Mary Prince - The History of Mary Prince
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6 THE
HISTORY OF MARY PRINCE,
A WEST INDIAN SLAVE.
RELATED BY HERSELF.
WITH A SUPPLEMENT BY THE EDITOR.
To which is added,
THE NARRATIVE OF ASA-ASA,
A CAPTURED AFRICAN.
"By our sufferings, since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart,--
All sustain'd by patience, taught us
Only by a broken heart,--
Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger
Than the colour of our kind."
COWPER.
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY F. WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS,
STATIONERS' HALL COURT;
AND BY WAUGH & INNES, EDINBURGH.
1831.
PREFACE.
The idea of writing Mary Prince's history was first suggested by herself.
She wished it to be done, she said, that good people in England might hear
from a slave what a slave had felt and suffered; and a letter of her late
master's, which will be found in the Supplement, induced me to accede to
her wish without farther delay. The more immediate object of the
publication will afterwards appear.
The narrative was taken down from Mary's own lips by a lady who happened
to be at the time residing in my family as a visitor. It was written out
fully, with all the narrator's repetitions and prolixities, and afterwards
pruned into its present shape; retaining, as far as was practicable,
Mary's exact expressions and peculiar phraseology. No fact of importance
has been omitted, and not a single circumstance or sentiment has been
added. It is essentially her own, without any material alteration farther
than was requisite to exclude redundancies and gross grammatical errors,
so as to render it clearly intelligible.
After it had been thus written out, I went over the whole, carefully
examining her on every fact and circumstance detailed; and in all that
relates to her residence in Antigua I had the advantage of being assisted
in this scrutiny by Mr. Joseph Phillips, who was a resident in that colony
during the same period, and had known her there.
The names of all the persons mentioned by the narrator have been printed
in full, except those of Capt. I---- and his wife, and that of Mr. D----,
to whom conduct of peculiar atrocity is ascribed. These three individuals
are now gone to answer at a far more awful tribunal than that of public
opinion, for the deeds of which their former bondwoman accuses them; and
to hold them up more openly to human reprobation could no longer affect
themselves, while it might deeply lacerate the feelings of their surviving
and perhaps innocent relatives, without any commensurate public advantage.
Without detaining the reader with remarks on other points which will be
adverted to more conveniently in the Supplement, I shall here merely
notice farther, that the Anti-Slavery Society have no concern whatever
with this publication, nor are they in any degree responsible for the
statements it contains. I have published the tract, not as their
Secretary, but in my private capacity; and any profits that may arise from
the sale will be exclusively appropriated to the benefit of Mary Prince
herself.
THO. PRINGLE.
_7, Solly Terrace, Claremont Square_,
_January 25, 1831._
P. S. Since writing the above, I have been furnished by my friend Mr.
George Stephen, with the interesting narrative of Asa-Asa, a captured
African, now under his protection; and have printed it as a suitable
appendix to this little history.
T. P.
THE HISTORY OF MARY PRINCE, A WEST INDIAN SLAVE.
(Related by herself.)
I was born at Brackish-Pond, in Bermuda, on a farm belonging to Mr.
Charles Myners. My mother was a household slave; and my father, whose name
was Prince, was a sawyer belonging to Mr. Trimmingham, a ship-builder at
Crow-Lane. When I was an infant, old Mr. Myners died, and there was a
division of the slaves and other property among the family. I was bought
along with my mother by old Captain Darrel, and given to his grandchild,
little Miss Betsey Williams. Captain Williams, Mr. Darrel's son-in-law,
was master of a vessel which traded to several places in America and the
West Indies, and he was seldom at home long together.
Mrs. Williams was a kind-hearted good woman, and she treated all her
slaves well. She had only one daughter, Miss Betsey, for whom I was
purchased, and who was about my own age. I was made quite a pet of by Miss
Betsey, and loved her very much. She used to lead me about by the hand,
and call me her little nigger. This was the happiest period of my life;
for I was too young to understand rightly my condition as a slave, and too
thoughtless and full of spirits to look forward to the days of toil and
sorrow.
My mother was a household slave in the same family. I was under her own
care, and my little brothers and sisters were my play-fellows and
companions. My mother had several fine children after she came to Mrs.
Williams,--three girls and two boys. The tasks given out to us children
were light, and we used to play together with Miss Betsey, with as much
freedom almost as if she had been our sister.
