Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl
Harriet Jacobs
{1861|
Harriet Jacobs was a girl born into slavery. By unusual circumstances, she was born under a very kind mistress and led a life relatively free of hard labor or uncommon struggles. She was taught to read and write and was dismissed for play when she tired of her work. But, as she says, “Those were happy days – too happy to last,” and after her mistress died, she was willed to a young girl of only five years old, and placed under the care of Dr. Flint. He proved to be an uncommonly cruel and depraved master and tortured her in many ways. Harriet escaped from Dr. Flint, but instead of escaping to the North, an endeavor that for her surely would have ended in capture, she remained in the neighborhood and hid in the small “garret” above her free Grandmother’s house. In this prison, she had no room to even sit up. She spent seven long years locked away in hiding before she was finally able to escape to the North where she attempted to redeem her children from slavery.
This is not a novel. It is not fiction. It was written by a real woman who suffered as a slave. Harriet’s main point throughout the narrative is this: That the evil of slavery is more than being owned by a cruel master. The evil of slavery is not in the cruelty of the treatment, but in the owning of human life itself. The master may be kind, but the slave is still property.
"Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetual bondage only. They have no conception of the depth of degradation involved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease their efforts until so horrible a system was overthrown."
--A WOMAN OF NORTH CAROLINA
--A WOMAN OF NORTH CAROLINA
My mistress was so kind to me that I was always glad to do her bidding, and proud to labor for her as much as my young years would permit. I would sit by her side for hours, sewing diligently, with a heart as free from care as that of any free-born white child. When she thought I was tired, she would send me out to run and jump; and away I bounded, to gather berries or flowers to decorate her room. Those were happy days – too happy to last. The slave child had no thought for the morrow; but there came that blight, which too surely waits on every human being born to be a chattel.
When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears fell upon her grave.
I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block.
After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her memory.
She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend.
When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died. As I saw the cheek grow paler, and the eye more glassy, how earnestly I prayed in my heart that she might live! I loved her; for she had been almost like a mother to me. My prayers were not answered. She died, and they buried her in the little churchyard, where, day after day, my tears fell upon her grave.
I was sent to spend a week with my grandmother. I was now old enough to begin to think of the future; and again and again I asked myself what they would do with me. I felt sure I should never find another mistress so kind as the one who was gone. She had promised my dying mother that her children should never suffer for any thing; and when I remembered that, and recalled her many proofs of attachment to me, I could not help having some hopes that she had left me free. My friends were almost certain it would be so. They thought she would be sure to do it, on account of my mother’s love and faithful service. But, alas! we all know that the memory of a faithful slave does not avail much to save her children from the auction block.
After a brief period of suspense, the will of my mistress was read, and we learned that she had bequeathed me to her sister’s daughter, a child of five years old. So vanished our hopes. My mistress had taught me the precepts of God’s Word: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” “Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.” But I was her slave, and I suppose she did not recognize me as her neighbor. I would give much to blot out from my memory that one great wrong. As a child, I loved my mistress; and, looking back on the happy days I spent with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this act of injustice. While I was with her, she taught me to read and spell; and for this privilege, which so rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I bless her memory.
She possessed but few slaves; and at her death those were all distributed among her relatives. Five of them were my grandmother’s children, and had shared the same milk that nourished her mother’s children. Notwithstanding my grandmother’s long and faithful service to her owners, not one of her children escaped the auction block. These God-breathing machines are no more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend.
Questions for Reflection
1) What does the word “chattel” mean? Look it up in the dictionary.
2) Was there any security for Harriet in the fact that she had a kind mistress? Was there any hope for a better future because of it? Did it do her any good in the end?
3) How is the action of a master or mistress teaching their slaves the principle of “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” hypocritical?
4) Write in your own words the meaning of this phrase: “These God-breathing machines [slaves] are no more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend.”
2) Was there any security for Harriet in the fact that she had a kind mistress? Was there any hope for a better future because of it? Did it do her any good in the end?
3) How is the action of a master or mistress teaching their slaves the principle of “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” hypocritical?
4) Write in your own words the meaning of this phrase: “These God-breathing machines [slaves] are no more, in the sight of their masters, than the cotton they plant, or the horses they tend.”