A New Connection to Life

I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She had an interview with Mr. Sands. When she asked him why he could not have left her one ewe lamb,—whether there were not plenty of slaves who did not care about character,—he made no answer; but he spoke kind and encouraging words. He promised to care for my child, and to buy me, be the conditions what they might.

I returned to my good grandmother’s house. She spoke with Mr. Sands. She asked why he could not have left her one ewe lamb. Were there not plenty of enslaved women who did not care about their reputation? He gave no answer, but he spoke kindly and offered encouragement. He promised to care for my child and to buy me, no matter what the conditions were.

I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had never seen him since I made the avowal to him. He talked of the disgrace I had brought on myself; how I had sinned against my master, and mortified my old grandmother. He intimated that if I had accepted his proposals, he, as a physician, could have saved me from exposure. He even condescended to pity me. Could he have offered wormwood more bitter? He, whose persecutions had been the cause of my sin!

I had not seen Dr. Flint for five days. I had not seen him since I confessed to him. He talked about the shame I had brought on myself. He said I had sinned against my master and humiliated my old grandmother. He hinted that if I had accepted his proposals, he could have used his medical skills to hide my condition. He even lowered himself to pity me. Could he have offered me anything more bitter than wormwood? He was the one whose persecution had caused my sin!

“Linda,” said he, “though you have been criminal towards me, I feel for you, and I can pardon you if you obey my wishes. Tell me whether the fellow you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you deceive me, you shall feel the fires of hell.”

“Linda,” he said, “though you have wronged me, I feel for you. I can forgive you if you do as I wish. Tell me whether the man you wanted to marry is the father of your child. If you lie to me, you will feel the fires of hell.”

I did not feel as proud as I had done. My strongest weapon with him was gone. I was lowered in my own estimation, and had resolved to bear his abuse in silence. But when he spoke contemptuously of the lover who had always treated me honorably; when I remembered that but for him I might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife, I lost my patience. “I have sinned against God and myself,” I replied; “but not against you.”

I no longer felt as proud as I once had. My strongest weapon against him was gone. I thought less of myself and had decided to bear his abuse in silence. But then he spoke with contempt about my lover, who had always treated me honorably. I remembered that if not for him, I might have been a virtuous, free, and happy wife. I lost my patience. “I have sinned against God and myself,” I replied, “but not against you.”

He clinched his teeth, and muttered, “Curse you!” He came towards me, with ill-suppressed rage, and exclaimed, “You obstinate girl! I could grind your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless rascal. You are weak-minded, and have been easily persuaded by those who don’t care a straw for you. The future will settle accounts between us. You are blinded now; but hereafter you will be convinced that your master was your best friend. My lenity towards you is a proof of it. I might have punished you in many ways. I might have had you whipped till you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to live; I would have bettered your condition. Others cannot do it. You are my slave. Your mistress, disgusted by your conduct, forbids you to return to the house; therefore I leave you here for the present; but I shall see you often. I will call to-morrow.”

He clenched his teeth and muttered, “Curse you!” He came toward me, barely holding back his rage. “You stubborn girl!” he exclaimed. “I could grind your bones to powder! You have thrown yourself away on some worthless scoundrel. You are weak-minded and easily persuaded by people who don’t care at all about you. The future will settle things between us. You are blind to the truth now. But someday you will see that your master was your best friend. My mercy toward you proves it. I could have punished you in many ways. I could have had you whipped until you fell dead under the lash. But I wanted you to live. I would have made your life better. Others cannot do that. You are my slave. Your mistress is disgusted by your behavior and forbids you to return to the house. So I am leaving you here for now, but I will see you often. I will come tomorrow.”