My master, however, was a very harsh, selfish man; and we always dreaded
his return from sea. His wife was herself much afraid of him; and, during
his stay at home, seldom dared to shew her usual kindness to the slaves.
He often left her, in the most distressed circumstances, to reside in
other female society, at some place in the West Indies of which I have
forgot the name. My poor mistress bore his ill-treatment with great
patience, and all her slaves loved and pitied her. I was truly attached to
her, and, next to my own mother, loved her better than any creature in the
world. My obedience to her commands was cheerfully given: it sprung
solely from the affection I felt for her, and not from fear of the power
which the white people's law had given her over me.
I had scarcely reached my twelfth year when my mistress became too poor to
keep so many of us at home; and she hired me out to Mrs. Pruden, a lady
who lived about five miles off, in the adjoining parish, in a large house
near the sea. I cried bitterly at parting with my dear mistress and Miss
Betsey, and when I kissed my mother and brothers and sisters, I thought my
young heart would break, it pained me so. But there was no help; I was
forced to go. Good Mrs. Williams comforted me by saying that I should
still be near the home I was about to quit, and might come over and see
her and my kindred whenever I could obtain leave of absence from Mrs.
Pruden. A few hours after this I was taken to a strange house, and found
myself among strange people. This separation seemed a sore trial to me
then; but oh! 'twas light, light to the trials I have since
endured!--'twas nothing--nothing to be mentioned with them; but I was a
child then, and it was according to my strength.
I knew that Mrs. Williams could no longer maintain me; that she was fain
to part with me for my food and clothing; and I tried to submit myself to
the change. My new mistress was a passionate woman; but yet she did not
treat me very unkindly. I do not remember her striking me but once, and
that was for going to see Mrs. Williams when I heard she was sick, and
staying longer than she had given me leave to do. All my employment at
this time was nursing a sweet baby, little Master Daniel; and I grew so
fond of my nursling that it was my greatest delight to walk out with him
by the sea-shore, accompanied by his brother and sister, Miss Fanny and
Master James.--Dear Miss Fanny! She was a sweet, kind young lady, and so
fond of me that she wished me to learn all that she knew herself; and her
method of teaching me was as follows:--Directly she had said her lessons
to her grandmamma, she used to come running to me, and make me repeat them
one by one after her; and in a few months I was able not only to say my
letters but to spell many small words. But this happy state was not to
last long. Those days were too pleasant to last. My heart always softens
when I think of them.
At this time Mrs. Williams died. I was told suddenly of her death, and my
grief was so great that, forgetting I had the baby in my arms, I ran away
directly to my poor mistress's house; but reached it only in time to see
the corpse carried out. Oh, that was a day of sorrow,--a heavy day! All
the slaves cried. My mother cried and lamented her sore; and I (foolish
creature!) vainly entreated them to bring my dear mistress back to life. I
knew nothing rightly about death then, and it seemed a hard thing to bear.
When I thought about my mistress I felt as if the world was all gone
wrong; and for many days and weeks I could think of nothing else. I
returned to Mrs. Pruden's; but my sorrow was too great to be comforted,
for my own dear mistress was always in my mind. Whether in the house or
abroad, my thoughts were always talking to me about her.
I staid at Mrs. Pruden's about three months after this; I was then sent
back to Mr. Williams to be sold. Oh, that was a sad sad time! I recollect
the day well. Mrs. Pruden came to me and said, "Mary, you will have to go
home directly; your master is going to be married, and he means to sell
you and two of your sisters to raise money for the wedding." Hearing this
I burst out a crying,--though I was then far from being sensible of the
full weight of my misfortune, or of the misery that waited for me.
Besides, I did not like to leave Mrs. Pruden, and the dear baby, who had
grown very fond of me. For some time I could scarcely believe that Mrs.
Pruden was in earnest, till I received orders for my immediate
return.--Dear Miss Fanny! how she cried at parting with me, whilst I
kissed and hugged the baby, thinking I should never see him again. I left
Mrs. Pruden's, and walked home with a heart full of sorrow. The idea of
being sold away from my mother and Miss Betsey was so frightful, that I
dared not trust myself to think about it. We had been bought of Mr.
Myners, as I have mentioned, by Miss Betsey's grandfather, and given to
her, so that we were by right _her_ property, and I never thought we
should be separated or sold away from her.
