The Bondwoman’s Narrative Quotes

It may be that I assume to[o] much responsibility in attempting to write these pages. The world will probably say so, and I am aware of my deficiencies. I am neither clever, nor learned, nor talented. When a child they used to scold and find fault with me because they said I was dull and stupid. Perhaps under other circumstances and with more encouragement I might have appeared better; for I was shy and reserved and scarce dared open my lips to anyone I had none of that quickness and animation which are so much admired in children, but rather a silent unobtrusive way of observing things and events, and wishing to understand them better than I could.

At such times, however, I tried to remember the good things they had taught me, and to improve myself by gathering up such crumbs of knowledge as I could, and adding little by little to my stock of information. Of course my opportunities were limited, and I had much to make me miserable and discontented. The life of a slave at best is not a pleasant one, but I had formed a resolution to always look on the bright side of things, to be industrious, cheerful, and true-hearted, to do some good though in a humble way, and to win some love if I could. “I am a slave” thus my thoughts would run. “I can never be great, nor rich; I cannot hold an elevated position in society, but I can do my duty, and be kind in the sure and certain hope of an eternal reward.[”]

Hitherto I had not contemplated my Master’s picture; for all my thoughts had been with the dead, but now I looked for it, where it hung solitary, and thought how soon it would have a companion like the others, and what a new aspect would thereby be given to the apartment. But was it prophecy, or presentiment, or why was it that this idea was attended to my mind with something painful? That it seemed the first scene in some fearful tragedy; the foreboding of some great calamity; a curse of destiny that no circumstances could avert or soften. And why was it that as I mused the portrait of my master […] seemed to change from its usually kind and placid expression to one of wrath and gloom, that the calm brow should become wrinkled with passion, the lips turgid with malevolence—yet thus it was.

Though filled with superstitious awe I was in no haste to leave the room; for there surrounded by mysterious associations I seemed suddenly to have grown old, to have entered a new world of thoughts, and feelings and sentiments. I was not a slave with these pictured memorials of the past. They could not enforce drudgery, or condemn me on account of my color to a life of servitude. As their companion I could think and speculate. In their presence my mind seemed to run riotous and exult in its freedom as a rational being, and one destined for something higher and better than this world can afford.

It was enough, they said, to have melted a heart of stone to hear her talk to that affectionate and equally tortured favorite so long as she retained the power of speech, as if she sought by such demonstrations of tenderness to soothe her own misery, and mitigate his sufferings. How she seemed to consider him a being who could know; and think and reason, and as such assured him of her undying love and regard, entreated him to be patient, and to bear with fortitude whatever the wickedness of man imposed, and strove to solace him with the certainty that a few more hours would finish all their woes, and safely confide them to the place where the weary rest.

Slaves are proverbially curious and while she surveyed with haughty eyes the furniture and dimensions of the room or opened and shut bureau-drawers, or plunged into caskets and jewel-cases, I was studying her, and making out a mental inventory of her foibles, and weaknesses, and caprices and whether or not she was likely to prove an indulgent mistress. I did not see, but I felt that there was mystery something indefinable about her. She was a small brown woman with a profusion of wavy curly hair, large bright eyes, and delicate features with the exception of her lips which were too large, full, and red. She dressed in very good taste and her manner seemed perfect but for an uncomfortable habit she had of seeming to watch everybody as though she feared them or thought them enemies.

Lizzy was much better educated than I was, and had been to many places that I had never even heard tell of […]She was a Quadroon, almost white, with delicate hands and feet, and a person that any lady in the land might have been proud of. She came, she said of a good family […] and when I smiled and said it mattered little she would assume an air of consequential dignity, and assert that on the contrary it was a very great thing and very important even to a slave to be well connected—that good blood was an inheritance to them—and that when they heard the name of some honorable gentleman mentioned with applause, or saw some great lady flaunt by in jewels and satins the priveledge of thinking he or she is a near relative of mine was a very great privelage indeed.

One day contrary to his usual custom he requested the pleasure of seeing me in his room. Trembling with apprehension I ascended the staircase, passed through the hall, and stood before him. He was seated at a low table, upon which lay a great pile of books and papers that he seemed particularly interested in examining—so much indeed as […] not to notice my presence. This gave me an opportunity to look around his apartment. Its chief furniture was books and piles of papers. There were books on the floor, books in the corners, and books heaped up and piled up in an antique cupboard. Some of them seemed to have been recently used, but on others the dust had thickly accumulated. I touched one of them; it fell with a rattling sound, still he did not look round, and I began to construe his silence into studied neglect.

[“]You must fly from this house, from this place, from this country, fly immediately—to[-]night—or stay. I have a better plan. My master as yet knows nothing of it. Mr Trappe is gone you can go away in open daylight and in your carriage giving out that you design to visit a relative.[”]

My mistress was delighted with the plan. Her first thought was to escape from the horrible doom impending over her, and she eagerly grasped the least shadow of hope. She thanked me, she kissed me, and for the first time she wept over me.

