Harriet
Jacobs
was born a slave in Edenton, North Carolina in 1813. Harriet's mother,
Delilah, was the slave of John Horniblow, a tavern-keeper, and her
father, Daniel Jacobs, a white slave owned by Dr. Andrew Knox. Delilah
died when Harriet was six years old and was brought up by her grandmother.
In 1825 Harriet was sold to Dr. James Norcom, who made numerous sexual
advances towards her. When rebuffed, Norcom refused her permission
to marry. Jacobs was seduced by Samuel Sawyer, a lawyer, and she had
two children by him. Dr. Norcom continued to sexually harass Harriet
and threatened to sell her children
to a slave-dealer.
In 1834 Harriet escaped to Philadelphia, and later moved on to New
York where she worked as nurse-maid. She began writing her autobiography
and some of it was published by Horace Greeley
in his newspaper, New
York Tribune.
Her account of how she had been sexually abused shocked the American
public and when her autobiography was completed, she found it difficult
to get it published.
They were particularly concerned by Harriet's descriptions of the
behaviour of Norcom (name changed to Flint in the book). Child defended
the inclusion of the material by arguing: "This peculiar phase
of slavery has generally been kept veiled; but the public ought to
be made acquainted with its monstrous features, and I willingly take
the responsibility of presenting them with the veil withdrawn. I do
this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who are suffering wrongs
so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to them."
Others people were upset by the way Jacobs highlighted the role of
the Church in maintaining slavery.
Eventually the manuscript was accepted by the publishers, Thayer and
Eldridge, who recruited Lydia Maria Child
to edit the book. Unfortunately, Thayer and Eldridge went bankrupt
and it was not until 1861 that it was published in Boston as Incidents
in the Life of a Slave Girl.
During the Civil
War Jacobs worked as a nurse in Virginia. When the Emancipation
Proclamation was issued in 1863 Jacobs wrote to Lydia
Maria Child
that: "I have lived to hear the Proclamation of Freedom for my
suffering people. All my wrongs are forgiven. I am more than repaid
for all I have endured."
Harriet Jacobs,
who lived the latter part of her life in Washington, died on 7th March,
1897, and is buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
(1)
Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
I was born a slave; but I never
knew it till six years of happy childhood had passed away. My father
was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent and skillful in his
trade, that, when buildings out of the common line were to be erected,
he was sent for from long distances, to be head workman. On condition
of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and supporting
himself, he was allowed to work at his trade, and manage his own affairs.
His strongest wish was to purchase his children; but, though he several
times offered his hard earnings for that purpose, he never succeeded.
In complexion my parents were a light shade of brownish yellow, and
were termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable home;
and, though we were all slaves, I was so fondly shielded that I never
dreamed I was a piece of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping,
and liable to be demanded of them at any moment.
(2)
Harriet Jacobs,
Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
Mrs. Flint, like many southern women, was totally deficient in energy.
She had not strength to superintend her household affairs; but her
nerves were so strong, that she could sit in her easy chair and see
a woman whipped, till the blood trickled from every stroke of the
lash. She was a member of the church; but partaking of the Lord's
supper did not seem to put her in a Christian frame of mind. If dinner
was not served at the exact time on that particular Sunday, she would
station herself in the kitchen, and wait till it was dished, and then
spit in all the kettles and pans that had been used for cooking. She
did this to prevent the cook and her children from eking out their
meager fare with the remains of the gravy and other scrapings. The
slaves could get nothing to eat except what she chose to give them.
Provisions were weighed out by the pound and ounce, three times a
day. I can assure you she gave them no chance to eat wheat bread from
her flour barrel. She knew how many biscuits a quart of flour would
make, and exactly what size they ought to be.
Dr. Flint was an epicure. The cook never
sent a dinner to his table without fear and trembling; for if there
happened to be a dish not to his liking, he would either order her
to be whipped, or compel her to eat every mouthful of it in his presence.
The poor, hungry creature might not have objected to eating it; but
she did object to having her master cram it down her throat till she
choked.
