The Old Enemy Again

My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letter requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received a reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In order rightly to enjoy the contents of this letter, the reader must bear in mind that the Flint family supposed I had been at the north many years. They had no idea that I knew of the doctor’s three excursions to New York in search of me; that I had heard his voice, when he came to borrow five hundred dollars for that purpose; and that I had seen him pass on his way to the steamboat. Neither were they aware that all the particulars of aunt Nancy’s death and burial were conveyed to me at the time they occurred. I have kept the letter, of which I herewith subjoin a copy:—

My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not answer my letter asking her to agree to my being sold. But after a while, I received a reply that claimed to be written by her younger brother. To fully appreciate this letter, the reader must remember that the Flint family believed I had been in the North for many years. They had no idea I knew about the doctor’s three trips to New York to look for me. They did not know I had heard his voice when he came to borrow five hundred dollars for that purpose. Nor did they know I had seen him pass by on his way to the steamboat. They also did not know that all the details of aunt Nancy’s death and burial had reached me at the time. I kept the letter, and I include a copy here:

“Your letter to sister was received a few days ago. I gather from it that you are desirous of returning to your native place, among your friends and relatives. We were all gratified with the contents of your letter; and let me assure you that if any members of the family have had any feeling of resentment towards you, they feel it no longer. We all sympathize with you in your unfortunate condition, and are ready to do all in our power to make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return home as a free person. If you were purchased by your grandmother, it is doubtful whether you would be permitted to remain, although it would be lawful for you to do so. If a servant should be allowed to purchase herself, after absenting herself so long from her owners, and return free, it would have an injurious effect. From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and uncomfortable. Come home. You have it in your power to be reinstated in our affections. We would receive you with open arms and tears of joy. You need not apprehend any unkind treatment, as we have not put ourselves to any trouble or expense to get you. Had we done so, perhaps we should feel otherwise. You know my sister was always attached to you, and that you were never treated as a slave. You were never put to hard work, nor exposed to field labor. On the contrary, you were taken into the house, and treated as one of us, and almost as free; and we, at least, felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. Believing you may be induced to come home voluntarily has induced me to write for my sister. The family will be rejoiced to see you; and your poor old grandmother expressed a great desire to have you come, when she heard your letter read. In her old age she needs the consolation of having her children round her. Doubtless you have heard of the death of your aunt. She was a faithful servant, and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. In her Christian life she taught us how to live—and, O, too high the price of knowledge, she taught us how to die! Could you have seen us round her death bed, with her mother, all mingling our tears in one common stream, you would have thought the same heartfelt tie existed between a master and his servant, as between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful to dwell upon. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are contented to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, stay where you are. We shall never trouble ourselves to apprehend you. But should you prefer to come home, we will do all that we can to make you happy. If you do not wish to remain in the family, I know that father, by our persuasion, will be induced to let you be purchased by any person you may choose in our community. You will please answer this as soon as possible, and let us know your decision. Sister sends much love to you. In the mean time believe me your sincere friend and well wisher.”

“Your letter to sister arrived a few days ago. I gather that you want to return to your native place, among your friends and relatives. We were all pleased by your letter. Let me assure you that any family members who resented you no longer feel that way. We all sympathize with you in your unfortunate situation. We are ready to do everything we can to make you contented and happy. It is difficult for you to return home as a free person. If your grandmother bought you, it is doubtful that you would be allowed to stay, though it would be legal. It would have a harmful effect if a servant were allowed to buy herself after staying away from her owners so long and then return free. From your letter, I think your situation must be hard and uncomfortable. Come home. You can regain our affection. We would welcome you with open arms and tears of joy. You need not fear unkind treatment, since we have taken no trouble or spent any money to get you back. If we had, perhaps we would feel differently. You know my sister was always fond of you, and that you were never treated as a slave. You were never made to do hard work or sent to work in the fields. Instead, you were taken into the house and treated as one of us, almost as if you were free. And we, at least, felt that you were above disgracing yourself by running away. I have written for my sister because I believe you may be persuaded to come home of your own free will. The family will be delighted to see you. Your poor old grandmother also expressed a great desire for you to come when she heard your letter read. In her old age, she needs the comfort of having her children around her. No doubt you have heard of your aunt’s death. She was a faithful servant and a faithful member of the Episcopal church. Through her Christian life, she taught us how to live. And, oh, at too high a price for such knowledge, she taught us how to die! You could have seen us and her mother gathered around her deathbed, all mingling our tears in one common stream. Then you would have thought the same heartfelt bond existed between a master and his servant as between a mother and her child. But this subject is too painful to dwell on. I must bring my letter to a close. If you are content to stay away from your old grandmother, your child, and the friends who love you, stay where you are. We will never take the trouble to catch you. But if you would rather come home, we will do everything we can to make you happy. If you do not wish to remain in the family, I know we can persuade father to let anyone you choose in our community buy you. Please answer as soon as possible and let us know your decision. Sister sends you much love. In the meantime, believe me to be your sincere friend and well-wisher.”

This letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was as yet a mere lad. I knew, by the style, that it was not written by a person of his age, and though the writing was disguised, I had been made too unhappy by it, in former years, not to recognize at once the hand of Dr. Flint. O, the hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox suppose I was goose enough to go into such a trap? Verily, he relied too much on “the stupidity of the African race.” I did not return the family of Flints any thanks for their cordial invitation—a remissness for which I was, no doubt, charged with base ingratitude.

