Our Nig

by Harriet E. Wilson

  A few expressive wishes for her welfare ; a hope of better days for her ; an anxiety lest they should not all go to the “ good place; ” brief advice about their children ; a hope expressed that Mag would not be neglected as she used to be ; the manifestation of Christian patience ; these were all the legacy of miserable Mag. A feeling of cold desolation came over her, as she turned from the grave of one who had been truly faithful to her.

  She was now expelled from companionship with white people ; this last step — her union with a black — was the climax of repulsion.

  Seth Shipley, a partner in Jim’s business, wished her to remain in her present home ; but she declined, and returned to her hovel again, with obstacles threefold more iusurmountable than before. Seth accompanied her, giving her a weekly allowance which furnished most of the food necessary for the four inmates. After a time, work failed ; their means were reduced.

  How Mag toiled and suffered, yielding to fits of desperation, bursts of anger, and uttering curses too fearful to repeat. When both were supplied with work, they prospered ; if idle, they were hungry together. In this way their interests became united ; they planned for the future together. Mag had lived an outcast for years. She had ceased to feel the gushings of penitence ; she had crushed the sharp agonies of an awakened conscience. She had no longings for a purer heart, a better life. Far easier to descend lower. She entered the darkness of perpetual infamy. She asked not the rite of civilization or Christianity. Her will made her the wife of Seth. Soon followed scenes familiar and trying.

  “ It ’s no use, ” said Seth one day ; “ we must give the children away, and try to get work in some other place. ”

  “ Who ’ll take the black devils ? ” snarled Mag.

  “ They ’re none of mine, ” said Seth ; “ what you growling about ? ”

  “ Nobody will want any thing of mine, or yours either, ” she replied.

  “ We ’ll make ’em, p’r’aps, ” he said. “ There ’s Frado ’s six years old, and pretty, if she is yours, and white folks ’ll say so. She ’d be a prize somewhere, ” he continued, tipping his chair back against the wall, and placing his feet upon the rounds, as if he had much more to say when in the right position.

  Frado, as they called one of Mag’s children, was a beautiful mulatto, with long, curly black hair, and handsome, roguish eyes, sparkling with an exuberance of spirit almost beyond restraint.

  Hearing her name mentioned, she looked up from her play, to see what Seth had to say of her.

  “ Would n’t the Bellmonts take her ? ” asked Seth.

  “ Bellmonts ? ” shouted Mag. “ His wife is a right she-devil ! and if— ”

  “ Had n’t they better be all together ? ” interrupted Seth, reminding her of a like epithet used in reference to her little ones.

  Without seeming to notice him, she continued, “ She can’t keep a girl in the house over a week ; and Mr. Bellmont wants to hire a boy to work for him, but he can’t find one that will live in the house with her ; she ’s so ugly, they can’t. ”

  “ Well, we ’ve got to make a move soon, ” answered Seth ; “ if you go with me, we shall go right off. Had you rather spare the other one ? ” asked Seth, after a short pause.

  “ One ’s as bad as t’ other, ” replied Mag. “ Frado is such a wild, frolicky thing, and means to do jest as she ’s a mind to ; she wo n’t go if she do n’t want to. I do n’t want to tell her she is to be given away. ”

  “ I will, ” said Seth. “ Come here, Frado ? ”

  The child seemed to have some dim foreshadowing of evil, and declined.

  “ Come here, ” he continued ; “ I want to tell you something. ”

  She came reluctantly. He took her hand and said: “ We ’re going to move, by-’m-bye ; will you go ? ”

  “ No ! ” screamed she ; and giving a sudden jerk which destroyed Seth’s equilibrium, left him sprawling on the floor, while she escaped through the open door.