(3)
Harriet Jacobs,
Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
On one of these sale days, I saw a mother lead seven children to the
auction-block. She knew that some of them would be taken from her;
but they took all. The children were sold
to a slave-trader, and their mother was bought by a man in her own
town. Before night her children were all far away. She begged the
trader to tell her where he intended to take them; this he refused
to do. How could he, when he knew he would sell them, one by one,
wherever he could command the highest price? I met that mother in
the street, and her wild, haggard face lives to-day in my mind. She
wrung her hands in anguish, and exclaimed, "Gone! All gone! Why
don't God kill me?" I had no words wherewith to comfort her.
Instances of this kind are of daily, yea, of hourly occurrence.
(4)
Harriet Jacobs's brother, Benjamin, attempted to escape and was brought
back to the town.
That
day seems but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led
through the streets in chains, to jail. His face was ghastly pale,
yet full of determination. He had begged one of the sailors to go
to his mother's house and ask her not to meet him. He said the sight
of her distress would take from him all self-control. She yearned
to see him, and she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that
it might be as her child had said.
We
were not allowed to visit him; but we had known the jailer for years,
and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the jail door
for my grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered
the cell not a sound broke the stillness. "Benjamin, Benjamin!"
whispered my grandmother. No answer. "Benjamin!" she again
faltered. There was a jingle of chains. The moon had just risen, and
cast an uncertain light through the bars of the window. We knelt down
and took Benjamin's cold hands in ours. We did not speak. Sobs were
heard, and Benjamin's lips were unsealed; for his mother was weeping
on his neck.
How vividly does memory bring back that sad night!
Mother and son talked together. He had asked her pardon for the suffering
he had caused her. She said she had nothing to forgive; she could
not blame his desire for freedom. He told her that when he was captured,
he broke away, and was about casting himself into the river, when
thoughts of her came over him, and he desisted. She asked if he did
not also think of God. I fancied I saw his face grow fierce in the
moonlight. He answered, "No, I did not think of him. When a man
is hunted like a wild beast he forgets there is a God, a heaven. He
forgets every thing in his struggle to get beyond the reach of the
bloodhounds."
(5)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
But I now entered on my fifteenth year - a sad epoch in the life
of a slave girl. My master, Dr. Flint, began to whisper foul words
in my ear. Young as I was, I could not remain ignorant of their
import. I tried to treat them with indifference or contempt. The
master's age, my extreme youth, and the fear that his conduct would
be reported to my grandmother, made him bear this treatment for
many months. He was a crafty man, and resorted to many means to
accomplish his purposes. Sometimes he had stormy, terrific ways,
that made his victims tremble; sometimes he assumed a gentleness
that he thought must surely subdue. Of the two, I preferred his
stormy moods, although they left me trembling.
He tried his utmost to corrupt the pure principles my grandmother
had instilled. He peopled my young mind with unclean images, such
as only a vile monster could think of. I turned from him with disgust
and hatred. But he was my master. I was compelled to live under
the same roof with him - where I saw a man forty years my senior
daily violating the most sacred commandments of nature. He told
me I was his property; that I must be subject to his will in all
things. My soul revolted against the mean tyranny. But where could
I turn for protection? No matter whether the slave girl be as black
as ebony or as fair as her mistress. In either case, there is no
shadow of law to protect her from insult, from violence, or even
from death; all these are inflicted by fiends who bear the shape
of men.
The mistress, who ought to protect the helpless victim, has no other
feelings towards her but those of jealousy and rage. Even
the little child, who is accustomed to wait on her mistress and
her children, will learn, before she is twelve years old, why it
is that her mistress hates such and such a one among the slaves.
Perhaps the child's own mother is among those hated ones. She listens
to violent outbreaks of jealous passion, and cannot help understanding
what is the cause. She will become prematurely knowing in evil things.
Soon she will learn to tremble when she hears her master's footfall.
She will be compelled to realize that she is no longer a child.
If God has bestowed beauty upon her, it will prove her greatest
curse. That which commands admiration in the white woman only hastens
the degradation of the female slave. I know that some are too much
brutalized by slavery to feel the humiliation of their position;
but many slaves feel it most acutely, and shrink from the memory
of it. I cannot tell how much I suffered in the presence of these
wrongs, nor how I am still pained by the retrospect.