When I reached the house, I went in directly to Miss Betsey. I found her
in great distress; and she cried out as soon as she saw me, "Oh, Mary! my
father is going to sell you all to raise money to marry that wicked woman.
You are _my_ slaves, and he has no right to sell you; but it is all to
please her." She then told me that my mother was living with her father's
sister at a house close by, and I went there to see her. It was a
sorrowful meeting; and we lamented with a great and sore crying our
unfortunate situation. "Here comes one of my poor picaninnies!" she said,
the moment I came in, "one of the poor slave-brood who are to be sold
to-morrow."
Oh dear! I cannot bear to think of that day,--it is too much.--It recalls
the great grief that filled my heart, and the woeful thoughts that passed
to and fro through my mind, whilst listening to the pitiful words of my
poor mother, weeping for the loss of her children. I wish I could find
words to tell you all I then felt and suffered. The great God above alone
knows the thoughts of the poor slave's heart, and the bitter pains which
follow such separations as these. All that we love taken away from us--Oh,
it is sad, sad! and sore to be borne!--I got no sleep that night for
thinking of the morrow; and dear Miss Betsey was scarcely less distressed.
She could not bear to part with her old playmates, and she cried sore and
would not be pacified.
The black morning at length came; it came too soon for my poor mother and
us. Whilst she was putting on us the new osnaburgs in which we were to be
sold, she said, in a sorrowful voice, (I shall never forget it!) "See, I
am _shrouding_ my poor children; what a task for a mother!"--She then
called Miss Betsey to take leave of us. "I am going to carry my little
chickens to market," (these were her very words,) "take your last look of
them; may be you will see them no more." "Oh, my poor slaves! my own
slaves!" said dear Miss Betsey, "you belong to me; and it grieves my heart
to part with you."--Miss Betsey kissed us all, and, when she left us, my
mother called the rest of the slaves to bid us good bye. One of them, a
woman named Moll, came with her infant in her arms. "Ay!" said my mother,
seeing her turn away and look at her child with the tears in her eyes,
"your turn will come next." The slaves could say nothing to comfort us;
they could only weep and lament with us. When I left my dear little
brothers and the house in which I had been brought up, I thought my heart
would burst.
Our mother, weeping as she went, called me away with the children Hannah
and Dinah, and we took the road that led to Hamble Town, which we reached
about four o'clock in the afternoon. We followed my mother to the
market-place, where she placed us in a row against a large house, with our
backs to the wall and our arms folded across our breasts. I, as the
eldest, stood first, Hannah next to me, then Dinah; and our mother stood
beside, crying over us. My heart throbbed with grief and terror so
violently, that I pressed my hands quite tightly across my breast, but I
could not keep it still, and it continued to leap as though it would burst
out of my body. But who cared for that? Did one of the many by-standers,
who were looking at us so carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the
hearts of the negro woman and her young ones? No, no! They were not all
bad, I dare say; but slavery hardens white people's hearts towards the
blacks; and many of them were not slow to make their remarks upon us
aloud, without regard to our grief--though their light words fell like
cayenne on the fresh wounds of our hearts. Oh those white people have
small hearts who can only feel for themselves.
At length the vendue master, who was to offer us for sale like sheep or
cattle, arrived, and asked my mother which was the eldest. She said
nothing, but pointed to me. He took me by the hand, and led me out into
the middle of the street, and, turning me slowly round, exposed me to the
view of those who attended the vendue. I was soon surrounded by strange
men, who examined and handled me in the same manner that a butcher would a
calf or a lamb he was about to purchase, and who talked about my shape and
size in like words--as if I could no more understand their meaning than
the dumb beasts. I was then put up to sale. The bidding commenced at a few
pounds, and gradually rose to fifty-seven,[1] when I was knocked down to
the highest bidder; and the people who stood by said that I had fetched a
great sum for so young a slave.
[Footnote 1: Bermuda currency; about L38 sterling.]
