so intensely dark that I could see nothing. I raised the window very softly and jumped out. Large drops of rain were falling, and the darkness bewildered me.  I groped my way to the road and rushed towards the town with almost lightning speed. I arrived at my grandmother's house, but dared not see her. She would say, Linda, you are killing me, and I knew that would unnerve me. I tapped softly at the window of a room occupied by a woman who had lived in the house several years. I knew she was a faithful friend and could be trusted with my secret. I tapped several times before she heard me. At last she raised the window and I whispered, Sally, I have run away, let me in quickly. She opened the door softly and said in low tones, For God's sake, don't! Your grandmother is trying to buy you and the children. Mr. Sands was here last week. He told her he was going away on business, but he wanted her to go ahead about buying you and the children, and he would help her all he could. Don't run away, Linda. Your grandmother is all bound down with trouble now. I replied, Sally, they are going to carry my children to the plantation to-morrow, and they will never sell them to anybody so long as they have me and their power. Now would you advise me to go back? No, child, no. I asked her to go into my room as soon as it was light and take all my clothes out of my trunk and pack them in hers, for I knew Mr. Flint and the constable would be there early to search my room. I feared the sight of the children would be too much for my full heart, but I could not go into the uncertain future without one last look. I bent over the bed where lay my little Benny and baby Ellen—poor little ones, fatherless and motherless—memories of their father came over me. He wanted to be kind to them, but they were not all to him as they were to my womanly heart. I knelt and prayed for the innocent little sleepers. I kissed them lightly and turned away. As I was about to open the street door, Sally laid her hand on my shoulder and said, "'Linda, is you going all alone? Let me call your uncle.' "'No, Sally,' I replied. I want no one to be brought into trouble on my account. I went forth into the darkness and rain. I ran on till I came to the house of the friend who was to conceal me. Early the next morning Mr. Flint was at my grandmother's inquiring for me. She told him she had not seen me, and supposed I was at the plantation. He watched her face narrowly and said, "'Don't you know anything about her running off?' She assured him that she did not. He went on to say, "'Last night she ran off without the least provocation. We had treated her very kindly. My wife liked her.  Are her children with you?' When told that they were, he said, "'I'm very glad to hear that. If they are here, she cannot be far off.  As he started to go to his father's, he turned round and added persuasively, "'Let her be brought back, and she shall have her children to live with her.'" The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It was a busy day for them. My grandmother's house was searched from top to bottom. As my trunk was empty they concluded I had taken my clothes with me. Before ten o'clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly examined, and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on board. At night a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed my grandmother would be, I wanted to send her a message, but it could not be done. Every one who went in and out of her house was closely watched. The doctor said he would take my children unless she became responsible for them, which of course she willingly did. The next day was spent in searching. Before night the following advertisement was posted at every corner, and in every public place for miles around. Three hundred dollars reward. Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright mulatto girl named Linda, twenty-one years of age. Five feet four inches high, dark eyes and black hair inclined to curl, but it can be made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability will try to get to the free states. All persons are forbidden under penalty of law to harbor or employ said slave. A hundred and fifty dollars will be given to whoever takes her in the state, and three hundred dollars have taken out of the state and delivered to me, or lodged in jail. Dr. Flint. End of chapter seventeen.