My master met me at every turn, reminding me that I belonged to
him, and swearing by heaven and
earth that he would compel me to submit to him. If I went out for
a breath of fresh air, after a day of unwearied toil, his footsteps
dogged me. If I knelt by my mother's grave, his dark shadow fell
on me even there. The light heart which nature had given me became
heavy with sad forebodings. The other slaves in my master's house
noticed the change. Many of them pitied me; but none dared to ask
the cause. They had no need to inquire. They knew too well the guilty
practices under that roof; and they were aware that to speak of
them was an offence that never went unpunished.
I longed for some one to confide in. I would have given the world
to have laid my head on my grandmother's faithful bosom, and told
her all my troubles. But Dr. Flint swore he would kill me, if I
was not as silent as the grave. Then, although my grandmother was
all in all to me, I feared her as well as loved her. I had been
accustomed to look up to her with a respect bordering upon awe.
I was very young, and felt shamefaced about telling her such impure
things, especially as I knew her to be very strict on such subjects.
(6)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
I had entered my sixteenth year, and every day it became more apparent
that my presence was intolerable to Mrs. Flint. Angry words frequently
passed between her and her husband. He had never punished me himself,
and he would not allow any body else to punish me. In that respect,
she was never satisfied; but, in her angry moods, no terms were
too vile for her to bestow upon me. Yet I, whom she detested so
bitterly, had far more pity for her than he had, whose duty it was
to make her life happy. I never wronged her, or wished to wrong
her; and one word of kindness from her would have brought me to
her feet.
After repeated quarrels between the doctor
and his wife, he announced his intention to take his youngest daughter,
then four years old, to sleep in his apartment. It was necessary
that a servant should sleep in the same room, to be on hand if the
child stirred. I was selected for that office, and informed for
what purpose that arrangement had been made.
(7)
Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
My master was, to my knowledge, the father of eleven slaves. But
did the mothers dare to tell who was the father of their children?
Did the other slaves dare to allude to it, except in whispers among
themselves? No, indeed! They knew too well the terrible consequences.
Southern women often marry a man knowing that he is the father of
many little slaves. They do not trouble themselves about it. They
regard such children as property, as marketable as the pigs on the
plantation; and it is seldom that they do not make them aware of
this by passing them into the slave-trader's hands as soon as possible,
and thus getting them out of their sight.
Some poor creatures have been so brutalized by the lash that they
will sneak out of the way to give their masters free access to their
wives and daughters. Do you think this proves the black man to belong
to an inferior order of beings? What would you be, if you had been
born and brought up a slave, with generations of slaves for ancestors?
I admit that the black man is inferior. But what is it that makes
him so? It is the ignorance in which white men compel him to live;
it is the torturing whip that lashes manhood out of him; it is the
fierce bloodhounds of the South, and the scarcely less cruel human
bloodhounds of the north, who enforce the Fugitive Slave Law. They
do the work.
(8)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
Slaveholders pride themselves upon being honorable men; but if you
were to hear the enormous lies they tell their slaves, you would
have small respect for their veracity. When they visit the north,
and return home, they tell their slaves of the runaways they have
seen, and describe them to be in the most deplorable condition.
A slaveholder once told me that he had seen a runaway friend of
mine in New York, and that she besought him to take her back to
her master, for she was literally dying of starvation; that many
days she had only one cold potato to eat, and at other times could
get nothing at all. He said he refused to take her, because he knew
her master would not thank him for bringing such a miserable wretch
to his house. He ended by saying to me, "This is the punishment
she brought on herself for running away from a kind master."
This whole story was false. I afterwards stayed with that friend
in New York, and found her in comfortable circumstances. She had
never thought of such a thing as wishing to go back to slavery.
Many of the slaves believe such stories, and think it is not worth
while to exchange slavery for such a hard kind of freedom.
(9)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
There was a planter in the country, not far from us, who had six
hundred slaves, many of whom he did not know by sight. His extensive
plantation was managed by well-paid overseers. There was a jail
and a whipping post on his grounds; and whatever cruelties were
perpetrated there, they passed without comment. He was so effectively
screened by his great wealth that he was called to no account for
his crimes, not even for murder.
