Had Irving now seen the once attractive Imihie, and her playful boy, as he even beheld them in the slave-room of the African courtier, he would scarcely have given credit to any assurance that she was the same individual. She then, recently a captive, peculiarly displayed in her person the characteristic feminine traits of her country—perfect symmetry of proportion, and beautiful, in as far as it did not consist in colour. Modest, affable, and faithful, these sweet feminine qualities emanated from her softened eyes, and an air of winning innocence in every look and gesture; while every word was pronounced with an inflection of voice so sweet, so soft, so tender, that cold indeed must have been the heart that could withstand its eloquent appeal, or listen, unmoved, to its modulations. Such was the young Imihie. Now, alas! how changed! Emaciated for want of food, sinking with illness, shrinking from exposure; almost frenzied with the recollection of the past, the misery of the present, and the dread of the future; bearing, with difficulty, her infant, she was conducted, with her companions in misery, to the vendue, in the bare hope that she might be purchased for the sake of the boy; who, though suffering from the effects of the voyage and want of his natural nutriment, still evidently displayed great intelligence, and much natural vigour. The first day of exhibition passed, and no purchaser was found for the sulky negress, (for such is the feeling term applied to the desponding.)
On occasions like this, it is a common thing to speculate upon the purchase of what are termed the refuse negroes, or those left from the first day’s sale. Some are frequently in so weak and miserable a state, as even to be sold as low as for a dollar; some are taken to the mart almost in the agonies of death; and some are even known to draw their last sigh in the piazzas of the vendue master. It was on the second day’s sale that Imihie was purchased by a planter for a very low sum, and carried into the country, with some others, whom he intended to retail. The situation of these wretched captives was but little ameliorated, by becoming the property of this man, who was of that class of managers, who think that the safety of the family to which they are subservient, and the interest of the proprietor, renders severity indispensable, and oppression the only mode of subduing the refractory spirit of the African, whom they regard with the most sovereign contempt. With souls lost to all sense of compassion, they believe there can be but one mode of enforcing obedience, that of fear; and in the exercise of their delegated authority, they put in action, to the utmost, this ignoble stimulus, by every means which a spirit of cruelty and ignorance can suggest.
Short, indeed, would have been the existence of the miserable Imihie, had she continued the property of this semi-barbarian. Confined in a narrow and unwholesome hut, without a single comfort; a hurdle for a bed, which rather served to torture than to ease her pained and wearied limbs, with scarcely sufficient of a coarse linen to secure her frame from the scorching heats of the day, and the dangerous dews of night; in the midst of the richest bounties of nature, and the abundant luxuries of art, fed on salt beef and salt cod, and roots, with the injurious flour of the cassava, imperfectly prepared, and these in quantity scarcely sufficient to support existence; deprived of every enjoyment; condemned to perpetual labour, under the rod of an unfeeling master, there could be no chance of amendment of health, or of reconcilement to her destiny. But Providence ordained she should yet feel the happiness of sympathy. Her tyrant master, finding that her labour was very inadequate to the expences of retaining her, would have separated her from her child, and sold her for the smallest possible sum; but a neighbouring proprietor of a small plantation offered a satisfactory price for them together, and they were removed to a comparatively comfortable situation, in the hope that, with rest and better food, she might be enabled to become a house-slave to the wife of the purchaser.
It has been remarked, by observing travellers, that the women of the West Indies possess great natural kind feelings; but that the habitual view of oppression, and the free exercise of power over the slaves, renders them very insensible to the sufferings of the negro women, and totally regardless of promoting their happiness, or of studying to ameliorate their hard lot; and that the instances are by no means uncommon, in which they treat and have them punished with the utmost severity: that they can raise, to no gentle tone, their soft voices, and exert, with no little energy, their spiritless frames, when provoked by the awkwardness, or jealous of the influence of their sable captives. Ah! much to be lamented is that state of oppression on the one part, and debasement on the other, which can convert the expression of that distinguishing feature of beauty, of female beauty more especially, from that which indicates right feeling, to that which betrays a superiority the God of nature designed not. A woman’s eye should melt with tenderness, sparkle with innocent animation, weep with those that weep, and beam with the rays of joy at the happiness of another.