  “ She ’s a hard one, ” said Seth, brushing his patched coat sleeve. “ I ’d risk her at Bellmont’s. ”

  They discussed the expediency of a speedy departure. Seth would first seek employment, and then return for Mag. They would take with them what they could carry, and leave the rest with Pete Greene, and come for them when they were wanted. They were long in arranging affairs satisfactorily, and were not a little startled at the close of their conference to find Frado missing. They thought approaching night would bring her. Twilight passed into darkness, and she did not come. They thought she had understood their plans, and had, perhaps, permanently withdrawn. They could not rest without making some effort to ascertain her retreat. Seth went in pursuit, and returned without her. They rallied others when they discovered that another little colored girl was missing, a favorite playmate of Frado’s. All effort proved unavailing. Mag felt sure her fears were realized, and that she might never see her again. Before her anxieties became realities, both were safely returned, and from them and their attendant they learned that they went to walk, and not minding the direction soon found themselves lost. They had climbed fences and walls, passed through thickets and marshes, and when night approached selected a thick cluster of shrubbery as a covert for the night. They were discovered by the person who now restored them, chatting of their prospects, Frado attempting to banish the childish fears of her companion. As they were some miles from home, they were kindly cared for until morning. Mag was relieved to know her child was not driven to desperation by their intentions to relieve themselves of her, and she was inclined to think severe restraint would be healthful.

  The removal was all arranged ; the few days necessary for such migrations passed quickly, and one bright summer morning they bade farewell to their Singleton hovel, and with budgets and bundles commenced their weary march. As they neared the village, they heard the merry shouts of children gathered around the schoolroom, awaiting the coming of their teacher.

  “ Halloo ! ” screamed one, “ Black, white and yeller ! ” “ Black, white and yeller, ” echoed a dozen voices.

  It did not grate so harshly on poor Mag as once it would. She did not even turn her head to look at them. She had passed into an insensibility no childish taunt could penetrate, else she would have reproached herself as she passed familiar scenes, for extending the separation once so easily annihilated by steadfast integrity. Two miles beyond lived the Bellmonts, in a large, old fashioned, two-story white house, environed by fruitful acres, and embellished by shrubbery and shade trees. Years ago a youthful couple consecrated it as home ; and after many little feet had worn paths to favorite fruit trees, and over its green hills, and mingled at last with brother man in the race which belongs neither to the swift or strong, the sire became grey-haired and decrepid, and went to his last repose. His aged consort soon followed him. The old homestead thus passed into the hands of a son, to whose wife Mag had applied the epithet “ she-devil, ” as may be remembered. John, the son, had not in his family arrangements departed from the example of the father. The pastimes of his boyhood were ever freshly revived by witnessing the games of his own sons as they rallied about the same goal his youthful feet had often won ; as well as by the amusements of his daughters in their imitations of maternal duties.

  At the time we introduce them, however, John is wearing the badge of age. Most of his children were from home ; some seeking employment ; some were already settled in homes of their own. A maiden sister shared with him the estate on which he resided, and occupied a portion of the house.

  Within sight of the house, Seth seated himself with his bundles and the child he had been leading, while Mag walked onward to the house leading Frado. A knock at the door brought Mrs. Bellmont, and Mag asked if she would be willing to let that child stop there while she went to the Reed’s house to wash, and when she came back she would call and get her. It seemed a novel request, but she consented. Why the impetuous child entered the house, we cannot tell ; the door closed, and Mag hastily departed. Frado waited for the cl
ose of day, which was to bring back her mother. Alas ! it never came. It was the last time she ever saw or heard of her mother.

  CHAPTER III.

  A NEW HOME FOR ME.

  Oh ! did we but know of the shadows so nigh,

  The world would indeed be a prison of gloom;

  All light would be quenched in youth’s eloquent eye,

  And the prayer-lisping infant would ask for the tomb.

  For if Hope be a star that may lead us astray,

  And “ deceiveth the heart, ” as the aged ones preach;

  Yet ’twas Mercy that gave it, to beacon our way,

  Though its halo illumes where it never can reach.

  ELIZA COOK.

