Still in Prison

When spring returned, and I took in the little patch of green the aperture commanded, I asked myself how many more summers and winters I must be condemned to spend thus. I longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh air, to stretch my cramped limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the earth under my feet again. My relatives were constantly on the lookout for a chance of escape; but none offered that seemed practicable, and even tolerably safe. The hot summer came again, and made the turpentine drop from the thin roof over my head.

When spring returned, I looked at the small patch of green I could see through the opening. I asked myself how many more summers and winters I would be condemned to spend this way. I longed to take a deep breath of fresh air, stretch my cramped limbs, and have room to stand upright. I longed to feel the earth under my feet again. My relatives were always looking for a chance for me to escape. But no opportunity appeared that seemed possible and even reasonably safe. The hot summer came again, making turpentine drip from the thin roof over my head.

During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had no room to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere was so stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it. With all my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment, either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I suffered in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed him to be out in the free air, while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the only means of avoiding the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon me! I don’t know what kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I should die before long; but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, and felt the touch of another winter. In summer the most terrible thunder storms were acceptable, for the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up my bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, storms sometimes wet my clothes through and through, and that was not comfortable when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by filling the chinks with oakum.

During the long nights, I was restless because I lacked air, and I had no room to toss and turn. There was only one consolation. The air was so stifling that even mosquitoes would not bother to buzz in it. Though I hated Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment in this world or the next. Even one summer of the suffering I endured would have been punishment enough. Yet the laws allowed him to be out in the fresh air, while I had committed no crime. I was shut up here because it was the only way to escape the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict on me! I don’t know what kept me alive. Again and again, I thought I would soon die. But I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, and I felt the touch of another winter. In summer, even the most terrible thunderstorms were welcome. Rain came through the roof, so I rolled up my bed to let the rain cool the hot boards underneath. Later in the season, storms sometimes soaked my clothes through and through. That was uncomfortable when the air grew chilly. I could keep out moderate storms by filling the cracks with oakum.

But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out of doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day I saw a slave pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he will.” My grandmother told me that woman’s history. Her mistress had that day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments of its fair face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the bondwoman and her child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The slave went to her master, and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her baby were sold to a Georgia trader.

Although my situation was uncomfortable, I caught glimpses of what was happening outside. They made me thankful for my miserable hiding place. One day I saw an enslaved woman pass our gate, muttering, “It’s his own, and he can kill it if he wants to.” My grandmother told me the woman’s story. That day, the woman’s mistress had seen her baby for the first time. She saw that the baby’s fair face looked like her husband’s. The mistress threw the enslaved woman and her child out and forbade her ever to return. The woman went to her master and told him what had happened. He promised to talk with her mistress and make everything right. The next day, she and her baby were sold to a Georgia trader.

Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She was a slave, the wet nurse of her mistress’s children. For some trifling offence her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the degradation and the torture, she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended her wrongs in death.

Another time, I saw a woman rush past in a panic, chased by two men. She was enslaved and nursed her mistress’s children. For some minor offense, her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape the humiliation and torture, she ran to the river and jumped in, ending her suffering in death.

Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such facts as these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State. Yet he stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that slavery was “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the master, and a blessing to the slave!”

Senator Brown of Mississippi could not have been unaware of many such facts. They were common in every Southern State. Yet he stood before the United States Congress and declared slavery “a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing to the master, and a blessing to the slave!”

I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the first. My limbs were benumbed by inaction, and the cold filled them with cramp. I had a very painful sensation of coldness in my head; even my face and tongue stiffened, and I lost the power of speech. Of course it was impossible, under the circumstances, to summon any physician. My brother William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept up and down to inquire whether there were any signs of returning life. I was restored to consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face, and found myself leaning against my brother’s arm, while he bent over me with streaming eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for I had been in an unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious, and was in great danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent this, they stupefied me with drugs. I remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. How to get medical advice was the question. William finally went to a Thompsonian doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and aches. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and even to love it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who would forgive my sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it seemed to me there was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I asked why the curse of slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had been so persecuted and wronged from youth upward. These things took the shape of mystery, which is to this day not so clear to my soul as I trust it will be hereafter.

