The Portable Nineteenth-Century African American Women Writers

by Various

  My dream was destined to be realized. One day while I was sitting on a little bank, beneath the shade of some large trees, at a short distance from my playmates, when an aged woman approached me. She was white, and looked venerable with her grey hair smoothly put back beneath a plain sun bonnet, and I recollected having seen her once or twice at my master’s house whither she came to sell salves and ointments, and hearing it remarked that she was the wife of a sand-digger and very poor.

  She smiled benevolently and inquired why I concealed my book, and with child-like artlessness I told her all. How earnestly I desired knowledge, how our Master interdicted it, and how I was trying to teach myself. She stood for a few moments apparently buried in deep thought, but I interpreted her looks and actions favorably, and an idea struck me that perhaps she could read, and would become my teacher. She seemed to understand my wish before I expressed it.

  “Child” she said “I was thinking of our Saviour’s words to Peter where he commands the latter to ‘feed his lambs.’ I will dispense to you such knowledge as I possess. Come to me each day. I will teach you to read in the hope and trust that you will thereby be made better in this world and that to come.[”] Her demeanor like her words was very grave and solemn.

  “Where do you live?[”] I inquired.

  “In the little cottage just around the foot of the hill” she replied.

  “I will come: Oh how eagerly, how joyfully” I answered “but if master finds it out his anger will be terrible; and then I have no means of paying you.”

  She smiled quietly, bade me fear nothing, and went her way. I returned home that evening with a light heart. Pleased, delighted, overwhelmed with my good fortune in prospective I felt like a being to whom a new world with all its mysteries and marvels was opening, and could scarcely repress my tears of joy and thankfulness.

  CHAPTER 13

  A Turn of the Wheel

  Mrs Wheeler conceived her beauty to be on the wane. She had been a belle in youth, and the thought of her fading charms was unendurable. That very day an antiquated lady, with a large mouth filled with false teeth, a head covered with false hair, and a thin scrawny neck, beneath which swelled out a false bust, had called on my mistress with what she designated very highly important information. I supposed at first that the President’s wife was dead, or the secretary’s daughter about to be married, but it was something more interesting to fashionable ladies than even that. Some great Italian chemist, a Signor with an unpronounceable name had discovered or rather invented an impalpable powder, fine, highly scented, and luxurious, that applied to the hands and face was said to produce the most marvellous effect. The skin, however sallow and unbeautiful, would immediately acquire the softness and delicacy of childhood. Tan, or freckless [freckles], or wrinkles, or other unseemly blotches would simultaneously disappear, and to render the article still more attractive it was said that only two or three boxes of it yet remained. Of course Mrs Wheeler was all impatience to obtain one of them, and her visitor was scarcely out of hearing when I was summoned, and directed to go at once to the Chemist’s, and get a box of the Italian Medicated Powder. No hesitancy on account of mud or bad weather was allowable. I went, purchased the last box, and when returning passed two gentlemen, standing in a somewhat sheltered place apparently conversing on some subject of deep interest. There was something in the coat of seedy black, and the general bearing and manner of one of them, which instantly arrested my attention, but the driving mist and sleet was full in my face, with the gloom momentarily thickening, so that I failed to obtain a perfect view of his features. It was certainly very ill-mannered, but stimulated by curiosity I even turned back to look at them, and not minding my footing through pre-occupation of mind I slipped very suddenly and came down with all my weight on the rough paving stones. The two gentlemen immediately came forward, and one of them assisting me to rise, kindly inquired if I was hurt. I looked into the face of the other I knew. I knew him on the instant Oh then I knew him on the instant, I could have remembered his eyes and countenance among a thousand. It was Mr Trapp[e].

  Whether or not the recognition was mutual I had no means of ascertaining, but his presence to me seemed ominous of evil, and hastily murmuring my thanks I hastened home.

  Mr Wheeler was in the apartment of his wife when I entered it. He was a little dapper man, very quick in his motions, and with little round piercing black eyes set far back in his head. He had the exact air and manner of a Frenchman, but was reputed to be very obstinate in his way, and to have little respect for constituted authorities in his moments of passion. Report said that he had actually quarreled with the President, and challenged a senator to fight a duel, besides laying a cowhide on a certain occasion over the broad shoulders of a member of Congress. At any rate he had been turned out of office, and now was busily engaged in hunting another. Consequently he was seldom at home, being usually to be found haunting the bureau of some department or other, and striving to engage attention by talking in sharp shrill voice, accompanied with violent gesticulation of what should be done in one place, or had been left undone in another. He knows exactly where a screw is loose, and he understands perfectly to tighten it again. On many matters he is better informed than the President. He could give instructions to the secretaries of the army and navy, but they are old, obstinate, and headstrong, and won’t listen to his advice.