He came with frowning brows, that showed a dissatisfied state of mind. After asking about my health, he inquired whether my board was paid, and who visited me. He then went on to say that he had neglected his duty; that as a physician there were certain things that he ought to have explained to me. Then followed talk such as would have made the most shameless blush. He ordered me to stand up before him. I obeyed. “I command you,” said he, “to tell me whether the father of your child is white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I did answer. He sprang upon me like a wolf, and grabbed my arm as if he would have broken it. “Do you love him?” said he, in a hissing tone.

He came in frowning, clearly displeased. After asking about my health, he asked whether my room and board had been paid for and who visited me. He then said that he had neglected his duty. As a doctor, he said, there were certain things he should have explained to me. He then said things that would have made even the most shameless person blush. He ordered me to stand before him. I obeyed. “I command you,” he said, “to tell me whether the father of your child is white or black.” I hesitated. “Answer me this instant!” he exclaimed. I answered. He sprang at me like a wolf and grabbed my arm as if he meant to break it. “Do you love him?” he asked in a hissing voice.

“I am thankful that I do not despise him,” I replied.

“I’m thankful that I don’t hate him,” I replied.

He raised his hand to strike me; but it fell again. I don’t know what arrested the blow. He sat down, with lips tightly compressed. At last he spoke. “I came here,” said he, “to make you a friendly proposition; but your ingratitude chafes me beyond endurance. You turn aside all my good intentions towards you. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from killing you.” Again he rose, as if he had a mind to strike me.

He raised his hand to strike me, but let it fall again. I don’t know what stopped the blow. He sat down, his lips pressed tightly together. At last he spoke. “I came here,” he said, “to make you a friendly offer. But your ingratitude irritates me beyond what I can bear. You reject all my good intentions toward you. I don’t know what keeps me from killing you.” Again he stood up, as if he intended to strike me.

But he resumed. “On one condition I will forgive your insolence and crime. You must henceforth have no communication of any kind with the father of your child. You must not ask any thing from him, or receive any thing from him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this at once, and not wait till you are deserted by him. This is the last act of mercy I shall show towards you.”

But he continued. “I will forgive your disrespect and your crime on one condition. From now on, you must have no contact of any kind with your child’s father. You must not ask him for anything or accept anything from him. I will take care of you and your child. You had better promise this now, rather than wait until he abandons you. This is the last act of mercy I will show you.”

I said something about being unwilling to have my child supported by a man who had cursed it and me also. He rejoined, that a woman who had sunk to my level had no right to expect any thing else. He asked, for the last time, would I accept his kindness? I answered that I would not.

I said I was unwilling to let my child be supported by a man who had cursed us both. He replied that a woman who had sunk to my level had no right to expect anything else. He asked one last time if I would accept his kindness. I answered that I would not.

“Very well,” said he; “then take the consequences of your wayward course. Never look to me for help. You are my slave, and shall always be my slave. I will never sell you, that you may depend upon.”

“All right,” he said. “Then face the consequences of your stubborn behavior. Never expect me to help you. You are my slave, and you will always be my slave. I will never sell you. You can count on that.”

Hope died away in my heart as he closed the door after him. I had calculated that in his rage he would sell me to a slave-trader; and I knew the father of my child was on the watch to buy me.

Hope died in my heart as he closed the door behind him. I had expected him to sell me to a slave trader in his rage. And I knew the father of my child was waiting for a chance to buy me.

About this time my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The day before his departure I had officiated as bridesmaid to a young friend. My heart was then ill at ease, but my smiling countenance did not betray it. Only a year had passed; but what fearful changes it had wrought! My heart had grown gray in misery. Lives that flash in sunshine, and lives that are born in tears, receive their hue from circumstances. None of us know what a year may bring forth.

Around this time, my uncle Phillip was expected to return from a voyage. The day before he left, I had been a bridesmaid for a young friend. My heart was uneasy then, but my smiling face did not show it. Only a year had passed, but what terrible changes it had brought! My heart had grown gray with misery. Lives that shine in the sunshine and lives that begin in tears are shaped by circumstances. None of us knows what a year may bring.

