Accommodations

Among Isabella's earliest recollections was the removal of her master, Charles Ardinburgh, into his new house, which he had built for a hotel, soon after the decease of his father. A cellar, under this hotel, was assigned to his slaves, as their sleeping apartment,-all the slaves he possessed, of both sexes, sleeping (as is quite common in a state of slavery) in the same room. She carries in her mind, to this day, a vivid picture of this dismal chamber; its only lights consisting of a few panes of glass, through which she thinks the sun never shone, but with thrice reflected rays; and the space between the loose boards of the floor, and the uneven earth below, was often filled with mud and water, the uncomfortable splashings of which were as annoying as its noxious vapors must have been chilling and fatal to health. She shudders, even now, as she goes back in memory, and revisits this cellar, and sees its inmates, of both sexes and all ages, sleeping on those damp boards, like the horse, with a little straw and a blanket; and she wonders not at the rheumatisms, and fever-sores, and palsies, that distorted the limbs and racked the bodies of those fellow-slaves in after-life. Still, she does not attribute this cruelty-for cruelty it certainly is, to be so unmindful of the health and comfort of any being, leaving entirely out of sight his more important part, his everlasting interests,-so much to any innate or constitutional cruelty of the master, as to that gigantic inconsistency, that inherited habit among slaveholders, of expecting a willing and intelligent obedience from the slave, because he is a MAN-at the same time every thing belonging to the soul-harrowing system does its best to crush the last vestige of a man within him; and when it is crushed, and often before, he is denied the comforts of life, on the plea that he knows neither the want nor the use of them, and because he is considered to be little more or little less than a beast.

One of Isabella's earliest memories was of her master, Charles Ardinburgh, moving into his new house. He had built it as a hotel soon after his father's death. He assigned a cellar beneath the hotel as a sleeping room for his slaves. All his slaves, both men and women, slept in the same room, as was common under slavery. To this day, she vividly remembers that dismal room. Its only light came through a few panes of glass. She thinks the sun's rays reached them only after being reflected three times. The space between the loose floorboards and the uneven earth beneath them was often filled with mud and water. The unpleasant splashing was annoying, and the harmful fumes must have been chilling and damaging to health. Even now, she shudders when she remembers the cellar and the people who slept there. They were men and women of all ages, sleeping on the damp boards like horses, with a little straw and a blanket. She is not surprised that rheumatism, fever sores, and paralysis later twisted their limbs and tormented their bodies. Still, she does not blame this cruelty mainly on any natural cruelty in the master's character. It was certainly cruel to give so little thought to any being's health and comfort. That is true even without considering the more important part of that being, the soul and its eternal interests. Instead, she blames a huge contradiction, a habit slaveholders inherited. They expect willing and intelligent obedience from the slave because he is a MAN. At the same time, everything about the soul-tormenting system does its best to crush the last trace of a man within him. Once that trace is crushed, and often before, he is denied the comforts of life. The excuse is that he neither needs nor knows how to use them, and that he is little more or little less than a beast.