The Bondwoman's Narrative (39 page)

“From first to last, the circumstances were most singular” said one of the gentlemen, a tall good-looking man dressed in black.

“Very much so, indeed, very much so” answered his companion, speaking with a quick nervous accent, and reiterating his expressions
over and over again. “Very much so, indeed, I should say.”

“I only heard the particulars yesterday” continued the tall man.

“Did you ever see the old gentleman?” inquired the other.

“Oh yes frequently, he was a noted character, a great trav[e]ler, and almost everybody knew him, though it is doubtful if
all his aristocrat associates were aware of
how he had obtained his great wealth
the means by which he had obtained his great wealth, or how hard and unfeeling he could be when it suited his purposes. He
was a man of no principle.”

“He had neither feeling, nor sympathy in common with other people. Love of gold had blunted all the finer sensibilities of
his heart, and he would not have hesitated a moment to sell his own mother into slavery could the case have been made clear
that she had African blood in her veins. No blood-hound was ever keener in scenting out the African taint than that old man.”

“And one of his victims slew him?”

[“]It is so supposed. He had a country house in a lonesome and retired place to which he generally caused the girls whom he
purchased to be removed, and where he kept them concealed till some trader came around to whom he could sell them at an advanced
price. His recent speculations in that line involved a peculiar and complicated affair. A wealthy planter with whom he had
associated on terms of the closest intimacy had a family of beautiful children both boys and girls, but the mother was, or
had been a slave, though she enjoyed all the perquisites and priveledges of a wife.
Indeed her master had told her times without
number that he had made out and signed the bill of her emancipation, besides making herself and her children his heirs in
the event of his death. Of course the poor woman saw no reason to dispute his truth or honesty and so the matter rested. The
children were well educated for stations of honor and usefulness, and little dreamed of the terrible blow that awaited them.
At length the father, who had been long ailing, died. He had brothers,
and these so
who were extremely angry at the tenor of his will, and who employed Mr Trappe to
endeavor
invalidate it, while to the infinite surprise of all no bill of emancipation for either the mother or her children could
be discovered. It was more than hinted that Mr Trappe, who had
access to the planter’s papers during his illness
visited the sick man, and had access to all parts of the house, had found and destroyed it. But this was mere conjecture,
as no positive proof could be adduced that such an article had ever been in existence.[”]

“How unfortunate.”

“The distress of the family may be imagined; it certainly never can be described. Prostrated at once from happiness and wealth
to the lowest depth of degradation and misery they spent the days in tears and the nights in bitter lamentations over the
past.

[“]The sons, however, were not so easily disconcerted as the mother and daughter. It seems they worried the old man dreadfully,
followed him about, went to his chambers and openly accused him of destroying or secreting their father’s papers.”

“This was during the course of the litigation, I suppose.”

“Certainly, during the litigation which lasted a long time, and finally ended by consigning mother and children to the slave-market.
Mr Trappe, who always took opportunity by the forelock had foreseen the end, and accordingly purchased the females at a risk,
previous to the final settlement of the business, at a very reduced price. The sons and brothers had disappeared and no one
knew where. Many supposed they had ran [run] off to the North, and wondered why their dear and near relatives did not accompany
them.[”]

“It certainly was singular.”

“Not at all; they had other plans in view I suppose. One of them was heard to observe that if Trappe succeeded in trapping
his mother and sisters he would never entrap anyone else, that he thought the old fellow had been the occasion of enough misery
already, and that whoever put him out of the way would deserve the thanks of the community for ridding the world of a villain.[”]

“Plain spoken indeed.”

“Very, plain spoken, and it has been ascertained that Mr Trappe considered himself so much in danger from these fellows that
he took the precaution of making oath against them, and nothing in the world hindered their arrest only the simple fact that
they could not be found.”

“A very good reason truly” laughed the little man. “An admirable reason.”

[“]But they could not have been as far off as was at first supposed. Mr Trappe’s man-servant caught a glimpse once or twice
of fellows answering their description, who seemed to be lurking, as he thought and as it proved, for evil purposes around
the habitation of the former. He informed his master of the circumstances, and the old man manifested considerable agitation.[”]

“Were these females at Mr Trappe’s county seat?”

“They were; and by some unknown ways and means they must have kept up a constant communication with their relatives.”

“Well, they fled.”

“Certainly, they fled, and their absence in the morning was the first intimation the old man received that mischief had been
done, or that strangers had been there during the night.[”]

“He can tell a straight story, then.”

“Oh yes. He says that he shut and barred the doors as usual and went to look at the ladies; it being his duty to see them
at least three times a day, that the mother was weeping while the girls were endeavoring to comfort her and that he left them
thus pleasantly engaged.”

“Pleasantly engaged” said the little man. “Does he call weeping a pleasant engagement?”

“He seemed to think it was for women. However on going to their apartments next morning he was greatly surprised to find the
doors and windows fastened as
usual
he had left them, though the birds were flown, while neither sign nor trace of where they had gone, or how they had escaped
could be discovered. Deprecating his master’s anger which he knew would be fierce, and striving to frame some vindication
of his own conduct he ascended to the chamber the lawyer occupied. The door was shut; he knocked loudly, there was no response.
Somewhat astonished he opened it and walked in. Mr. Trappe was lying with his face downward to the floor.