I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, though he knew what had happened. I shrank from him at first; but at last consented that he should come to my room. He received me as he always had done. O, how my heart smote me when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! The words of my grandmother came to my mind,—“Perhaps your mother and father are taken from the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart could now praise God that it was so. But why, thought I, did my relatives ever cherish hopes for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of slave girls? Many more beautiful and more intelligent than I had experienced a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could they hope that I should escape?

I felt no joy when they told me my uncle had come. He wanted to see me, though he knew what had happened. At first, I shrank from him. But finally, I agreed to let him come to my room. He greeted me as he always had. Oh, how guilty I felt when I felt his tears on my burning cheeks! My grandmother’s words came to mind: “Perhaps your mother and father were taken away before the evil days to come.” My disappointed heart could now praise God that they had been. But why, I wondered, had my relatives ever held out hope for me? What was there to save me from the usual fate of slave girls? Many who were more beautiful and intelligent than I had suffered a similar fate, or a far worse one. How could my relatives hope that I would escape?

My uncle’s stay was short, and I was not sorry for it. I was too ill in mind and body to enjoy my friends as I had done. For some weeks I was unable to leave my bed. I could not have any doctor but my master, and I would not have him sent for. At last, alarmed by my increasing illness, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous; and as soon as he entered the room, I began to scream. They told him my state was very critical. He had no wish to hasten me out of the world, and he withdrew.

My uncle’s visit was short, and I was glad. I was too sick in mind and body to enjoy my friends as I once had. For several weeks, I could not leave my bed. The only doctor I could have was my master, and I refused to have him called. At last, alarmed that I was getting sicker, they sent for him. I was very weak and nervous, and as soon as he entered the room, I began to scream. They told him I was in critical condition. He did not want to hasten my death, so he left.

When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four pounds; but God let it live. I heard the doctor say I could not survive till morning. I had often prayed for death; but now I did not want to die, unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I was able to leave my bed. I was a mere wreck of my former self. For a year there was scarcely a day when I was free from chills and fever. My babe also was sickly. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued his visits, to look after my health; and he did not fail to remind me that my child was an addition to his stock of slaves.

When my baby was born, they said he was premature. He weighed only four pounds, but God let him live. I heard the doctor say I would not survive until morning. I had often prayed for death. But now I did not want to die unless my child could die too. Many weeks passed before I could leave my bed. I was a mere shadow of my former self. For a year, hardly a day passed when I was free from chills and fever. My baby was sickly too. His little limbs were often racked with pain. Dr. Flint continued to visit and check on my health. He never failed to remind me that my child was another addition to his stock of slaves.

I felt too feeble to dispute with him, and listened to his remarks in silence. His visits were less frequent; but his busy spirit could not remain quiet. He employed my brother in his office, and he was made the medium of frequent notes and messages to me. William was a bright lad, and of much use to the doctor. He had learned to put up medicines, to leech, cup, and bleed. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my brother; and the old doctor suspected as much. One day, when I had not seen him for several weeks, I heard his steps approaching the door. I dreaded the encounter, and hid myself. He inquired for me, of course; but I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office, and despatched William with a note. The color mounted to my brother’s face when he gave it to me; and he said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him I could not blame him; he was a slave, and obliged to obey his master’s will. The note ordered me to come to his office. I went. He demanded to know where I was when he called. I told him I was at home. He flew into a passion, and said he knew better. Then he launched out upon his usual themes,—my crimes against him, and my ingratitude for his forbearance. The laws were laid down to me anew, and I was dismissed. I felt humiliated that my brother should stand by, and listen to such language as would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me; but I saw the tears, which he vainly strove to keep back. This manifestation of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One morning he did not arrive at the office so early as usual; and that circumstance afforded his master an opportunity to vent his spleen. He was put in jail. The next day my brother sent a trader to the doctor, with a request to be sold. His master was greatly incensed at what he called his insolence. He said he had put him there to reflect upon his bad conduct, and he certainly was not giving any evidence of repentance. For two days he harassed himself to find somebody to do his office work; but every thing went wrong without William. He was released, and ordered to take his old stand, with many threats, if he was not careful about his future behavior.

