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
Since the illness of Master, and the departure of Mr. Jones, things had
not gone on with the same precision as before. There was a few minutes
difference in the blowing of the horn; and, for offences like these,
Master had sworn deeply that "every nigger's hide" should be striped, as
soon as he was able to preside at the "post." During his sickness he had
not allowed one of us to enter his room; "for," as he said to the
doctor, "a cussed nigger made him feel worse, he wanted to be up and
beatin' them. They needed the cowhide every breath they drew." And, as
the sapient doctor decided that our presence had an exciting effect upon
him, we were banished from his room. "_Banished!_--what's banished but
set free!"
Now, when I rose from my seat, and bent over the form of Amy, and
watched her as she lay wrapt in a profound sleep, with one arm
encircling little Ben, and the two sisters, Jane and Luce, lying close
to her--so dependent looked the three, as they thus huddled round their
young protectress, so loving and trustful in that deep repose, that I
felt now would be a good time for the angel Death to come--now, before
the fatal fall of the Damoclesian sword, whose hair thread was about to
snap: but no--Death comes not at our bidding; he obeys a higher
appointment. The boy moaned again in his sleep, and Amy's faithful arm
was tightened round him. Closer she drew him to her maternal heart, and
in a low, gurgling, songful voice, lulled him to a sweeter rest. I
turned away from the sight, and, sinking on my knees, offered up a
prayer to Him our common Father. I prayed that strength might be
furnished me to endure the torture which I feared would come with the
labors of the day. I asked, in an especial way, for grace to be given to
the child, Amy. God is merciful! He moves in a mysterious manner. All
power comes direct from Him; and, oh, did I not feel that this young
creature had need of grace to bear the burden that others were preparing
for her!
My business was to clean the house and set to rights the young ladies'
apartment, and then assist Lindy in the breakfast-room; but I dared not
venture in the ladies' chamber until half-past six o'clock, as the
slightest foot-fall would arouse Miss Jane, who, I think, was too
nervous to sleep. Thus I was left some little time to myself; and these
few moments I generally devoted to reading some simple story-book or
chapters in the New Testament. Of course, the mighty mysteries of the
sacred volume were but imperfectly appreciated by me. I read the book
more as a duty than a pleasure; but this morning I could not read.
Christ's beautiful parable of the Ten Virgins, which has such a wondrous
significance even to the most childish mind, failed to impart interest,
and the blessed page fell from my hands unread.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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