The letter was signed by Emily’s brother, who was still just a boy. From the style, I knew someone older had written it. The handwriting was disguised, but it had made me too unhappy in earlier years for me not to recognize it at once. It was Dr. Flint’s handwriting. Oh, the hypocrisy of slaveholders! Did the old fox think I was foolish enough to walk into such a trap? He certainly relied too much on “the stupidity of the African race.” I did not thank the Flint family for their warm invitation. No doubt they accused me of shameful ingratitude for that omission.

Not long afterwards I received a letter from one of my friends at the south, informing me that Dr. Flint was about to visit the north. The letter had been delayed, and I supposed he might be already on the way. Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called me to Boston, where my brother then was, and asked permission to bring a friend to supply my place as nurse, for a fortnight. I started on my journey immediately; and as soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother that if Benny came, he must be sent to Boston. I knew she was only waiting for a good chance to send him north, and, fortunately, she had the legal power to do so, without asking leave of any body. She was a free woman; and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of sale drawn up in her name. It was conjectured that he advanced the money, but it was not known. At the south, a gentleman may have a shoal of colored children without any disgrace; but if he is known to purchase them, with the view of setting them free, the example is thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution,” and he becomes unpopular.

Not long afterward, I received a letter from a friend in the South. It said that Dr. Flint was about to visit the North. The letter had been delayed, so I thought he might already be on his way. Mrs. Bruce did not know I was a fugitive. I told her that important business called me to Boston, where my brother was then living. I asked permission to bring a friend to take my place as nurse for two weeks. I left immediately. As soon as I arrived, I wrote to my grandmother and asked her to send Benny to Boston if he came. I knew she was only waiting for a good chance to send him north. Fortunately, she had the legal power to do so without asking anyone’s permission. She was a free woman, and when my children were purchased, Mr. Sands preferred to have the bill of sale made out in her name. People guessed that he had provided the money, but they did not know. In the South, a gentleman may have a great many children of color without any disgrace. But if he is known to purchase them with the intention of setting them free, he becomes unpopular. His example is thought to be dangerous to their “peculiar institution.”

There was a good opportunity to send Benny in a vessel coming directly to New York. He was put on board with a letter to a friend, who was requested to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud rap at my door, and in rushed Benjamin, all out of breath. “O mother!” he exclaimed, “here I am! I run all the way; and I come all alone. How d’you do?”

There was a good opportunity to send Benny on a ship traveling directly to New York. He boarded with a letter for a friend, asking the friend to see him off to Boston. Early one morning, there was a loud knock at my door. Benjamin rushed in, out of breath. “Oh, mother!” he exclaimed, “here I am! I ran all the way, and I came all alone. How are you?”

O reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a slave mother. Benjamin rattled away as fast as his tongue could go. “Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went over to Brooklyn to see her, and she felt very bad when I bid her good by. She said, ‘O Ben, I wish I was going too.’ I thought she’d know ever so much; but she don’t know so much as I do; for I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost all my clothes coming. What can I do to get some more? I ’spose free boys can get along here at the north as well as white boys.”

Reader, can you imagine my joy? No, you cannot, unless you have been a mother in slavery. Benjamin talked as fast as he could. “Mother, why don’t you bring Ellen here? I went to Brooklyn to see her, and she felt very sad when I said goodbye. She said, ‘Oh Ben, I wish I were going too.’ I thought she would know so much, but she doesn’t know as much as I do. I can read, and she can’t. And, mother, I lost all my clothes on the way here. What can I do to get more? I suppose free boys can get along here in the North as well as white boys.”

I did not like to tell the sanguine, happy little fellow how much he was mistaken. I took him to a tailor, and procured a change of clothes. The rest of the day was spent in mutual asking and answering of questions, with the wish constantly repeated that the good old grandmother was with us, and frequent injunctions from Benny to write to her immediately, and be sure to tell her every thing about his voyage, and his journey to Boston.

I did not like to tell the hopeful, happy little fellow how mistaken he was. I took him to a tailor and got him a change of clothes. We spent the rest of the day asking and answering each other's questions. We kept saying that we wished our good old grandmother were with us. Benny often urged me to write to her immediately. He wanted me to be sure to tell her everything about his voyage and his journey to Boston.

Dr. Flint made his visit to New York, and made every exertion to call upon me, and invite me to return with him; but not being able to ascertain where I was, his hospitable intentions were frustrated, and the affectionate family, who were waiting for me with “open arms,” were doomed to disappointment.

Dr. Flint visited New York and tried every way he could to see me and invite me back with him. But he could not find out where I was, so his hospitable plans were frustrated. The affectionate family waiting for me with “open arms” was doomed to disappointment.

As soon as I knew he was safely at home, I placed Benjamin in the care of my brother William, and returned to Mrs. Bruce. There I remained through the winter and spring, endeavoring to perform my duties faithfully, and finding a good degree of happiness in the attractions of baby Mary, the considerate kindness of her excellent mother, and occasional interviews with my darling daughter.

As soon as I knew he was safely home, I left Benjamin in my brother William's care and returned to Mrs. Bruce. I stayed there through the winter and spring, trying to perform my duties faithfully. I found a good deal of happiness in baby Mary's charm, her wonderful mother's thoughtful kindness, and occasional visits with my darling daughter.

But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me. It was necessary for me to take little Mary out daily, for exercise and fresh air, and the city was swarming with Southerners, some of whom might recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one class of the venomous creatures as little as I do the other. What a comfort it is, to be free to say so!

But when summer came, the old feeling of insecurity haunted me again. I had to take little Mary out every day for exercise and fresh air. But the city was full of Southerners, and some of them might recognize me. Hot weather brings out snakes and slaveholders, and I like one kind of venomous creature as little as the other. What a comfort to be free to say so!