The Bondwoman's Narrative

by Hannah Crafts

  “I was thinking of many things connected with my past life” I answered.

  “It was almost too bad to disturb such a fine train of meditation” he replied. “Had you been long in the service of Mr Trappe?”

  I told him that I had not.

  “I thought so” he answered. “Trappe never keeps a servant long. He buys only for speculation. He is one of the strangest, most mysterious, and unfathomable of old gentlemen. I never saw such a man before, tho’ I have seen many hard cases. Why he has no more feeling than a bit of iron. A tortoise has quite as much sentiment.”

  “Have you been acquainted with him?” I asked.

  “Why yes for a considerable time I have, though we never had any intimacy except in the line of our trade. I believe my society is somewhat repulsive to his aristocratic notions, but I think that my business is quite as respectable as his.”

  “I don’t understand you I said “very likely.”

  “I am called a slave-trader—I am one—I know that it is not considered reputable, but I don’t care. I try to deal honest, and act honorably. I would rather be cheated myself than cheat another. Public opinion is arbitrary and unjust, so I don’t care for it. Very respectable people, honorable gentlemen, grave Senators, and even the republican Presidents buy slaves; are they better than I am, who sells them?[”]

  “I should suppose not, yet what has that to do with Mr Trappe.”

  Without noticing my inquiry he proceeded.

  [“]Now strictly speaking Trappe cannot be considered a slave-trader, yet he is quite his business is quite essential to trade. Then going around the country as he does, prying into secrets, and watching his chance, he has all the opportunity in the world to make great bargains. Many a likely wench whom he had bought or obtained in a private manner and for a mere trifle, I have purchased of him for a good round sum, and sold again, making money by the operation. Yet few know him for what he is a slave speculator, and still fewer are aware of his true character as a hard uncompromising grinding man.[”]

  “Well, I am beyond his power now” I remarked in the a manner of thinking aloud.

  “And you needn’t be sorry for it neither” said Saddler. [“]Worse hands, that is more selfish and unfeeling you can scarcely fall into. But you are getting hungry I should think; at any rate you ought to be, and see here I have got something good.[”]

  Saying this he thrust his hand deep into the capacious pocket of his outer garment and drew thence a paper parcel, which he threw in my lap.

  Opening it I found some very nice cake, iced over with sugar, and highly delicious.

  “It’s very good, eat” he said again.

  Though not hungry, rather than appear insensible to his kindness I ate a small quantity.

  “Very good isn’t it?” he inquired.

  I answered that it was.

  “Well now” he continued “do try just to oblige me to look glad and cheery. You will feel better, and I shall feel better. Don’t you never smile?”

  I shook my head and said “not lately.”

  “That’s rather bad news” he answered. “I always like to hear my people sing, to have them laugh, and see them jovial and merry.”

  At this juncture of the conversation another carriage wagon approached and attempted to pass ours. This aroused the temper of Dan, as Saddler Saddler’s horse, and throwing his head around, a habit he had, he set off at full speed Saddler called to him utterly regardless of the rein or voice of his master. I was surprised and then frightened at his velocity. Trees, houses, fences seemed to fly past us with the speed of the wind. I heard the ringing of bells, the shouts of people, and the barking of dogs. Sometimes men came running out, or we obtained a glimpse of women and children standing with uplifted hands before doors and windows. The people, the voices, and the noise seemed still more to frighten the horse, and though flecked with foam from flank to nostril, his limbs apparently acquired new vigor with every moment. Up hill and down, along hedges, over bridges on, on, we flew. At first the horse kept the road admirably; then as we neared a bridge with a high embankment some of the fastenings broke and he began to plunge and rear. I have an indistinct remembrance of boards flying about in every direction, of a loud noise, a spinning whirling motion, and then all was darkness. When I came to myself the scene was changed, and I almost doubted my identity. I was in a warm pleasant little bed, in a darkened room, and several persons whom I had no remembrance of ever having seen before were passing in and out. There was one lady with so benevolent a countenance that my heart warmed towards her as if she were my own mother, my mother whom I had never seen. She was sitting beside me, and seeing that I partly recovered she approached her sweet face to mine and whispered “Lie still, dear, very still, you have been badly injured, but are among friends.”

  I attempted to reply, but became aware of an overpowering weakness that benumbed all my senses. A mountain seemed seated on my breast, and I could not stir.

  “There, dear” she whispered again “don’t worry or exert yourself. You shall know all in time.”

  Presently I ascertained that my arm was bandaged as if some one had been drawing blood. I discovered also that my limbs were securely fastened down splintered and fastened down as in cases of broken bones. The benevolent lady went out, but soon returned with a nourishing cordial, of which I partook sparingly, and felt greatly revived. I soon became aware that several persons were collected in an adjoining apartment and I thought fancied they spoke of me, of my master, and our horse that ran away. Hearing myself thus spoken of brought back the past, and I shuddered and grew faint with the remembrance.

  Again the benevolent-looking woman was at my side.