I felt too weak to argue with him, so I listened to his remarks in silence. His visits became less frequent, but his restless spirit could not stay quiet. He employed my brother in his office and often sent notes and messages to me through him. William was a bright boy and very useful to the doctor. He had learned to prepare medicines and to treat patients with leeches, cupping, and bloodletting. He had taught himself to read and spell. I was proud of my brother, and the old doctor suspected it. One day, after I had not seen the doctor for several weeks, I heard his footsteps approaching the door. I dreaded meeting him, so I hid. Of course, he asked for me, but I was nowhere to be found. He went to his office and sent William with a note. My brother’s face turned red as he gave it to me. He said, “Don’t you hate me, Linda, for bringing you these things?” I told him I could not blame him. He was a slave and had to obey his master’s will. The note ordered me to come to the doctor’s office. I went. He demanded to know where I had been when he called. I told him I had been at home. He flew into a rage and said he knew better. Then he returned to his usual subjects: my crimes against him and my ingratitude for his restraint. He laid down the rules for me again and dismissed me. I felt humiliated that my brother had to stand by and listen. The doctor had used words that would be addressed only to a slave. Poor boy! He was powerless to defend me, but I saw the tears he tried in vain to hold back. This display of feeling irritated the doctor. William could do nothing to please him. One morning, he did not arrive at the office as early as usual. This gave his master a chance to vent his anger. He had William put in jail. The next day, my brother sent a slave trader to the doctor with a request to be sold. His master was furious at what he called his insolence. He said he had put William in jail to reflect on his bad conduct. He also said William was certainly showing no sign of repentance. For two days, the doctor struggled to find someone to do his office work. But everything went wrong without William. He was released and ordered to return to his old position. His master also made many threats if he was not careful about his future behavior.

As the months passed on, my boy improved in health. When he was a year old, they called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my existence, though its clinging fondness excited a mixture of love and pain. When I was most sorely oppressed I found a solace in his smiles. I loved to watch his infant slumbers; but always there was a dark cloud over my enjoyment. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished that he might die in infancy. God tried me. My darling became very ill. The bright eyes grew dull, and the little feet and hands were so icy cold that I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but never so earnestly as I now prayed for his life; and my prayer was heard. Alas, what mockery it is for a slave mother to try to pray back her dying child to life! Death is better than slavery. It was a sad thought that I had no name to give my child. His father caressed him and treated him kindly, whenever he had a chance to see him. He was not unwilling that he should bear his name; but he had no legal claim to it; and if I had bestowed it upon him, my master would have regarded it as a new crime, a new piece of insolence, and would, perhaps, revenge it on the boy. O, the serpent of Slavery has many and poisonous fangs!

As the months passed, my boy’s health improved. When he was a year old, people called him beautiful. The little vine was taking deep root in my life, though his clinging affection stirred both love and pain in me. When I felt most oppressed, his smiles brought me comfort. I loved to watch him sleep, but a dark cloud always hung over my joy. I could never forget that he was a slave. Sometimes I wished he would die as an infant. God tested me. My darling became very ill. His bright eyes grew dull, and his little feet and hands were icy cold. I thought death had already touched them. I had prayed for his death, but now I prayed for his life even more earnestly, and my prayer was answered. Alas, what a mockery it is for an enslaved mother to try to pray her dying child back to life! Death is better than slavery. It saddened me that I had no name to give my child. His father held him lovingly and treated him kindly whenever he had a chance to see him. He was willing to let the boy bear his name, but my child had no legal claim to it. If I had given him his father’s name, my master would have seen it as another crime, another act of defiance. He might have taken revenge on the boy. Oh, the serpent of Slavery has many poisonous fangs!