Various were the punishments resorted to. A favorite one was to
tie a rope round a man's body, and suspend him from the ground.
A fire was kindled over him, from which was suspended a piece of
fat pork. As this cooked, the scalding drops of fat continually
fell on the bare flesh. On his own plantation, he required very
strict obedience to the eighth commandment. But depredations on
the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit managed to evade
detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of theft
against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master, who
assured him that his slaves had enough of every thing at home, and
had no inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned,
than the accused was sought out, and whipped.
His brother, if not equal in wealth, was at least equal in cruelty.
His bloodhounds were well trained. Their pen was spacious, and a
terror to the slaves. They were let loose on a runaway, and, if
they tracked him, they literally tore the flesh from his bones.
When this slaveholder died, his shrieks and groans were so frightful
that they appalled his own friends. His last words were, "I
am going to hell; bury my money with me."
(10)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
Not far from this time Nat Turner's insurrection broke out; and
the news threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they
should be alarmed when their slaves were so "contented and
happy"! But so it was.
By sunrise, people were pouring in from every
quarter within twenty miles of the town. I knew the houses were
to be searched; and I expected it would be done by country bullies
and the poor whites. The men were divided into companies of sixteen,
each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild scouts
rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found.
It was a grand opportunity for the low whites,
who had no negroes of their own to scourge. They exulted in such
a chance to exercise a little brief authority, and show their subservience
to the slaveholders; not reflecting that the power which trampled
on the colored people also kept themselves in poverty, ignorance,
and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed such scenes can
hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on innocent
men, women, and children, against whom there was not the slightest
ground for suspicion.
Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts of the town
suffered most. In some cases the searchers scattered powder and
shot among their clothes, and then sent other parties to find them,
and bring them forward as proof that they were plotting insurrection.
Every where men, women, and children were whipped till the blood
stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes;
others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking paddle,
which blisters the skin terribly.
All day long these unfeeling wretches went round, like a troop of
demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At night, they formed
themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they chose among
the colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women hid
themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any
of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied
up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling
lies about white men.
(11)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
After the alarm caused by Nat Turner's insurrection had subsided,
the slaveholders came to the conclusion that it would be well to
give the slaves enough of religious instruction to keep them from
murdering their masters. The Episcopal clergyman offered to hold
a separate service on Sundays for their benefit.
When the Rev. Mr. Pike came, there were some twenty persons present.
The reverend gentleman knelt in prayer, then seated himself, and
requested all present, who could read, to open their books, while
he gave out the portions he wished them to repeat or respond to.
His text was, "Servants,
be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh,
with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ."
Pious Mr. Pike brushed up his hair till it stood upright, and, in
deep, solemn tones, began: "Give strict heed unto my words.
You are rebellious sinners. Your hearts are filled with all manner
of evil. 'Tis the devil who tempts you. God is angry with you, and
will surely punish you, if you don't forsake your wicked ways. Instead
of serving your masters faithfully, which is pleasing in the sight
of your heavenly Master, you are idle, and shirk your work. God
sees you. You tell lies. God hears you. Instead of being engaged
in worshipping him, you are hidden away somewhere, feasting on your
master's substance; tossing coffee-grounds with some wicked fortuneteller,
or cutting cards with another old hag. Your masters may not find
you out, but God sees you, and will punish you. You must forsake
your sinful ways, and be faithful servants.
Obey your old master and your young master - your old mistress and
your young mistress. If you disobey your earthly master, you offend
your heavenly Master. You must obey God's commandments. When you
go from here, don't stop at the corners of the streets to talk,
but go directly home, and let your master and mistress see that
you have come."
(12)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
A clergyman who goes to the south, for the first time, has usually
some feeling, however vague, that slavery is wrong. The slaveholder
suspects this, and plays his game accordingly. He makes himself
as agreeable as possible; talks on theology, and other kindred topics.
The southerner invites him to talk with these slaves. He asks them
if they want to be free, and they say, "O, no, massa."