I suffered much more during the second winter than during the first. My limbs were numb from lack of movement, and the cold made them cramp. My head felt painfully cold. Even my face and tongue became stiff, and I lost the power to speak. Of course, under the circumstances, it was impossible to call a doctor. My brother William came and did all he could for me. Uncle Phillip also watched over me tenderly. Poor grandmother crept up and down to ask whether there were any signs of life returning. I regained consciousness when they splashed cold water on my face. I found myself leaning against my brother’s arm as he bent over me, tears streaming down his face. He later told me he had thought I was dying, because I had been unconscious for sixteen hours. Then I became delirious, and there was a great danger that I would give myself and my friends away. To prevent that, they gave me drugs that left me dazed. I stayed in bed for six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. The question was how to get medical advice. William finally went to a Thompsonian doctor and described all my pains and aches as his own. He returned with herbs, roots, and ointment. The doctor had especially told him to rub on the ointment by a fire. But how could we make a fire in my little den? We tried burning charcoal in a furnace, but there was no way for the gas to escape. It nearly cost me my life. Afterwards, they brought up already lit coals in an iron pan and placed the pan on bricks. I was so weak, and it had been so long since I had enjoyed a fire’s warmth. Those few coals actually made me weep. I think the medicines did me some good, but my recovery was very slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day. I tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was. I even tried to love it as part of the price I had paid to free my children. Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father who would forgive my sins because of my suffering. At other times, it seemed to me that there was no justice or mercy in God’s rule. I asked why the curse of slavery was allowed to exist. I also asked why I had been so persecuted and wronged since my youth. These questions became a mystery that remains unclear to my soul to this day. I trust it will become clearer in the life to come.

In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight of anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had. O, how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that I could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over me!

While I was ill, grandmother broke down under the strain of worry and hard work. She had always been my best friend and a mother to my children. The thought of losing her was the hardest trial I had faced yet. Oh, how earnestly I prayed that she would recover! It seemed so hard that I could not care for her, when she had watched over me so tenderly for so long!

One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to my peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I heard the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed up. O, what torture to a mother’s heart, to listen to this and be unable to go to him!

One day, a child’s screams gave me the strength to crawl to my peephole. I saw my son covered in blood. A fierce dog, usually kept chained, had grabbed and bitten him. Someone sent for a doctor. I heard my child groan and scream as the doctor stitched his wounds. Oh, what torture for a mother to hear her child suffer and be unable to go to him!

But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine. Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from his wounds; but it was long before he could walk.

But childhood is like a spring day, with rain and sunshine taking turns. Before nightfall, Benny was cheerful and lively, threatening to kill the dog. The next day, the doctor told him the dog had bitten another boy and had been shot. Benny was delighted. He recovered from his wounds, but it was a long time before he could walk.

When my grandmother’s illness became known, many ladies, who were her customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked permission to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t see any need of your going. I can’t spare you.” But when she found other ladies in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in Christian charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent condescension, and stood by the bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who had been repaid by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, and scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent for him immediately, and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should have been terrified if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my grandmother in a very critical situation, and said if her attending physician wished it, he would visit her. Nobody wished to have him coming to the house at all hours, and we were not disposed to give him a chance to make out a long bill.

When my grandmother’s illness became known, many of her customers came to bring her small comforts. They also asked whether she had everything she needed. One night, Aunt Nancy asked permission to stay with her sick mother. Mrs. Flint replied, “I don’t see any need for you to go. I can’t spare you.” But Mrs. Flint saw how attentive the other ladies in the neighborhood were. Not wanting to be outdone in Christian charity, she too set out, with magnificent condescension. She stood by the bedside of the woman who had loved her as a baby and had been repaid with such grievous wrongs. Mrs. Flint seemed surprised to find my grandmother so ill. She scolded uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She sent for him immediately, and he came. Safe as I was in my hiding place, I would have been terrified if I had known how near he was. He said my grandmother was in a very critical condition. He also said he would visit her if her attending physician wished. Nobody wanted him coming to the house at all hours. We were not inclined to give him a chance to run up a long bill.

As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame was, that a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad of it,” replied she. “I wish he had killed him. It would be good news to send to his mother. Her day will come. The dogs will grab her yet.” With these Christian words she and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more.

As Mrs. Flint was leaving, Sally told her that Benny was limping because a dog had bitten him. “I’m glad,” she replied. “I wish the dog had killed him. That would be good news to send to his mother. Her day will come. The dogs will grab her yet.” With these Christian words, she and her husband left. To my great satisfaction, they never returned.

I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of feeling that I caused her death.”

Uncle Phillip told me that the crisis had passed and grandmother would live. I felt a joy and gratitude beyond words. I could now say from my heart, “God is merciful. He has spared me the pain of feeling that I caused her death.”