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VI. THE JEALOUS MISTRESS. Mrs. Flint
possessed the key to her husband's character before I was born. She might have
used this knowledge to counsel and to screen the young and the innocent among
her slaves; but for them she had no sympathy. They were the objects of her
constant suspicion and malevolence. She watched her husband with unceasing
vigilance; but he was well practiced in means to evade it. What he could not
find opportunity to say in words he manifested in signs. He invented more than
were ever thought of in a deaf and dumb asylum. I let them pass, as if I did
not understand what he meant; and many were the curses and threats bestowed on
me for my stupidity. One day he caught me teaching myself to write. He frowned,
as if he was not well pleased, but I suppose he came to the conclusion that
such an accomplishment might help to advance his favorite scheme. Before long,
notes were often slipped into my hand. I would return them, saying, "I
can't read them, sir." "Can't you?" he replied; "then I must
read them to you." He always finished the reading by asking, "Do you
understand?" Sometimes he would complain of the heat of the tea room, and
order his supper to be placed on a small table in the piazza. He would seat
himself there with a well-satisfied smile, and tell me to stand by and brush
away the flies. He would eat very slowly, pausing between the mouthfuls. These
intervals were employed in describing the happiness I was so foolishly throwing
away, and in threatening me with the penalty that finally awaited my stubborn
disobedience. He boasted much of the forbearance he had exercised towards me,
and reminded me that there was a limit to his patience. When I succeeded in
avoiding opportunities for him to talk to me at home, I was ordered to come to
his office, to do some errand. When there, I was obliged to stand and listen to
such language as he saw fit to address to me. Sometimes I so openly expressed
my contempt for him that he would become violently enraged, and I wondered why
he did not strike me. Circumstanced as he was, he probably thought it was
better policy to be forbearing. But the state of things grew worse and worse
daily. In desperation I told him that I must and would apply to my grandmother
for protection. He threatened me with death, and worse than death, if I made
any complaint to her. Strange to say, I did not despair. I was naturally of a
buoyant disposition, and always I had hope of somehow getting out of his
clutches. Like many a poor, simple slave before me, I trusted that some threads
of joy would yet be woven into my dark destiny. I had entered my
sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent that my presence was
intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently passed between her and her
husband. He had never punished me himself, and he would not allow any body else
to punish me. In that respect, she was never satisfied; but, in her angry
moods, no terms were too vile for her to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she
detested so bitterly, had far more pity for her than he had, whose duty it was
to make her life happy. I never wronged her, or wished to wrong her; and one
word of kindness from her would have brought me to her feet. After repeated
quarrels between the doctor and his wife, he announced his intention to take
his youngest daughter, then four years old, to sleep in his apartment. It was
necessary that a servant should sleep in the same room, to be on hand if the
child stirred. I was selected for that office, and informed for what purpose
that arrangement had been made. By managing to keep within sight of people, as
much as possible during the day time, I had hitherto succeeded in eluding my
master, though a razor was often held to my throat to force me to change this
line of policy. At night I slept by the side of my great aunt, where I felt
safe. He was too prudent to come into her room. She was an old woman, and had
been in the family many years. Moreover, as a married man, and a professional
man, he deemed it necessary to save appearances in some degree. But he resolved
to remove the obstacle in the way of his scheme; and he thought he had planned
it so that he should evade suspicion. He was well aware how much I prized my
refuge by the side of my old aunt, and he determined to dispossess me of it.
The first night the doctor had the little child in his room alone. The next
morning, I was ordered to take my station as nurse the following night. A kind
Providence interposed in my favor. During the day Mrs. Flint heard of this new
arrangement, and a storm followed. I rejoiced to hear it rage. After a while my
mistress sent for me to come to her room. Her first question was, "Did you
know you were to sleep in the doctor's room?" "Yes,
ma'am." "Who told
you?" "My
master." "Will you
answer truly all the questions I ask?" "Yes,
ma'am." "Tell me,
then, as you hope to be forgiven, are you innocent of what I have accused
you?" "I
am." She handed me a
Bible, and said, "Lay your hand on your heart, kiss this holy book, and
swear before God that you tell me the truth." I took the oath
she required, and I did it with a clear conscience. "You have
taken God's holy word to testify your innocence," said she. "If you
have deceived me, beware! Now take this stool, sit down, look me directly in
the face, and tell me all that has passed between your master and you." I did as she
ordered. As I went on with my account her color changed frequently, she wept,
and sometimes groaned. She spoke in tones so sad, that I was touched by her
grief. The tears came to my eyes; but I was soon convinced that her emotions
arose from anger and wounded pride. She felt that her marriage vows were
desecrated, her dignity insulted, but she had no compassion for the poor victim
of her husband's perfidy. She pitied herself as a martyr; but she was incapable
of feeling for the condition of shame and misery in which her unfortunate,
helpless slave was placed. Yet perhaps she
had some touch of feeling for me; for when the conference was ended, she spoke
kindly, and promised to protect me. I should have been much comforted by this
assurance if I could have had confidence in it; but my experiences in slavery
had filled me with distrust. She was not a very refined woman, and had not much
control over her passions. I was an object of her jealousy, and, consequently,
of her hatred; and I knew I could not expect kindness or confidence from her
under the circumstances in which I was placed. I could not blame her.
