CHAPTER XXXII.
Negroes: The assertion that negroes are careless of all domestic ties confuted by anecdotes—“Shadows” of negro character—Excuses for them—Conversion to Christianity—Belief of the Africans that after death they shall return to Africa—Instance of it—Africans and Creoles—Superstitions—Obeah.
Since writing the preceding chapter, it has been represented to me, that I have painted slavery in too gloomy colours, particularly the parting of husband and wife, parent and children, by sale; that the negroes are an unfeeling race; that parental or connubial affections are seldom felt by them; or if experienced at all, it is but very partially. As a proof of this, it is said that in Africa husbands will sell their wives and children, brothers their sisters, mothers their daughters, for a mere trifle. I am aware that such has been the case, particularly in times of scarcity, when part of a family has been disposed of to provide food for the rest. The Capuchin friars, in their mission to Congo, mention, that one day hearing a man making a great outcry, and saying, “I have no wife, no child, no brother! Miserable wretch that I am! I once had all these, but I sold them;” they asked him the reason for his acting so. “To purchase drink,” was the reply; “and if I had them again, I should do the same.” But this is a single circumstance; possibly, such an utter want of feeling would not be found in the rest of the tribe. Why should not love pervade the breast of the black as well as the white? That it does do so, may be proved by many pathetic instances.
A master of slaves in Kingston, Jamaica, owned a negro who was the mother of two fine little boys. Being in want of cash, the master disposed of one. The poor mother, in the agony of maternal feeling at having her offspring thus turned from her, made a hideous lamentation; and for this crime, as it was termed, her owner commanded her to receive a severe flogging. She had still one, however, left, and she would sit for hours, holding it in her arms, and pouring upon its unconscious ear her tale of sorrow. But alas! the spoiler came again: her master wanted more money, and regardless of the heart-rending cries of the distracted mother, who begged him not to take her last, her best-beloved, the child was sold. This utter bereavement “turned her heart within her,” and caused “the light of madness” to kindle in her eye.
A short time ago, I was speaking to an old woman whom I knew when she was a slave upon McKinnon’s estate; and among other questions, I asked her, “Juncho,” (her name,) “are you happier now than when you was a slave—are you better off now than you was then? or would you be satisfied to return to slavery, and become once more the property of your old master?“ “Missis,” returned the poor old creature, “me no going to tell ’tory, me ’peak de truth; me no better off now den me war den, nor no so well self; for den me hab house and garden, an me could raise ’tock, (meaning poultry, &c.,) an plant yam, an pittates, (potatoes,) an green, an ebery ting else; and now me free, me hab notting.” “And where is your house now?” I asked, to hear what she would say. “Why, wen August com, massa call me, and he say, Me no want you to lib here no more; you no good to work, you must go, me want your house to gib to one oder somebody dats ’trong; no ole like you; and you garden me want. So you know, missis, me forced to go; so me come to town wid me daughter, and me lib wid she, for me can do but lilly work now.” “Then you would rather be a slave again?” “Oh, no, missis, me no want to be slabe gen, me sure. God made me free—God put it in buckra heart to set me free, an me bless God for it; me no want to be slabe gen.” “But I understood you, that you were better off in the time of slavery—that you had many comforts then that you cannot obtain now, and yet you tell me you do not want to be a slave again—tell me the reason.” “Well, missis, it true me better off den dan me am now, for since me free, me no get much; sometimes me no eat bread all day, for me daughter hab so many pic’nees (children) she no able to gib me much; but den me no me free; me no God gib me free, and slabery is one bad something sometimes.” I went on to ask her what she meant by a “bad something,” for I was anxious to know what the negroes thought of slavery and freedom. “S’pose, den,” said Juncho, “s’pose you hab one pic’nee, dat pic’nee sick; well, he put in de sick house; me ’bliged to go field, me want to go see me sick pic’nee, but me no must go, me hab to work till ebening ’praps; wen work done, me go see me poor sick pic’nee, but me must no ’top wid he. Me hab make haste go; den me pic’nee say, ‘Mammy, ’top wid me, no go, mammy:’ but me forced to go and leabe me poor pic’nee. Den ’gen, missis, ’praps me pic’nee do something bad, something he no ought to do, and massa take he and tie he two hands up to one tree, else he make two men ’tretch he upon de ground, an den de driber lick he so, an me cry to see him lick so, and me pic’nee bawl, but me no dare say, ‘Don’t do so, massa; let him go,’ but me hab to go way and lebe he dere; so you see, missis, dat make me say me no lub slabery. Now wen me noung, me hab to work hard, hab dig cane hole, weed cane, pick grass, do ebery ting; but now me ole, and no able to work, dey take away me house, ’cause me no b’longs to dem, but den me no me free, and me bless God me am free.” This was Juncho’s tale: it proves negroes do feel for their relations when in trouble, or suffering from illness; but with regard to her being turned out of her house after freedom, I think is not quite correct, for I never heard of an Antiguan planter doing so. Perhaps all of her children who could be of any service to the estate, by working upon the property, quitted it, and the manager might have told her, that if they did not return, she must leave too.