  • • •

  On the present occasion Mr Wheeler came to ask a favor of his wife. Another vacancy had occurred, but the gift was in the power of a gentleman, with whom at some time or another of his life Mr Wheeler had some disturbance, and much as he desired the office he dreaded still more the humiliation of asking for it. Could not his wife be induced to make the request? He thought with a little well-timed flattery she might. Ladies of great consideration not unfrequently petitioned for their husbands. The President had been importuned by them till he almost feared the sight of a woman. The Secretaries had fared little better; indeed all who had offices to bestow had been coaxed, and flattered, and addled by female tongues untill they scarcely knew what they were about. They said, too, that female petitioners were likeliest to succeed. Perhaps that was the reason of his frequent failure. Had he brought his wife sooner into the field, in all probability he would have secured a prize with far less trouble. The experiment is worth trying at any rate, though he is not positive that the lady will concur.

  “I regret to say, my dear” continued Mr Wheeler “that I am the object of continued opposition. Men of attainment in a high position of society always have their enemies of course. I have mine. Not so with you. You, I am proud to say it, are universally admired. Then no gentleman would think for a moment of opposing a lady. Certainly not. Now a vacancy has just occurred, and Mrs Piper is intriguing to have it filled by her husband. It is a very important office, worth about two thousand a year.”

  “Then she expects to get it, does she?—and a failure would mortify her exceedingly. She is so haughty, vain, and conceited. Wouldn’t it be pleasant to disappoint her?”

  “It would, indeed.”

  “Who makes the appointment?”

  Mr Wheeler gave the desired information.

  The lady sate [sat] a few moments in profound silence, then she spoke though rather as talking to herself than any one else. “Mrs Piper, indeed, going to obtain a situation for her husband when mine has none. But I’ll disappoint her, that I will. Mr Wheeler you shall have this office. I’ll see to it that you do.”

  Mr Wheeler bowed complacently. Nothing could suit his purpose better.

  “I’ll go now, this very evening” continued the lady. “The weather is so bad that probably the gentleman will be at home. And then he will be more likely to be disengaged. Hannah you can prepare my toilet.”

  “Certainly.”

  “My rich antique moire, and purple velvent [velvet] mantilla. Mr Wheeler be so good as to order the carriage.”

 
Two bows, and a two expressions of “certainly Madam” were the response to this.

  Mrs Wheeler did not forget her beautifying powder.

  “How lucky” she exclaimed [“]that I sent for it just when I did. Don’t be sparing of it Hannah, dear, as I wish to look particularly well.”

  The powder was very fine, soft, and white, and certainly did add much to the beauty of her appearance. I had never seen her look better. Mr Wheeler complimented her, hoped that she would be careful of herself and not take cold, and actually kissed her hand as he assisted her into the carriage, observing to me as he stepped back on the pavement “She is a dear, good, noble woman.”

  The next moment I heard my voice called, and turning round beheld Mrs Wheeler leaning from the carriage window and beckoning.

  “Hannah, dear” she cried on my approach. “I forgot my smelling-bottle, go and bring it, that new one I obtained purchased yesterday.”

  “Yes Madam” and back I went to the house, procured the smelling-bottle, Mr Wheeler advanced to meet me, took the little delicate supporter of weak nerves, and handing it to his wife, the carriage drove off.

  In two hours a carriage stopped at the door; the bell was rung with a hasty jerk, and the servant admitted a lady, who came directly to Mrs Wheeler’s apartment. I was greatly surprised; for though the vail, the bonnet, and the dress were those of that lady, or exactly similar, the face was black.

  I stood gazing in mute amazement, when a voice not in the least languid called out “What are you gazing at me in that manner for? Am I to be insulted by my own slaves?”

  Mr Wheeler just that moment stepped in. She turned towards him, and the mixture of surprise and curiosity with which he regarded her was most ludicrous.

  “Are you all gone mad?” inquired the not now languid voice. “Or what is the matter?”

  “You may well ask that question” exclaimed Mr Wheeler, sobbing with suppressed laughter. “Why, Madam, I didn’t know you. Your face is black as Tophet.[”]

  “Black?” said the lady, the expression of astonishment on his countenance transferred to hers.

  “Hannah bring the mirror.”

  I complied.

  She gazed a moment, and then her mingled emotions of grief, rage, and shame were truly awful. To all Mr Wheeler’s inquiries of “how did it happen, my dear?[”] and [“]how came your face to turn black, my dear?” she only answered that she did not know, had no idea, and then she wept and moaned, and finally went into a fit of strong hysterics. Mr Wheeler and myself quickly flew to her assistance. To tell the truth he was now more concerned about his wife than the office now.

  “Heaven help me” he said bending over her. “I fear that her beauty has gone forever. What a dreadful thing it is. I never heard of the like.”

  “It must have been the powder.”

  “The powder was white I thought.”