Slave-holders' wives feel as other women would under similar circumstances. The
fire of her temper kindled from small sparks, and now the flame became so
intense that the doctor was obliged to give up his intended arrangement. I knew I had
ignited the torch, and I expected to suffer for it afterwards; but I felt too
thankful to my mistress for the timely aid she rendered me to care much about
that. She now took me to sleep in a room adjoining her own. There I was an
object of her especial care, though not of her especial comfort, for she spent
many a sleepless night to watch over me. Sometimes I woke up, and found her
bending over me. At other times she whispered in my ear, as though it was her
husband who was speaking to me, and listened to hear what I would answer. If
she startled me, on such occasions, she would glide stealthily away; and the
next morning she would tell me I had been talking in my sleep, and ask who I
was talking to. At last, I began to be fearful for my life. It had been often
threatened; and you can imagine, better than I can describe, what an unpleasant
sensation it must produce to wake up in the dead of night and find a jealous
woman bending over you. Terrible as this experience was, I had fears that it would
give place to one more terrible. My mistress grew
weary of her vigils; they did not prove satisfactory. She changed her tactics.
She now tried the trick of accusing my master of crime, in my presence, and
gave my name as the author of the accusation. To my utter astonishment, he
replied, "I don't believe it; but if she did acknowledge it, you tortured
her into exposing me." Tortured into exposing him! Truly, Satan had no
difficulty in distinguishing the color of his soul! I understood his object in
making this false representation. It was to show me that I gained nothing by
seeking the protection of my mistress; that the power was still all in his own
hands. I pitied Mrs. Flint. She was a second wife, many years the junior of her
husband; and the hoary-headed miscreant was enough to try the patience of a
wiser and better woman. She was completely foiled, and knew not how to proceed.
She would gladly have had me flogged for my supposed false oath; but, as I have
already stated, the doctor never allowed any one to whip me. The old sinner was
politic. The application of the lash might have led to remarks that would have
exposed him in the eyes of his children and grandchildren. How often did I
rejoice that I lived in a town where all the inhabitants knew each other! If I
had been on a remote plantation, or lost among the multitude of a crowded city,
I should not be a living woman at this day. The secrets of
slavery are concealed like those of the Inquisition. My master was, to my
knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But did the mothers dare to tell who
was the father of their children? Did the other slaves dare to allude to it,
except in whispers among themselves? No, indeed! They knew too well the
terrible consequences. My grandmother
could not avoid seeing things which excited her suspicions. She was uneasy
about me, and tried various ways to buy me; but the never-changing answer was
always repeated: "Linda does not belong to me. She is my daughter's
property, and I have no legal right to sell her." The conscientious man!
He was too scrupulous to sell me; but he had no scruples whatever about
committing a much greater wrong against the helpless young girl placed under
his guardianship, as his daughter's property. Sometimes my persecutor would ask
me whether I would like to be sold. I told him I would rather be sold to any
body than to lead such a life as I did. On such occasions he would assume the
air of a very injured individual, and reproach me for my ingratitude. "Did
I not take you into the house, and make you the companion of my own
children?" he would say. "Have I ever treated you like a negro? I
have never allowed you to be punished, not even to please your mistress. And
this is the recompense I get, you ungrateful girl!" I answered that he had
reasons of his own for screening me from punishment, and that the course he
pursued made my mistress hate me and persecute me. If I wept, he would say,
"Poor child! Don't cry! don't cry! I will make peace for you with your
mistress. Only let me arrange matters in my own way. Poor, foolish girl! you
don't know what is for your own good. I would cherish you. I would make a lady
of you. Now go, and think of all I have promised you." I did think of
it. Reader, I draw
no imaginary pictures of southern homes. I am telling you the plain truth. Yet
when victims make their escape from this wild beast of Slavery, northerners
consent to act the part of bloodhounds, and hunt the poor fugitive back into
his den, "full of dead men's bones, and all uncleanness." Nay, more,
they are not only willing, but proud, to give their daughters in marriage to
slaveholders. The poor girls have romantic notions of a sunny clime, and of the
flowering vines that all the year round shade a happy home. To what
disappointments are they destined! The young wife soon learns that the husband
in whose hands she has placed her happiness pays no regard to his marriage
vows. Children of every shade of complexion play with her own fair babies, and
too well she knows that they are born unto him of his own household. Jealousy
and hatred enter the flowery home, and it is ravaged of its loveliness. Southern women
often marry a man knowing that he is the father of many little slaves. They do
not trouble themselves about it. They regard such children as property, as
marketable as the pigs on the plantation; and it is seldom that they do not
make them aware of this by passing them into the slave-trader's hands as soon
as possible, and thus getting them out of their sight. I am glad to say there
are some honorable exceptions. I have myself
known two southern wives who exhorted their husbands to free those slaves
towards whom they stood in a "parental relation;" and their request
was granted. These husbands blushed before the superior nobleness of their
wives' natures. Though they had only counselled them to do that which it was
their duty to do, it commanded their respect, and rendered their conduct more
exemplary. Concealment was at an end, and confidence took the place of
distrust. Though this bad institution deadens the moral sense, even in white women, to a fearful extent, it is not altogether extinct. I have heard southern ladies say of Mr. Such a one, "He not only thinks it no disgrace to be the father of those little niggers, but he is not ashamed to call himself their master. I declare, such things ought not to be tolerated in any decent society!" |