[“]And you will go with me? [”] she inquired.

“I will, my dear mistress.”

[“]Call me mistress no longer. Henceforth you shall be to me as a very dear sister” she said embracing me again. “Oh: to be free, to be free.”

We lingered in the woods till nearly noon uncertain what course to pursue. To our confused intellects even the sun appeared to occupy a wrong position in the heavens. Oh: the horror the bewilderment of being lost. After a time, however, I felt a new confidence springing up within me. I felt that we had one friend and protector and that One was the greatest and the best. We could not be utterly forsaken, and hopeless and helpless when God was near. We had committed no crime and what had we to fear? We had not the appearance of fugitives from slavery. No one there could recognise who and what we were. We could easily reach the house I had discovered, where perhaps we could ascertain all we desired to know.

There was a charm about this house and its appointment. It was very plainly, yet neatly furnished and through it breathed and moved an atmosphere of love. It was the sanctuary of sweet home influences, a holy and blessed spot, so light and warm and with such an abiding air of comfort that we felt […] how pure and elevated must be the character of its inmates.

She was one of those old-fashioned women it does one’s heart good to behold. […] Her brown hair, […] slightly silvered by time was smoothly parted, and put back beneath a plain cap of snowy whiteness. […] Her dress was perfectly in taste, being neither too light nor too dark, too gay nor too sombre, and her apron of black silk pleasantly rustled as she moved about genially like the breeze of summer and beneficently as the sunshine.

At finding ourselves, […] and without having committed any crime, thus introduced into one of the legal fortresses of a country celebrated throughout the world for the freedom, equality, and magnanimity of its laws, I could not help reflecting on the strange ideas of right and justice that seemed to have usurped a place in public opinion, since the mere accidents of birth, and what persons were the least capable of changing or modifying was made a reason for punishing and imprisoning them.

“I used to hate slavery” she continued “born in a slave state, educated in a slave state, with slavery all the time before my eyes I could see no beauties in the system. Yet they said I was beautiful, and many thought me a fool for not seeing it so […”]

"Have you ever seen it so?” I inquired.

[…]

[“]Oh you must not ask me such questions, indeed you must not. It might involve us in a great deal of trouble. I have learned what all who live in a land of slaver[y] must learn sooner or later; that is to profess approbation where you cannot feel it; to be hard when most inclined to melt; and to say that all is right, and good; and true when you know that nothing could be more wrong and unjust.[”]

“A man perfectly free would be an anomaly, and a free woman yet more so. Freedom and slavery are only names attached surreptitiously and often improperly to certain conditions […] They are mere shadows the very reverse of realities, and being so, if rightly considered, they have only a trifling effect on individual happiness.”

He said this composedly as if she were a mere machine that he was discussing and analysing.

[…]

“You will blame me, no doubt” he continued “you will curse me you will regard me as an enemy, as one who embittered your existence, and dashed the cup of pleasure from your lips, yet in doing so you will be unjust. Rather blame the world that has made me what I am, like yourself […] the victim of circumstances. It was not my fault but rather the result of accident that made me acquainted with your lineage.”

“In those awful moments he exacted from me a solemn promise never on any occasion to buy or sell a servant, as then with the realities of a judgement and eternity before him it appeared the greatest crime, he said, of which a human being could be capable […]”

“And you promised?”

“I promised […] And now, dear Hannah, do you wish me to break that vow?” she asked.

I could not say that I did, and yet my heart rose against that man, who in a slave-holding country could exact such a promise. Since in a multitude of cases the greatest favor that a mild kind-hearted man or woman can bestow on […] members of the outcast servile race is to buy them. I almost felt that he had done me a personal injury, an irreparable wrong.

I answered plainly that however just, or right, or expedient it might be to them to escape my accompanying their flight would be directly the reverse, that I could not lightly sacrifise the good opinion of Mrs Henry and her family, who had been so very kind to me, nor seem to participate in a scheme, of which the consummation must be an injury to them no less than a source of disquiet and anxiety. Duty, gratitude and honor forbid it.

“And so to a strained sense of honor you willingly sacrifise a prospect of freedom” said William. “Well, you can hug the chain if you please. With me it is liberty or death.”

[Mrs] Wheeler requested me to read for her. I had not gone over two pages, when she called for pillows, which were to be disposed about her person to facilitate slumber; then she inquired if I was musical, adding that Jane used to soothe her to sleep with the guitar. I had played a little on the harp, and so I told her. She bade me get it, and play softly, very softly on account of her nerves. […] My music, however did not suit her. […]

I was sorry at my inability to please her, and apologised of course in the best language I was able to command.

It was singular, indeed, but there was something imperative in her manner. Her requests, though made in the softest voice, implied command. You were not forced, but awed to obedience.