  “Fear nothing, dear” she said in her pleasant way, and then added suiting the action to the word “Have a little more drink.” The beverage was cool and refreshing. I would have thanked her, but my lips refused to give utterance to the words died on my lips.

  I wanted to ask for my master, as the last I remembered was seeing him white as a sheet, holding to the reins, while the horse was kicking and plunging and the boards flying just on the brink of a precipice. Again I strove to speak, but could not and this time articulated “Master, where?”

  The benevolent Lady, whose name I subsequently ascertained to be Mrs. Henry, looked rather surprised and coming close to the bed again cautioned me to be silent. But I had sufficiently recovered to experience the most intense anxiety, and would not be put off so.

  “Master, where” I cried again and this time in a louder tone.

  The attendants whispered among themselves. They were all colored with the exception of Mrs Henry, and one of them going to that Lady whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded affirmatively.

  I knew very well that some dreadful casuality had befallen us, and I asked to know the particulars the very worst.

  Just then a door was suddenly opened, and naturally turning my eyes in that direction I caught a glimpse of something white and stiff. I knew what it resembled—a dead man laid out. I looked for an explanation to Mrs. Henry. She understood my mute appealing glance.

  “Do you inquire for the gentleman with whom you were riding?” she said approaching the bed.

  I assented.

  “Was he a near relative?”

  I replied in the negative.

  “Only a dear friend?”

  It now occurred to me that she was ignorant of our true characters, as master and slave. Should I perpetuate the delusion, or acknowledge frankly my humble condition. I was sorely tempted, but only for a moment. My better nature prevailed.

  “Only a friend” she repeated.

  “My master, Madam” I faltered.

  “Your master” she reiterated slowly “were you then—”

  “A slave” I answered. “I am one of that miserable class.”

  “Your master, then is dead” she said. “The horse it seems ran away.”

  “I know that.”

  [“]And you were precipitated
down a precipice. The gentleman struck with his head on a rock, or so it appears. Appearances indicate that he died instantly.”

  “And the horse?”

  “Was dying when found. Your escape seems almost a miracle. You were lying insensible, buried beneath the rubbish of the broken wagon. I was passing in my carriage, and saw when they drew you out. You were a woman, and a stranger, and I gave them directions to bring you to my house.”

  “We found papers on the gentleman” continued Mrs Henry [“]that informed us of his name and place of residence, but nothing further. And now, my dear” she went on [“]since I have gratified your curiosity try to be composed, and go to sleep if you can, remembering that a merciful Providence watches over the humblest as the greatest. Do you ever pray.”

  “I try to, Madam. A prayer was on my lips, and in my heart at the moment of that fearful fall.”

  [“]And it was doubtless heard, and answered, too” she replied. “What a blessed thing is prayer?—and the duty of thanksgiving should not be forgotten.[”]

  I felt the rebuke implied in her words, and lifted up my my heart to God.

  I had feared for a moment that Mrs Henry, when she discovered my abject condition, would withdraw the smiles of her loving-kindness. I even watched her countenance to see if I could detect in it any change. But all honor to the Spirit of Christ within her— there was none—though I sometimes fancied that her looks were more tender and compassionate, that her voice had a softer, per-chance a more pitying tone. It was evident that she neither hated nor despised me for a misfortune that I could not help.

  I shall say little of these sick experiences lest I prove tedious or unintelligible. I was not unhappy though the path before me was all dark. It might have been owing to the utter prostration of my nervous system that rendered me unable to experience any intensity of emotion, or it might be that the Redeemer was leading me in spirit through the green pastures and beside the still waters of Gospel truth and peace, but a long repose succeeded to my recent trials and distresses—repose of body and mind—so calm so placid, so undeviating, that even more after the vicissitudes of years had they told me I was dying, or was to be exposed in the market on the next day, it would only have awakened a sensation of deeper trust, a firmer reliance on the Mighty hand.

  My injuries, too, though precluding exercise or motion were not of a painful kind. I enjoyed long long hours of the sweetest sleep rendered luxurious by pleasant dreams. I had no care for myself, but I could see them watching over and caring for me. I could see Mrs Henry, so tender and careful, superintending the servants who were setting the room in order, or speaking softly to her children who were playing beneath the window, and requesting them to make less noise. I could understand the deep quietude that pervaded the house, and it spoke so much of their thoughtfulness and solicitude that it nearly affected me to tears. What was I?—a slave yet no one seemed to know it, or to treat me on that account with any less tenderness. What had I ever done to merit so much kindness? Nothing. Nothing. I could only recognise in it the hand of my Father. By and by my strength began to be restored, and my bruised and shattered limbs became capable of motion. At first of very little, then gradually and by degrees of more and much more, untill I could set [sit] upright, and instead of lying all day watching with a strange calmness the motions of the nurse, and quietly submitting to what she thought proper to do for me, I began to be useful to myself, and interested in attending to my own wants.