Such was the expression which shed its consolation on the desolated Imihie, upon the visit of her new mistress to her lowly hut. This amiable woman was young, but her mind had been early matured in the school of adversity: a hapless fate had fixed her residence in a remote part of Jamaica, but she had also learnt, from precepts which will never lead astray, “in whatsoever situation she was, therewith to be content.” From the same Master who had inspired this lesson of the apostle, she had also learnt the only cure for the rebellion of the mind; that force defeated its object; that it was the interest of those who possessed power over their fellow-beings, that they should be attached to life, for nothing could be expected from them, the moment that they no longer feared death. Guiding her conduct by this principle of enlightened reason, derived from a far higher source, the most genuine sentiments of humanity were in constant exercise, by a corresponding course of action. She could not, indeed, as an obscure and solitary individual, break or remove the yoke which oppressed her fellow-creatures; but she could render it easier to be borne, and could, sometimes, even for a time, dissipate the cruel sense of it, by promoting and favouring the natural tastes of her poor slaves. Their lodging, clothing, and food, were all attended to by persons she could depend upon, and regularly inspected by herself. Far from regarding the occupation degrading, she persevered in it as a commanding duty; and she reaped her high reward, by the grateful affection of her poor servants. By various simple methods, she roused from the apathy of despair, and awakened the sensibilities. Little festivals conducted with judgment, innocent recreations, and simple rewards, preserved her slaves from the continual melancholy, which had too just a foundation. She sympathized with mothers, and delighted to share with them the caresses of the children.
Her husband, although possessing not her intelligence and elevation of mind, nor actuated by the principle that directed the energies of his amiable wife, yet was induced, by her unostentatious usefulness, and evident success in her plans, to accede to most of the humane innovations she proposed to him; convinced, by her arguments, that it would be his interest to be humane. Hence, their plantation exhibited a picture of comfort seldom seen, and their slaves had every appearance of health. They were allowed wholesome provision in ample quantity, with as much fruit as they wished; they had the liberty of keeping poultry, and to cultivate a piece of ground with esculent roots; their huts were comfortable, and when sick they experienced the kindest attention; and they were frequently suffered to associate with each other in little parties, for recreation and amusement.
Such were the proprietors of the poor Imihie and her hapless boy, who soon began to find the benefit of kind treatment; and it is probable, had Providence ordained that it should have been enjoyed, immediately after landing on a foreign shore, that the miseries of the voyage, and even the horrors of bondage, might have been overcome by youth, and that wonderful buoyancy of the human mind, that seems to force itself above the swelling waves of misfortune. But the arrow had sunk too deep: its barb had been too powerfully poisoned, for human effort to withdraw, or to antidote it. Imihie was evidently the victim of that disease which hurries to an untimely grave, so many individuals of her hapless country; and which, throughout the world, may be termed, although not yet classed, a broken heart. The first symptom of this disorder among negroes, became evident; namely, the black and glossy skin assumed an olive hue, the tongue became white, and the poor sufferer became overpowered by such a desire to sleep, that it was found impossible to resist it, a deadly faintness preventing the smallest exercise. In fact, a languor and general relaxation of the whole wonderful machinery of the human frame, seems to threaten death day by day, yet the sufferer still survives. So great is the state of despondency accompanying this distressing malady, that those afflicted will suffer themselves to be beaten, rather than attempt to move or walk. Happy was it for Imihie that she had not a task-master’s whip to dread; and that the loathing which she had for mild and wholesome food, was not attributed to obstinacy, but to what it really was, a symptom of the disease which was insiduously undermining the vital principles of life. It made rapid advances upon her delicate and youthful frame: her respiration became laborious and painful, the extremities became swollen, and suffocation seemed frequently to impede the action of the heart. In this state she languished and suffered several months; but Imihie had her consolations, under an infliction, the natural consequence of melancholy upon the organs of the human frame.
We have said, that the humanity and enlightened reason of the excellent Mrs. Delany, were derived from a high source; even from that source which exalts feeling to a principle: the one is frequently as transient as the excitement, the other is founded upon a firm basis; offering a permanent and pure incentive to action, by adding a value to existence, as connecting it with a future. Such is one of the many blessed fruits of a Christian faith. Mrs. Delany felt its commanding power: she was a Christian in deed. Hers was not a speculative creed, but a practical code: it was her daily, hourly study to act upon.