  As the day closed and Mag did not appear, surmises were expressed by the family that she never intended to return. Mr. Bellmont was a kind, humane man, who would not grudge hospitality to the poorest wanderer, nor fail to sympathize with any sufferer, however humble. The child’s desertion by her mother appealed to his symathy, and he felt inclined to succor her. To do this in opposition to Mrs. Bellmont’s wishes, would be like encountering a whirlwind charged with fire, daggers and spikes. She was not as susceptible of fine emotions as her spouse. Mag’s opinion of her was not without foundation. She was self-willed, haughty, undisciplined, arbitrary and severe. In common parlance, she was a scold, a thorough one. Mr. B. remained silent during the consultation which follows, engaged in by mother, Mary and John, or Jack, as he was familiarly called.

  “ Send her to the County House, ” said Mary, in reply to the query what should be done with her, in a tone which indicated self-importance in the speaker. She was indeed the idol of her mother, and more nearly resembled her in disposition and manners than the others.

  Jane, an invalid daughter, the eldest of those at home, was reclining on a sofa apparently uninterested.

  “ Keep her, ” said Jack. “ She ’s real handsome and bright, and not very black, either. ”

  “ Yes, ” rejoined Mary ; “ that ’s just like you, Jack. She ’ll be of no use at all these three years, right under foot all the time. ”

  “ Poh ! Miss Mary ; if she should stay, it would n’t be two days before you would be telling the girls about our nig, our nig ! ” retorted Jack.

  “ I do n’t want a nigger ’round me, do you, mother ? ” asked Mary.

  “ I do n’t mind the nigger in the child. I should like a dozen better than one, ” replied her mother. “ If I could make her do my work in a few years, I would keep her. I have so much trouble with girls I hire, I am almost persuaded if I have one to train up in my way from a child, I shall be able to keep them awhile. I am tired of changing every few months. ”

  “ Where could she sleep ? ” asked Mary. “ I do n’t want her near me. ”

  “ In the L chamber, ” answered the mother.

  “ How ’ll she get there ? ” asked Jack. “ She’ll be afraid to go through that dark passage, and she can’t climb the ladder safely. ”

  “ She ’ll have to go there ; it ’s good enough for a nigger, ” was the reply.

  Jack was sent on horseback to ascertain if Mag was at her home. He returned with the testimony of Pete Greene that they were fairly departed, and that the child was intentionally thrust upon their family.

  The imposition was not at all relished by Mrs. B., or the pert, haughty Mary, who had just glided into her teens.

  “ Show the child to bed, Jack, ” said his mother. “ You seem most pleased with the little nigger, so you may introduce her to her room. ”

  He went to the kitchen, and, taking Frado gently by the hand, told her he would put her in bed now ; perhaps her mother would come the next night after her.

  It was not yet quite dark, so they ascended the stairs without any light, passing through nicely furnished rooms, which were a source of great amazement to the child. He opened the door which connected with her room by a dark, unfinished passage-way. “ Don’t bump your head, ” said Jack, and stepped before to open the door leading into her apartment, — an unfinished chamber over the kitchen, the roof slanting nearly to the floor, so that the bed could stand only in the middle of the room. A small half window furnished light and air. Jack returned to the sitting room with the remark that the child would soon outgrow those quarters.

  “ When she does, she’ll outgrow the house, ” remarked the mother.

  “ What can she do to help you ? ” asked Mary. “ She came just in the right time, did n’t she ? Just the very day after Bridget left, ” continued she.

  “ I’ll see what she can do in the morning, ” was the answer.

  While this conversation was passing below, Frado lay, revolving in her little mind whether she would remain or not until her mother’s return. She was of wilful, determined nature, a stranger to fear, and would not hesitate to wander away should she decide to. She remembered the conversation of her mother with Seth, the words “ given away ” which she heard used in reference to herself ; and though she did not know their full import, she thought she should, by remaining, be in some relation to white people she was never favored with before. So she resolved to tarry, with the hope that mother would come and get her some time. The hot sun had penetrated her room, and it was long before a cooling breeze reduced the temperature so that she could sleep.

