Linda Brent - Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl: Seven Years Concealed

"Northerners know nothing at all about Slavery. They think it is perpetualbondage only. They have no conception of the depth of degradationinvolved in that word, SLAVERY; if they had, they would never cease theirefforts until so horrible a system was overthrown."

A Woman Of North Carolina.

"Rise up, ye women that are at ease! Hear my voice, ye careless daughters!Give ear unto my speech."

Isaiah xxxii. 9.

Reader be assured this narrative is no fiction. I am aware that some of myadventures may seem incredible; but they are, nevertheless, strictly true.I have not exaggerated the wrongs inflicted by Slavery; on the contrary, mydescriptions fall far short of the facts. I have concealed the names ofplaces, and given persons fictitious names. I had no motive for secrecy onmy own account, but I deemed it kind and considerate towards others topursue this course.

I wish I were more competent to the task I have undertaken. But I trust myreaders will excuse deficiencies in consideration of circumstances. I wasborn and reared in Slavery; and I remained in a Slave State twenty-sevenyears. Since I have been at the North, it has been necessary for me to workdiligently for my own support, and the education of my children. This hasnot left me much leisure to make up for the loss of early opportunities toimprove myself; and it has compelled me to write these pages at irregularintervals, whenever I could snatch an hour from household duties.

When I first arrived in Philadelphia, Bishop Paine advised me to publish asketch of my life, but I told him I was altogether incompetent to such anundertaking. Though I have improved my mind somewhat since that time, Istill remain of the same opinion; but I trust my motives will excuse whatmight otherwise seem presumptuous. I have not written my experiences inorder to attract attention to myself; on the contrary, it would have beenmore pleasant to me to have been silent about my own history. Neither do Icare to excite sympathy for my own sufferings. But I do earnestly desire toarouse the women of the North to a realizing sense of the condition of twomillions of women at the South, still in bondage, suffering what Isuffered, and most of them far worse. I want to add my testimony to that ofabler pens to convince the people of the Free States what Slavery reallyis. Only by experience can any one realize how deep, and dark, and foul isthat pit of abominations. May the blessing of God rest on this imperfecteffort in behalf of my persecuted people!

Linda Brent

The author of the following autobiography is personally known to me, andher conversation and manners inspire me with confidence. During the lastseventeen years, she has lived the greater part of the time with adistinguished family in New York, and has so deported herself as to behighly esteemed by them. This fact is sufficient, without furthercredentials of her character. I believe those who know her will not bedisposed to doubt her veracity, though some incidents in her story are moreromantic than fiction.

At her request, I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as I havemade have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly arrangement.I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed the import of hervery pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions, both the ideas and thelanguage are her own. I pruned excrescences a little, but otherwise I hadno reason for changing her lively and dramatic way of telling her ownstory. The names of both persons and places are known to me; but for goodreasons I suppress them.

It will naturally excite surprise that a woman reared in Slavery should beable to write so well. But circumstances will explain this. In the firstplace, nature endowed her with quick perceptions. Secondly, the mistress,with whom she lived till she was twelve years old, was a kind, consideratefriend, who taught her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed infavorable circumstances after she came to the North; having frequentintercourse with intelligent persons, who felt a friendly interest in herwelfare, and were disposed to give her opportunities for self-improvement.

I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum for presenting thesepages to the public; for the experiences of this intelligent andmuch-injured woman belong to a class which some call delicate subjects, andothers indelicate. This peculiar phase of Slavery has generally been keptveiled; but the public ought to be made acquainted with its monstrousfeatures, and I willingly take the responsibility of presenting them withthe veil withdrawn. I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, whoare suffering wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen tothem. I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting womenat the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence onthe question of Slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with the hopethat every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly before Godthat, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive from Slavery shallever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome den of corruption andcruelty.

L. Maria Child

I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhoodhad passed away. My father was a carpenter, and considered so intelligentand skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the common line wereto be erected, he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. Oncondition of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supportinghimself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs.His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he severaltimes offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded. Incomplexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and weretermed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home; and, though wewere all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was apiece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and liable to bedemanded of them at any moment. I had one brother, William, who was twoyears younger than myselfa bright, affectionate child. I had also a greattreasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in manyrespects. She was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at hisdeath, left her mother and his three children free, with money to go to St.Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War;and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold todifferent purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to tell me;but I do not remember all the particulars. She was a little girl when shewas captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I have often heardher tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as she grew older sheevinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master andmistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to take care ofsuch a valuable piece of property. She became an indispensable personage inthe household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet nurse toseamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackersbecame so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous ofobtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she askedpermission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all thehousehold work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided shewould clothe herself and her children from the profits. Upon these terms,after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnightbakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business provedprofitable; and each year she laid by a little, which was saved for a fundto purchase her children. Her master died, and the property was dividedamong his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel which she continuedto keep open. My grandmother remained in her service as a slave; but herchildren were divided among her master's children. As she had five,Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in order that each heir might have anequal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little difference in ourages that he seemed more like my brother than my uncle. He was a bright,handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmotherhad derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Though only ten years old, sevenhundred and twenty dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible blowto my grandmother, but she was naturally hopeful, and she went to work withrenewed energy, trusting in time to be able to purchase some of herchildren. She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her mistress one daybegged as a loan, promising to pay her soon. The reader probably knows thatno promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for, accordingto Southern laws, a slave,