I then saw my sisters led forth, and sold to different owners; so that we
had not the sad satisfaction of being partners in bondage. When the sale
was over, my mother hugged and kissed us, and mourned over us, begging of
us to keep up a good heart, and do our duty to our new masters. It was a
sad parting; one went one way, one another, and our poor mammy went home
with nothing.[2]
[Footnote 2: Let the reader compare the above affecting account, taken
down from the mouth of this negro woman, with the following description of
a vendue of slaves at the Cape of Good Hope, published by me in 1826, from
the letter of a friend,--and mark their similarity in several
characteristic circumstances. The resemblance is easily accounted for:
slavery wherever it prevails produces similar effects.--"Having heard that
there was to be a sale of cattle, farm stock, &c. by auction, at a
Veld-Cornet's in the vicinity, we halted our waggon one day for the
purpose of procuring a fresh spann of oxen. Among the stock of the farm
sold, was a female slave and her three children. The two eldest children
were girls, the one about thirteen years of age, and the other about
eleven; the youngest was a boy. The whole family were exhibited together,
but they were sold separately, and to different purchasers. The farmers
examined them as if they had been so many head of cattle. While the sale
was going on, the mother and her children were exhibited on a table, that
they might be seen by the company, which was very large. There could not
have been a finer subject for an able painter than this unhappy group. The
tears, the anxiety, the anguish of the mother, while she met the gaze of
the multitude, eyed the different countenances of the bidders, or cast a
heart-rending look upon the children; and the simplicity and touching
sorrow of the young ones, while they clung to their distracted parent,
wiping their eyes, and half concealing their faces,--contrasted with the
marked insensibility and jocular countenances of the spectators and
purchasers,--furnished a striking commentary on the miseries of slavery,
and its debasing effects upon the hearts of its abettors. While the woman
was in this distressed situation she was asked, 'Can you feed sheep?' Her
reply was so indistinct that it escaped me; but it was probably in the
negative, for her purchaser rejoined, in a loud and harsh voice, 'Then I
will teach you with the sjamboc,' (a whip made of the rhinoceros' hide.)
The mother and her three children were sold to three separate purchasers;
and they were literally torn from each other."--_Ed._]
My new master was a Captain I----, who lived at Spanish Point. After
parting with my mother and sisters, I followed him to his store, and he
gave me into the charge of his son, a lad about my own age, Master Benjy,
who took me to my new home. I did not know where I was going, or what my
new master would do with me. My heart was quite broken with grief, and my
thoughts went back continually to those from whom I had been so suddenly
parted. "Oh, my mother! my mother!" I kept saying to myself, "Oh, my mammy
and my sisters and my brothers, shall I never see you again!"
Oh, the trials! the trials! they make the salt water come into my eyes
when I think of the days in which I was afflicted--the times that are
gone; when I mourned and grieved with a young heart for those whom I
loved.
It was night when I reached my new home. The house was large, and built at
the bottom of a very high hill; but I could not see much of it that night.
I saw too much of it afterwards. The stones and the timber were the best
things in it; they were not so hard as the hearts of the owners.[3]
[Footnote 3: These strong expressions, and all of a similar character in
this little narrative, are given verbatim as uttered by Mary
Prince.--_Ed._]
Before I entered the house, two slave women, hired from another owner, who
were at work in the yard, spoke to me, and asked who I belonged to? I
replied, "I am come to live here." "Poor child, poor child!" they both
said; "you must keep a good heart, if you are to live here."--When I went
in, I stood up crying in a corner. Mrs. I---- came and took off my hat, a
little black silk hat Miss Pruden made for me, and said in a rough voice,
"You are not come here to stand up in corners and cry, you are come here
to work." She then put a child into my arms, and, tired as I was, I was
forced instantly to take up my old occupation of a nurse.--I could not
bear to look at my mistress, her countenance was so stern. She was a stout
tall woman with a very dark complexion, and her brows were always drawn
together into a frown. I thought of the words of the two slave women when
I saw Mrs. I----, and heard the harsh sound of her voice.
The person I took the most notice of that night was a French Black called
Hetty, whom my master took in privateering from another vessel, and made
his slave. She was the most active woman I ever saw, and she was tasked to
her utmost. A few minutes after my arrival she came in from milking the
cows, and put the sweet-potatoes on for supper. She then fetched home the
sheep, and penned them in the fold; drove home the cattle, and staked them
about the pond side;[4] fed and rubbed down my master's horse, and gave
the hog and the fed cow[5] their suppers; prepared the beds, and undressed
the children, and laid them to sleep. I liked to look at her and watch all
her doings, for hers was the only friendly face I had as yet seen, and I
felt glad that she was there. She gave me my supper of potatoes and milk,
and a blanket to sleep upon, which she spread for me in the passage before
the door of Mrs. I----'s chamber.