“Master” said the servant.

All silent.

“The girls have escaped.”

No answer.

He advanced, touched his hand, turned him over. There was a hole in his forehead, a bullet had penetrated his brain. His schemes
of wealth and ambition had suddenly terminated,
He was dead
and he had gone to that fearful and final reckoning which none can escape.”

“And nothing further is known?”

“Nothing, except that a lady who was watching over her sick child in the night heard a carriage driven furiously by, apparently
towards the north.”

“And so the miscreants escaped.”

“They did, and thus far no claim to their farther progress has been obtained.”

’Twas pitiful, ’twas mournful to think of that old man sent to his long account with all his imperfections on his head, and
without a moment’s time for shrift or prayer. ’Twas a dreadful thing, I shuddered
with the lone idea
and could have wept, though what better could one so heartless and unfeeling expect? “Since he that sows the wind, must reap
the whirlwind.”

“He leadeth me through the green pastures, and by the still waters.”

D
AVID

There is a hush on my spirit in these days, a deep repose a blest and holy quietude. I found a life of freedom all my fancy
had pictured it to be. I found the friends of the slave in the free state just as good as kind and hospitable as I had always
heard they were. I dwell now in a neat little Cottage, and keep a school for colored children. It is well attended, and I
enjoy myself almost as well
in
imparting knowledge to others, as I did in obtaining it when a child myself. Can you guess
who lives with me? You never could—my own dear mother, aged and venerable, yet so smart and lively and active, and Oh: so
fond of me. There was a hand of Providence in our meeting as we did. I am sure of it. Her history is most affecting and eventful.
During my infancy she was transferred from Lindendale to the owner of a plantation in Mississippi, yet she never forgot me
nor certain marks on my body, by which I might be identified in after years. She found a hard master, but he soon died, and
she became the property of his daughter who dwelt in Maryland, and thither she was removed. Here she became acquainted with
a free mulatto from New Jersey, who persuaded her to escape to his native state with him, where they might be married
and
live in freedom and happiness. She consented. Their plan of escape proved successful, and they lived together very happyly
many years when the husband died.

She said it had been her incessant prayer by day and by night for many long years, that her child left in slavery might be
given to freedom and her arms. She had no means of bringing about this great desire of her heart, but trusted all to the power
and mercy of heaven. So strong was her faith that whenever she beheld a stranger she half-expected to behold her child. We
met accidentally, where or how it matters not. I thought it strange, but my heart yearned towards her with a deep intense
feeling it had never known before. And when we became better acquainted, and fonder of each other’s society, and interested
in each other’s history, I was not half so surprised as pleased and overwhelmed with emotions for which I could find no name,
when she suddenly rose one day, came to me, clasped me in her arms, and sobbed out in rapturous joy “child, I am your mother.”
And then I—but I cannot tell what I did, I was nearly crazy with delight. I was then resting for the first time on my mother’s
bosom—my mother for whom my heart had yearned, and my spirit gone out in intense longing many, many times. And we had been
brought together by such strange and devious ways. With our arms clasped around each other, our heads bowed together, and
our tears mingling we went down on our knees, and returned thanks to Him, who had watched over us for good, and whose merciful
power we recognised in this the greatest blessing of our lives.

I have yet another companion quite as dear—a fond and affectionate husband. He sits by my side even as I write and sometimes,
shakes his head, and sometimes laughs saying “there, there my dear. I fear you grow prosy, you cannot expect the public to
take the same interest in me that you do” when I answer “of course not, I should be jealous if it did.” He is, and has always
been a free man,
is a regularly ordained preacher of the Methodist persuasion, and I believe and hope that many through his
means, under Providence, have been led into wisdom’s ways, which are those of pleasantness.

I must not omit telling who are my neighbors. You could scarcely believe it, it seems so singular, yet is none the less true.
Charlotte, Mrs Henry’s favorite, and her husband. From the window where I sit, a tiny white cottage half-shaded in summer
by rose-vines and honeysuckle appears at the foot of a sloping green.
Before it is now
In front there is such an exquisite flower-garden, and behind such a dainty orchard of choice fruits that it does one good
to think of it. It is theirs. He has learned the carpenter’s trade, and gets plenty of work, while she takes in sewing. Need
I describe the little church where we all go to meeting, and the happiness we experience in listening to the words of Gospel
truth; and as I could not, if I tried, sufficiently set forth the goodness of those about me, the tenderness and love with
which my children of the school regard me, and the undeviating happiness I find in the society of my mother, my husband, and
my friends. I will let the reader picture it all to his imagination and say farewell.

Preface

Crafts prefaces her novel with a traditional apologia, modestly questioning the very possibility of successfully achieving
her goal of “portraying any of the peculiar features of that institution whose curse rests over the fairest land the sun shines
upon,” because her background as a slave is “a sphere so humble.” Slavery, well before the 1850s, was commonly referred to
as “the peculiar institution,” a phrase that she echoes here. Her rhetorical strategy claims that slavery “blights the happiness
of the white as well as the black race,” southerners as well as northerners. This argument was common among authors of slave
narratives, such as Frederick Douglass, whose bestselling slave narrative was published in 1845, and abolitionist novelists,
such as Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
was published in 1852.