Autobiography of a Female SlaveBrowne, Martha Griffith
History
Autobiography of a Female Slave
Browne, Martha Griffith
African American women -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Enslaved women -- Fiction; Kentucky -- Fiction; Slavery -- Fiction
Several weeks had elapsed since Miss Jane's announcement that I was to
be sold, and I had heard no more of it. I dared not renew the subject to
her, no matter from what motive, for she would have construed it as
impudence. But my time was now passing in comparative pleasure, for Miss
Jane was wholly engrossed by fun, frolic, and dissipation. Her mornings
were spent in making or receiving fashionable calls, and her afternoons
were devoted to sleep, whilst the night-time was given up entirely to
theatres, parties, concerts, and such amusements. Consequently my
situation, as servant, became pretty much that of a sinecure. Oh, what
delightful hours I passed in Louise's room, reading! I devoured
everything in the shape of a book that fell into my hands. I began to
improve astonishingly in my studies. It seemed that knowledge came to me
by magic. I was surprised at the rapidity of my own advancement. In the
afternoons, Henry had a good deal of leisure, and he used to steal round
to Louise's room, and sit with us upon a little balcony that fronted it,
and looked out upon a beautiful view. There lay the placid Ohio, and
just beyond it ran the blessed Indiana shore! "Why was I not born on
that side of the river?" I used to say to Henry, as I pointed across the
water. "Or why," he would answer, as his dark eye grew intensely black,
"were our ancestors ever stolen from Africa?"
"These are questions," said the more philosophical Louise, "that we must
not propose. They destroy the little happiness we already enjoy."
"Yes, you can afford to talk thus, Louise, for you are free; but we,
poor slaves, know slavery from actual experience and endurance," said
Henry.
"I have had my experience too," she answered, "and a dark one has it
been."
The evening on which this conversation occurred, was unusually fair and
calm. I shall ever remember it. There we three sat, with mournful
memories working in our breasts; there each looking at the other,
murmuring secretly, "Mine is the heaviest trouble!"
"Louise," I said, "tell us how you broke the chains of bondage."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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