  How well I remember the pleasant evening when I left my room for the first time to enjoy the social conviviality of a wedding party. Mrs Henry who seemed sent into the world to dispense good-feeling and happiness loved to indulge her servants in all innocent pleasures not inconsistent with their duties. Her favorite slave, a beautiful Quadroon was to be married that night to a young man belonging to a neighboring estate, and the amiable mistress determined to make the nuptials of one the occasion of a holiday for the whole establishment. The woods and fields had been ransacked for early spring flowers and violets to adorn the drawing room. Cakes, confectionary and wine had been abundantly provided, and all the servants old and young big and little were invited to be present. Queer looking old men, whose black faces withered and puckered contrasted strangely with their white beards and hair; fat portly dames whose ebony complexions were set off by turbans of flaming red, boys, girls and an abundance of babies, were there—all flaunting in finery and gay clothes of rainbow colors, and all doing their utmost to appear to the best advantage. The bride and bridegroom with their attendants were elegantly dressed; Mr Henry, the master and a clergyman, pronounced the nuptial benediction. Then there was feasting and Then there was exchanging of compliments, and so much feasting, and laughing, and talking, and rejoicing that I was quite confused and hardly knew what to do with myself. Mrs Henry entered with all her heart into the spirit of the scene. She really seemed to exult in the happiness around her. Her countenance beaming with smiles and her eyes sparkling with animation she passed around the room, caressing the children, greeting the mothers, and bestowing little attentions here and there on the aged or infirm. All eyes followed her and I am sure that all hearts blest her.

  As the evening advanced the party seperated, but there was a great noise of fiddling and dancing till late at night. From the window of my little apartment which opened on the lawn I could see the gay groups collected on the smooth green, and chasing each other through the flying dance, or laughing and chatting in a great state of mirthful enjoyment. I gazed at them and wondered if they were really so happy—wondered if no dark shadows of coming evil never haunted their minds. Then I thought of the young couple, who had so recently taken the vows and incurred the responsibilities of marriage—vows and responsibilities strangely fearful when taken in connection with their servile condition. Did the future spread before them bright and cloudless? Did they anticipate domestic felicity, and long years of wedded love: when their lives, their limbs, their very souls were subject to the control of another’s will; when the husband could not be at liberty to provide a home for his wife, nor the wife be permitted to attend to the wants of her husband, and when living apart in a state of separate bondage they could only meet occasionally at best, and then might be decreed without a moment’s warning to never meet again.

  The night had been beautiful and balmy, and the fine moonlight lay like a mantle of soft resplendence over the scene, but a cloud had suddenly risen, and just as the bride, conspicuous in her snowy robes joined the group of dancers, it swept over the moon extinguishing her light, and a burst of thunder announced the approaching tempest. Suddenly and without further warning the winds arose, clouds obscured the firmament, and there was darkness, and lightning, and rain, where only a few minutes before had been youth, and beauty, and love, and light, and joyousness.

  Did this change prefigure the destiny of the wedding pair.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Henry Family

  Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord: she shall be praised.

  SOLOMON

  It was in May I think; at least I remember that the first roses were blowing, when I recovered my accustomed strength, and became able to pass in and out as I pleased, and to form an acquaintance with the many interesting objects surrounding the house, and connected in various ways with this amiable family.

  Every house with its surroundings possesses an air of individuality. In some it is more strongly developed than in others, yet it appertains to all in a greater or less degree. “Forget me not” as this dwelling had been beautifully and not inappropriately named was one of those dear old houses rich in panel work and fresco, and whose construction from first to last bespeaks an association with the past. Who does not find a charm about these ancient houses, with their delightfully irregular apartments, embellished with quaint carvings and mouldings, brown with age, and awaking in the mind a thousand reminiscen[c]es of olden times and fashions. Such houses were built rather for solid utility than
for show, consequently the materials are durable and the timbers massy, but there is likewise a great deal of variety, taste, and elaborate ornamenting. You cannot take them in at a glance, or understand their design at first sight as in those of modern style. But you pass from one room into another, and go up and down steps, and note a bountiful supply of little halls, entries, and passages leading you cannot tell where. Then every room seems a wonder in itself, with its old-fashioned fire place, and little windows, surrounded by lattice work with the luxuriant growth of honey-suckle and jasmine pressing through it; to say nothing of the great numbers of small doors concealed behind panels, and opening into closets, wardrobes, and beaufats [buffets] abundantly provided with shelves and hooks for storing away or hanging up things, with other little contrivances for convenience and usefulness that it might be tedious to mention.

  Such a house as this was “Forget me not.” And then the furniture coincided exactly with the style of the building it was furnished in a style and manner that corresponded exactly with itself. The furniture was not old, but rather old-fashioned, various, and pleasantly irregular. One room really seemed a parterre of flowers—flowers natural and artificial—flowers of wax, of paper, of needle-work, and embroidery—flowers of chintz, of velvet and of brocade. Yet there was no sameness about it; for these beauties of the fields and gardens, whatever might [be] their substance, were so varied in shape and color, and arranged with so much taste that they had a happy and surprising effect. The furniture of this room was light airy and fantastic after the fashion of garden chairs and benches, with a small table deeply carved with the design of a wreath, turning around the legs, along the sides, and gathered into a bunch bunch of leaves on the top.