Another instance, which illustrates the doctrine that negroes do feel affection towards each other, is related by one who used to frequent the slave markets. One day, going his rounds, he saw two fine intelligent-looking youths, with their arms clasped tightly round each other, and being pleased with their appearance, he went up, and asked the price of the eldest of the two. After some talk, the bargain was completed, and the negro became the property of his new master.
While this business was going on between the buyer and seller, the youths looked on with the deepest feeling of attention depicted upon their sable faces. When the younger perceived that his companion was about to be led away from him, he clung to him with almost supernatural strength. Suddenly he released his hold, sprang up, for he had thrown himself down upon his knees, commenced jumping with all his might, dancing, and putting himself into a thousand different attitudes, to shew his strength and the pliancy of his limbs, in hopes the purchaser would take him also. All, however, was of no avail, and his sorrowing friend in affliction was about to be led away; when the poor fellow, as if to try the last resort, flew up to the gentleman, threw his arms around him, and with the most expressive looks of agony, seemed to beseech his pity. Nature has not made every one insensible to the voice of woe; he saw and felt for the boy’s grief, and he lightened the bands of slavery by buying them both.
Another anecdote is related by a resident of Nevis, who had occasion to purchase some slaves, and accordingly, upon the arrival of a Guinea ship with a cargo of negroes, he went to inspect them. As they appeared strong and active, Mr. —— made a bargain for a certain number. After the lapse of some months, finding that he wanted an increase of hands to carry on the work of the estate, and another cargo having arrived, he visited the capital, and purchased a further supply of negroes, which were also conducted to his plantation. Upon their arrival, the former lot came forward to welcome the new comers; and amongst the number a young negress, who, when she had looked upon a female of about the same age as herself, suddenly started, her lips quivered with emotion, her eyes glistened, and then, as if fully assured, she started forward, and threw her arms around the neck of the girl who had attracted her attention, and who had been similarly affected, and burst into a flood of tears. Tenderly and fervently did these children of nature embrace each other, long did their mutual tears flow, until, when they had partly regained their composure, their master asked if they had known each other in Africa. In a voice of joy which vibrated upon every heart, the one who had first arrived, and who had acquired a little English, replied—“Oh, massa, she me own dear sissy!”
In many instances the character of the negroes is very bad—sullen, obstinate, and revengeful, given to lying, stealing, and deceit. Still I do not so much attribute this to their pristine state, as I do to the way in which they have formerly been treated. The Africans, torn from their native country and all their former connexions, made to work beneath a broiling sun harder than they were ever accustomed to do, beaten for the slightest fault, and scorned as the meanest reptile, could form, it is to be supposed, no very favourable opinion of their masters. Memory would at times transport them home; again, in fancy, would they roam their native wilds, or with their well-known companions rouse the tawny lion from his lair, or chase the fleet-footed antelope. Once more would the song be heard, once more, in imagination, would they join the festive dance beneath the spreading branches of some noble mimosa; but in the midst of this joyous scene, the voice of the overseer would be heard, or the crack of the driver’s whip dissolve their airy castles, and they would return to despondency and despair.
Ignorant of the God that made them, and of the mild doctrines of Christianity, no wonder the dark spirit of revenge took possession of their breasts. The feelings of the parents were naturally enough inculcated into the minds of their children, and this, strengthened, perhaps, by harsh treatment from their owners, has conspired to render the negro character, in great measure, what I am sorry to say it is.