  Frado was called early in the morning by her new mistress. Her first work was to feed the hens. She was shown how it was always to be done, and in no other way ; any departure from this rule to be punished by a whipping. She was then accompanied by Jack to drive the cows to pasture, so she might learn the way. Upon her return she was allowed to eat her breakfast, consisting of a bowl of skimmed milk, with brown bread crusts, which she was told to eat, standing, by the kitchen table, and must not be over ten minutes about it. Meanwhile the family were taking their morning meal in the dining-room. This over, she was placed on a cricket to wash the common dishes ; she was to be in waiting always to bring wood and chips, to run hither and thither from room to room.

  A large amount of dish-washing for small hands followed dinner. Then the same after tea and going after the cows finished her first day’s work. It was a new discipline to the child. She found some attractions about the place, and she retired to rest at night more willing to remain. The same routine followed day after day, with slight variation ; adding a little more work, and spicing the toil with “ words that burn, ” and frequent blows on her head. These were great annoyances to Frado, and had she known where her mother was, she would have gone at once to her. She was often greatly wearied, and silently wept over her sad fate. At first she wept aloud, which Mrs. Bellmont noticed by applying a rawhide, always at hand in the kitchen. It was a symptom of discontent and complaining which must be “ nipped in the bud, ” she said.

  Thus passed a year. No intelligence of Mag. It was now certain Frado was to become a permanent member of the family. Her labors were multiplied ; she was quite indispensable, although but seven years old. She had never learned to read, never heard of a school until her residence in the family.

  Mrs. Bellmont was in doubt about the utility of attempting to educate people of color, who were incapable of elevation. This subject occasioned a lengthy discussion in the family. Mr. Bellmont, Jane and Jack arguing for Frado’s education ; Mary and her mother objecting. At last Mr. Bellmont declared decisively that she should go to school. He was a man who seldom decided controversies at home. The word once spoken admitted of no appeal ; so, notwithstanding Mary’s objection that she would have to attend the same school she did, the word became law.

  It was to be a new scene to Frado, and Jack had many queries and conjectures to answer. He was himself too far advanced to attend the summer school, which Frado regretted, having had too many opportunities of witnessing Miss Mary’s temper to feel safe in her company alone.

  The opening day of school came. Frado sauntered on far in the rear of Mary, who was ashamed to be seen “ walking with a nigger. ” As soon as she appeared, with scanty
clothing and bared feet, the children assembled, noisily published her approach: “ See that nigger, ” shouted one. “ Look ! look ! ” cried another. “ I won’t play with her, ” said one little girl. “ Nor I neither, ” replied another.

  Mary evidently relished these sharp attacks, and saw a fair prospect of lowering Nig where, according to her views, she belonged. Poor Frado, chagrined and grieved, felt that her anticipations of pleasure at such a place were far from being realized. She was just deciding to return home, and never come there again, when the teacher appeared, and observing the downcast looks of the child, took her by the hand, and led her into the school-room. All followed, and, after the bustle of securing seats was over, Miss Marsh inquired if the children knew “ any cause for the sorrow of that little girl ? ” pointing to Frado. It was soon all told. She then reminded them of their duties to the poor and friendless ; their cowardice in attacking a young innocent child ; referred them to one who looks not on outward appearances, but on the heart. “ She looks like a good girl ; I think I shall love her, so lay aside all prejudice, and vie with each other in shewing kindness and good-will to one who seems different from you, ” were the closing remarks of the kind lady. Those kind words ! The most agreeable sound which ever meets the ear of sorrowing, grieving childhood.

  Example rendered her words efficacious. Day by day there was a manifest change of deportment towards “ Nig. ” Her speeches often drew merriment from the children ; no one could do more to enliven their favorite pastimes than Frado. Mary could not endure to see her thus noticed, yet knew not how to prevent it. She could not influence her schoolmates as she wished. She had not gained their affections by winning ways and yielding points of controversy. On the contrary, she was self-willed, domineering ; every day reported “ mad ” by some of her companions. She availed herself of the only alternative, abuse and taunts, as they returned from school. This was not satisfactory ; she wanted to use physical force “ to subdue her, ” to “ keep her down. ”