[Footnote 4: The cattle on a small plantation in Bermuda are, it seems,
often thus staked or tethered, both night and day, in situations where
grass abounds.]
[Footnote 5: A cow fed for slaughter.]
I got a sad fright, that night. I was just going to sleep, when I heard a
noise in my mistress's room; and she presently called out to inquire if
some work was finished that she had ordered Hetty to do. "No, Ma'am, not
yet," was Hetty's answer from below. On hearing this, my master started up
from his bed, and just as he was, in his shirt, ran down stairs with a
long cow-skin[6] in his hand. I heard immediately after, the cracking of
the thong, and the house rang to the shrieks of poor Hetty, who kept
crying out, "Oh, Massa! Massa! me dead. Massa! have mercy upon me--don't
kill me outright."--This was a sad beginning for me. I sat up upon my
blanket, trembling with terror, like a frightened hound, and thinking that
my turn would come next. At length the house became still, and I forgot
for a little while all my sorrows by falling fast asleep.
[Footnote 6: A thong of hard twisted hide, known by this name in the West
Indies.]
The next morning my mistress set about instructing me in my tasks. She
taught me to do all sorts of household work; to wash and bake, pick cotton
and wool, and wash floors, and cook. And she taught me (how can I ever
forget it!) more things than these; she caused me to know the exact
difference between the smart of the rope, the cart-whip, and the cow-skin,
when applied to my naked body by her own cruel hand. And there was
scarcely any punishment more dreadful than the blows I received on my face
and head from her hard heavy fist. She was a fearful woman, and a savage
mistress to her slaves.
There were two little slave boys in the house, on whom she vented her bad
temper in a special manner. One of these children was a mulatto, called
Cyrus, who had been bought while an infant in his mother's arms; the
other, Jack, was an African from the coast of Guinea, whom a sailor had
given or sold to my master. Seldom a day passed without these boys
receiving the most severe treatment, and often for no fault at all. Both
my master and mistress seemed to think that they had a right to ill-use
them at their pleasure; and very often accompanied their commands with
blows, whether the children were behaving well or ill. I have seen their
flesh ragged and raw with licks.--Lick--lick--they were never secure one
moment from a blow, and their lives were passed in continual fear. My
mistress was not contented with using the whip, but often pinched their
cheeks and arms in the most cruel manner. My pity for these poor boys was
soon transferred to myself; for I was licked, and flogged, and pinched by
her pitiless fingers in the neck and arms, exactly as they were. To strip
me naked--to hang me up by the wrists and lay my flesh open with the
cow-skin, was an ordinary punishment for even a slight offence. My
mistress often robbed me too of the hours that belong to sleep. She used
to sit up very late, frequently even until morning; and I had then to
stand at a bench and wash during the greater part of the night, or pick
wool and cotton; and often I have dropped down overcome by sleep and
fatigue, till roused from a state of stupor by the whip, and forced to
start up to my tasks.
Poor Hetty, my fellow slave, was very kind to me, and I used to call her
my Aunt; but she led a most miserable life, and her death was hastened (at
least the slaves all believed and said so,) by the dreadful chastisement
she received from my master during her pregnancy. It happened as follows.
One of the cows had dragged the rope away from the stake to which Hetty
had fastened it, and got loose. My master flew into a terrible passion,
and ordered the poor creature to be stripped quite naked, notwithstanding
her pregnancy, and to be tied up to a tree in the yard. He then flogged
her as hard as he could lick, both with the whip and cow-skin, till she
was all over streaming with blood. He rested, and then beat her again and
again. Her shrieks were terrible. The consequence was that poor Hetty was
brought to bed before her time, and was delivered after severe labour of a
dead child. She appeared to recover after her confinement, so far that she
was repeatedly flogged by both master and mistress afterwards; but her
former strength never returned to her. Ere long her body and limbs swelled
to a great size; and she lay on a mat in the kitchen, till the water burst
out of her body and she died. All the slaves said that death was a good
thing for poor Hetty; but I cried very much for her death. The manner of
it filled me with horror. I could not bear to think about it; yet it was
always present to my mind for many a day.
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