The Bondwoman's Narrative (25 page)

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.

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

S
OLOMON

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.

Another room was adorned with shells, another with pictures of birds, all various yet so beautiful and true to nature that
I never wearied in looking at them. Here were birds of Paradise just dropping into the balmy recesses of some cinnamon grove;
and there were flocks of splendid macaws hovering over the magnificent
palms of the tropics. The great white owl of the North
was not forgotten; indeed all the countries of the earth were represented in the portraits of the
with the surrounding deserts of snow was not forgotten; indeed all the countries of the earth were represented in the portraits
of their birds.

In other rooms there was a mingling of unique and singular objects in tasteful confusion. Pictures of men, angels and domestic
animals side by side with landscapes wrought in needle-work, or sketches in crayons of rocks, crags, and rivers.

In these rooms the tables and chairs were of great variety and pattern. No two were alike. There were great chairs stuffed
and covered with courtly brocade and little chairs in chintz, some had high backs and some had low, some were turned, others
carved, while some were provided with rockers, others with castors [casters], and others again had neither.

The same quaint variety prevailed everywhere and in every thing. It
the carpets, hangings, glasses
was displayed in the carpets, the hangings, and the glasses, and even in the scent-bottles and pincushions on the toilet
tables. They agreed in nothing, but perfect neatness and good taste.

In the lodges of the servants, and every thing pertaining to the establishment the same variety was observable. There was
a garden for flowers, another for vegetables, and a third for fruit. There was a spring in one place, a well in another, and
a fountain in a third. I could never sufficiently admire the order and harmony of the arrangements, which blent [blended]
so many parts into a perfect whole.

Method and regularity likewise prevailed over the estate. The overseer was gentle and kind, and the slaves were industrious
and obedient, not through fear of punishment, but because they
felt it to be their duty
loved and respected a master and mistress so amiable and good. Of these, especially the master, I have hitherto
said little,
and even now it is not my intention to draw their portraits. I could not do so if I wished. I might, indeed, describe their
size and figure, might enlarge on the color of
their
their eyes and hair, but after all what language could portray the ineffable expression of a countenance beaming with soul
and intelligence? how should I convey in words an adequate idea of a manner refined by education, polished by mingling in
good society, and perfected by that true Christian politeness which springs from kindness of heart?