It is true, Jamaica, at the period of our narrative, enjoyed not the high privileges it now possesses of Christian instruction, and of Christian example; but Mrs. Delaney was one amongst the few, who, feeling and enjoying the light and the consolation of religion, were anxious to impart a portion of what cheered their own hearts—of that which directed their steps, to those who yet “sat in darkness and the shadow of death.” Deeply interested in her hapless slave, from the moment she saw her, Mrs. Delaney had soothed, by truly maternal attention, her bodily sufferings, and her mental anguish. She inwardly deplored her total ignorance of that grand source of consolation, the knowledge of which was so open to those who despised it. She gently prepared the feelings and the understanding for the reception of that light, which she fervently prayed might be imparted to her benighted mind. She gradually led her docile steps, her mental view, to Him who invites the heavy laden to resort to him for rest; to seek Him who is the strength and the fortress of those that trust in him; to adore, with unfeigned humility, that transcendent mercy, which became poor that we might be rich. What heart is there, bereft of all earthly good, all earthly hope, but must expand with joy, to receive into its most inmost recesses the precious promises of Christianity?—of that mild and beneficent religion, which so tenderly sympathizes with every emotion of the weak, the frail, the lacerated bosom? Was it then surprising, that the poor Imihie, with feelings too powerful for utterance, hung upon the mild accents of Mrs. Delaney, as she described to her the sufferings of the Redeemer—the abyss of wretchedness from which he rescued mankind—the dreadful penalty from which he saved a rebellious world? Was it surprising, that, with an eager gratitude, which gave a heavenly expression to her languid eyes, and displayed itself in every varying feature, she listened to the glorious truths of revelation, unfolded in terms suited to her expanding capacity; and that, with all the simplicity of unsophisticated nature, receiving the noblest impressions of Deity, she bade Mrs. Delaney thank her great good God for his marvellous kindness to wretched captives, and for the unsearchable riches of his grace. Never was she wearied in hearing her kind instructress recount the sufferings of the incarnate God: tears, the offspring of genuine feeling, chased each other down her altered countenance, as Mrs. Delaney directed her imagination to the garden of Gethsemane, to the judgment-hall, where He, whose throne is heaven, and his footstool earth, was exposed to insult, contumely, and scorn; scourged, buffeted, spit upon; betrayed by one friend, denied by another, and abandoned by all; subjected to a painful, a cruel, and an ignominious death, in the presence of insulting foes: the very spirit clouded by the momentary abandonment of heavenly aid, forcing from the lips of the sufferer the agonizing exclamation: “My God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?” and all this for the love he bore for those who became his murderers.
Thus would Mrs. Delaney, in language suited to the capacity of her pupil, recount the affecting history of our Redeemer, and gradually open her mind (aided by the Spirit of grace constantly implored to direct her) to the grand truths of the gospel. The soul of the dying Imihie imbibed the soothing balm, felt the powerful energy, and gladly received the consolation the religion of Jesus alone has power to give. Her tears, it is true, still flowed for Africa, and for TumiÁh; but they were no longer bitter tears. The heavenly ray which had been communicated to her soul, had not only enlightened it, but stilled its perturbations; and captivity was deprived of its horrors, in the enjoyment of those lively instructions in the way of holiness and peace, so impressively imparted by her truly Christian mistress.
Often when administering some relief to her bodily suffering, Mrs. Delaney would ask her how she felt herself. She would say, with a serene smile, “weak, weak; but joy, joy here,” laying her hand on her bosom, then pressing that of her compassionate benefactress. No murmur, no complaint, proceeded from her lips; but her mind appeared ever tranquil, and her soul happy. Sometimes, indeed, while caressing Samboe, the tear would swell in her eyes; but she had learned the comprehensive prayer, “Lord, let thy will be done!” and a frequent, affecting repetition of it, while she pressed her boy to her bosom, spoke volumes to the sympathizing Mrs. Delaney.
During this daily increase of spiritual strength, her frame gradually sunk under the pressure of her disease, which resisted every tried means of relief, and finally came to its usual termination; viz. suffocation. Thus closed the mortal career of the youthful Imihie, one of the many thousands of victims to a commerce, which, it is feared, the mercenary will always cling to; in which desperate men will ever be found to hazard; and, even in Africa, tyrants ever be ready to supply the horrid market; (Note Q.) while few, it is to be feared, will, like the poor Imihie, after a series of misery, find a Mrs. Delaney to soothe their sorrows, and point to realms where all tears shall be wiped away, and sorrow and sighing shall flee for ever.
To Heaven the Christian negress sent her sighs,
In morning vows, and evening sacrifice;
She pray’d for blessings to descend on those
Who dealt to her the cup of many woes;
Thought of her home in Africa forlorn,
Yet, while she wept, rejoic’d that she was born:
Ennobling virtue fix’d her hopes above,
Enlarg’d her heart, and sanctified her love.
With lowly steps the path of peace she trod,
A happy pilgrim, for she walk’d with God.
Montgomery, (adapted.)