  “The powder certainly is white, and yet it may posses such chemical properties as occasion blackness. Indeed I recently saw in the newspapers some accounts of a chemist who having been jilted by a lady very liberal in the application of powder to her face had invented as a method of revenge a certain kind of smelling bottles, of which the fumes would suddenly blacken the whitest skin provided the said cosmetic had been previously applied.”

  “You wretch” exclaimed the lady suddenly opening her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me of this before?”

  “I—I—didn’t think of it, didn’t know it was necessary” I stammered in extenuation.

  “Oh no: you didn’t think of it, you never think of anything that you ought to, and I must be insulted on account of your thoughtlessness, right before Mrs Piper, too. Get out of my sight this instant. I never want to see you again.”

  “My dear Madam” I said, kneeling at her feet, and attempting to kiss her hand “how should I know that those mentioned in the papers were identical with those you purchased.”

  Here Mr Wheeler interposed and told her that he did not see how I could be to blame.

  “Of course, you don’t” she replied mockingly eager to vent her spleen on somebody “of course, you don’t. No: no: what husband ever could agree with his wife. Slaves generally are far preferable to wives in husbands’ eyes.”

  Mr Wheeler’s face flushed with anger. The allusion was most uncalled for, and ungenerous. However recovering his serenity in a moment he inquired who had insulted her.

  “Why everybody” she replied, making another demonstration of hysterics.

  “Don’t have another fit, pray” said the husband, applying the camphor to her nose. “Hannah bring some water and wash off this hedious stuff.”

  I procured the water, brought a basin, soap, napkin, and cloth, and went to work. Gradually and by little and little the skin resumed its natural color.

  • • •

  Finding themselves the subjects of such unwelcome notoreity 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 [sic] had gone.

  12

  SARAH PARKER REMOND

  (1826–1894)

  Sarah Parker Remond’s work stands out stylistically from the other writings in this anthology. Remond was relatively privileged: the ninth child of a wealthy free black family in Salem, Massachusetts, she had access to books and, along with other members of her abolitionist family, lectured across the Northeast and Canada. She had even greater success in London and Ireland, launching an influential tour in 1859 where she lectured and rallied support for abolition, speaking passionately on the plight of women particularly. Described as “ladylike” in the press, Remond spoke from reason rather than experience, citing facts and proofs of slavery’s horrors. After the start of the Civil War, she advocated for participation of newly free blacks as soldiers. In 1868, Remond emigrated to Italy, where she lived out the rest of her life. She died in 1894 and is buried in Rome.

  Remond’s address presented here, “The Negroes in the United States of America,” was given in London to the International Congress of Charities, Correction, and Philanthropy in 1862. African Americans, Remond argues, “desire and need the moral support of Great Britain,” and the people of Great Britain have an economic incentive to support the end of slavery in America.

  “The Negroes in the United States of America” (1862)

  SOURCE: Sarah Parker Remond, “The Negroes in the United States of America,” Journal of Negro History 27, no. 2 (April 1942): 216–18.

  Amid the din of civil war, and the various and antagonistic interests arising from the internal dissensions now going on in the United States of North America, the negroes and their descendants, whether enslaved or free, desire and need the moral support of Great Britain, in this most important but hopeful hour of their history. They, of all others, have the most at stake; not only material prosperity, but “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Almost simultaneously with the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in 1620, a slave-ship, a Dutch vessel, with twenty negroes stolen from Africa, entered Chesapeake Bay, and sailed on to Jamestown. Here the twenty negroes were landed, and chattel slavery established in the New World; a sad, sad hour for the African race. These twenty human souls were landed most opportunely. The infant colony was then in a perilous condition; many of the colonists had died from exposure and hardships; many others from incompetency to grapple with their fate. Those who survived had become almost disheartened, when the arrival of the negroes gave new vitality to the enfeebled colony at Virginia, and revived the sinking colonists. The negroes were received as a farmer receives a useful and profitable animal; although, at that time, their services were invaluable. In return for their services, they and their posterity have been doomed to a life of slavery. Then took root chattel slavery,
which has produced such physical, mental, and moral degradation upon an unprotected and unoffending race. It has always been exceedingly difficult to ascertain the exact number of slaves in the Southern states; the usual estimate is about four and a half millions. These human chattels are but property in the estimation of slave-holders, and receive by public opinion, established custom, and law, only the protection which is generally given to animals. From the son of a southern slaveholder, Mr. H. R. Helper of North Carolina, we have the number of slaves in the Southern states:—

  Alabama

  342,844

  Brought up

  1,321,767

  Arkansas

  47,100

  Louisiana

  244,809

  Delaware

  2,290

  Maryland

  90,368

  Florida

  39,310

  Mississippi

  309,878

  Georgia

  381,622

  Missouri

  87,422

  Kentucky

  210,981

  N. Carolina

  288,548

  Tennessee

  239,459

  S. Carolina

  384,984

  Texas