This is sufficient to satisfy him. He comes home to publish a "South-Side
View of Slavery," and to complain of the exaggerations of abolitionists.
He assures people that he has been to the south, and seen slavery
for himself; that it is a beautiful "patriarchal institution;"
that the slaves don't want their freedom; that they have hallelujah
meetings, and other religious privileges.
What does he know
of the half-starved wretches toiling from dawn till dark on the
plantations? of mothers shrieking for their children, torn from
their arms by slave traders? of young girls dragged down into moral
filth? of pools of blood around the whipping post? of hounds trained
to tear human flesh? of men screwed into cotton gins to die? The
slaveholder showed him none of these things, and the slaves dared
not tell of them if he had asked them.
(13)
Reward
notice put out for Harriet Jacobs after she escaped from his home
(134)
"$300 REWARD! Ran away from the
subscriber, an intelligent, bright, mulatto girl, 21 years age.
Five feet four inches high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to
curl; but it can be made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front
tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability will try to
get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty
of the law, to harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to
whoever takes her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state
and delivered to me, or lodged in jail.
(14)
Harriet
Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
We were placed in a row-boat, and in about fifteen minutes were
landed on a wood wharf in Philadelphia. As I stood looking round,
the friendly captain touched me on the shoulder, and said, "There
is a respectable-looking colored man behind you. I will speak to
him about the New York trains, and tell him you wish to go directly
on." I thanked him, and asked him to direct me to some shops
where I could buy gloves and veils. He did so, and said he would
talk with the colored man till I returned. I made what haste I could.
Constant exercise on board the vessel, and frequent rubbing with
salt water, had nearly restored the use of my limbs. The noise of
the great city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought some
double veils and gloves for Fanny and myself. I made my way back
to the wharf, where the captain introduced me to the colored man,
as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, minister of Bethel church. He took
me by the hand, as if I had been an old friend. He told us we were
too late for the morning cars to New York, and must wait until the
evening, or the next morning. He invited me to go home with him,
assuring me that his wife would give me a cordial welcome; and for
my friend he would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I thanked
him for so much kindness to strangers, and told him if I must be
detained, I should like to hunt up some people who formerly went
from our part of the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should
dine with him, and then he would assist me in finding my friends.
The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook their hardy hands, with
tears in my eyes. They had all been kind to us, and they had rendered
us a greater service than they could possibly conceive of.
(15)
Lydia Maria Child, introduction to Incidents
in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861)
I have revised her manuscript; but such changes as
I have made have been mainly for purposes of condensation and orderly
arrangement. I have not added any thing to the incidents, or changed
the import of her very pertinent remarks. With trifling exceptions,
both the ideas and the language are her own. I pruned excrescences
a little, but otherwise I had no reason for changing her lively
and dramatic way of telling her own story. The names of both persons
and places are known to me; but for good reasons I suppress them.
It will naturally excite surprise that a woman
reared in slavery should be able to write so well. But circumstances
will explain this. In the first place, nature endowed her with quick
perceptions. Secondly, the mistress, with whom she lived till she
was twelve years old, was a kind, considerate friend, who taught
her to read and spell. Thirdly, she was placed in favorable circumstances
after she came to the North; having frequent intercourse with intelligent
persons, who felt a friendly interest in her welfare, and were disposed
to give her opportunities for self-improvement.
I am well aware that many will accuse me of indecorum
for presenting these pages to the public; for the experiences of
this intelligent and much-injured woman belong to a class which
some call delicate subjects, and others indelicate. This peculiar
phase of slavery has generally been kept veiled; but the public
ought to be made acquainted with its monstrous features, and I willingly
take the responsibility of presenting them with the veil withdrawn.
I do this for the sake of my sisters in bondage, who are suffering
wrongs so foul, that our ears are too delicate to listen to them.
I do it with the hope of arousing conscientious and reflecting women
at the North to a sense of their duty in the exertion of moral influence
on the question of slavery, on all possible occasions. I do it with
the hope that every man who reads this narrative will swear solemnly
before God that, so far as he has power to prevent it, no fugitive
from slavery shall ever be sent back to suffer in that loathsome
den of corruption and cruelty.
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