Days passed away and still I was the attendant of Mrs Wheeler, though it is impossible to say how irksome the duty had become. […] She reminded me exactly of a spoiled child that never cares for what it has, but is always wanting something new. She would call for a pomegranite, just taste, and then order it away, and ask for a nutmeg or citron. […] It seemed never to occur to her that a person could be ill or weary, though all the time complaining of feebleness herself. Sometimes in the dead hours of night she would call me out of bed to get her some kind of candy or confectionary. Then she would call for water to take away the saccharine taste; and then again for more candy.

Mrs Wheeler’s notoriety extended to her husband, and even me. His affairs were sagely discussed in financial circles. Spectators talked of stocks, and bonds and martgages Even the price of his last year’s cotton crop, the value of this estate in North Carolina, and the number of his slaves was retailed by bar-tenders and post-boys with great satisfaction. Some went so far as to think that political capital might be made of it, and even the nomination of the next President influenced thereby.

Finding themselves the subjects of such unwelcome notoriety they concluded to forsake the capital and remove to their estate. The splendid mansion they occupied having been taken only temporarily could be abandoned at any time. Suddenly and without any previous intimation a certain circle was astounded with the intelligence that the Wheeler’s had gone.

Did it not occur to her that night when laying down on […] her splendid bed with snowy counterpanes and downy pillows that the poor freed slave with her tender infants had not [sic] where to lay her head? Did she think waking up the next morning […] and preparing to breakfast daintily on soft rich cakes and golden butter, with luscious honey, strawberries melting in cream and the richest beverage that the one she had so unfeelingly dismissed had not a morsel wherewith to satisfy the cravings of nature, or support her strength under the most onerous maternal duty—that of providing nourishment for her offspring. […] Far from it, she only thought, as she expressed it, that “the coast was clear” and exulted over the idea of her husband’s surprise and indignation when he ascertained the fact.

Mrs Cosgrove was no longer the haughty self-conceited woman, but a gentle, humble lamb-like follower of Christ. This change was not wrought suddenly. It came only after nights and days of tearless mental agony, after deep humiliation of spirit, and bitter supplications. Then gradually and beautifully and calmly as the moon breaking over stormy seas came the light of hope to her mind. It was accompanied by peace and love and gentle […] child-like trust, and though lame and weary and fast losing her hold of time she became happier than ever she had been in the days of her pride, and beauty, and prosperity.

Of course the family residence was stocked with slaves of a higher and nobler order than those belonging to the fields. They were better dressed, better provided for and better looking. It was necessary that those surrounding the person of the Mistress should have nothing offensive or disgusting about them. It was necessary, not for him but her, that the coachmen should be cleanly and well kept, that the cook should be neat, with well washed hands and a snowy apron, and that all her attendants should well understand their part and preserve appearances. Yet I thought they exhibited little pleasure on the return of their master and mistress. [… There] was no hardy demonstrations of delight, but merely a cold formal welcome scarcely removed from positive indifference or something worse.

It must be a strange state to feel that in the judgement of those above you you are scarcely human, and to fear that their opinion is more than half right, that you really are assimilated to the brutes, that the horses, dogs and cattle have quite as many priviledges, and are probably your equals or it may be your superiors in knowledge, that even your shape is questionable as belonging to that order of superior beings whose delicacy you offend.

It must be strange to live in a world of civilisation and, elegance, and refinement, and yet know nothing about either, yet that is the way with multitudes and with none more than the slaves. The Constitution asserts that the right of freedom and equality to all mankind is a sealed book to them, and so is the Bible, that tells how Christ died for all; the bond as well as the free.

Marriage like many other blessings I considered to be especially designed for the free, and something that all the victims of slavery should avoid as tending essentially to perpetuate that system. Hence to all overtures of that kind from whatever quarter they might come I had invariably turned a deaf ear. I had spurned domestic ties not because my heart was hard, but because it was my unalterable resolution never to entail slavery on any human being. And now when I had voluntarily renounced the society of those I might have learned to love should I be compelled to accept one, whose person, and speech, and manner could not fail to be ever regarded by me with loathing and disgust.

It was reeking with filth and impurity of every kind, and already occupied by near a dozen women and children, who were sitting on the ground, or coiled on piles of rags and straw in the corner. They regarded me curiously as I entered, grinned with malicious satisfaction that I had been brought down to their level, and made remarks at my expense; while the children kicked, and yelled, and clawed each other, scratching each other’s faces, and pulling each other’s hair I stumbled to a bench I supposed was designed for a seat, when one of the woman [sic] arose, seized me by the hair, and without ceremony dragged me to the ground, gave me a furious kick and made use of highly improper and indecent language.

[“]I have heard them, when they called it praying, and when it seemed to me they were talking to themselves, or master, or some one else. Ministers used to come among us and pray, but I never minded them. They mostly prayed that we the slaves might be good and obedient, and feel grateful for all our blessings, which I know was fudge. It hardened my heart, and I could not bear it.”

She says this slowly and studiously, and occupies a long time in doing it. How I pitied the poor benighted soul to whom the sweetest influences of religion had become gall and wormwood.