“Bett, you know that your master is my friend. He is good to his servants, and both he and your mistress think the world of you. They always brag about what a good servant you are and how they could not do without your help.”
Bett smiled and I thought, Surely Bett knows we are not servants; we are slaves, and the master and mistress are not good to us.
The lawyer went on, “Besides, there being no specific law, I’m afraid I would not want to take a case against a fine, outstanding citizen who is also a judge.”
“Maybe there is no law. But the people wanted a law to say that slavery is wrong. Twice they asked for such a law, and the king and his governors said no,” Bett said.
As she was speaking, the lawyer, Tapping Reeve, was led into the room. “Why, Tapping, how good to see you. Bear with me,” Lawyer Sedgwick said. “These people will be leaving in a minute.”
“I’m in your area on a case and wanted to say hello. Don’t let me interrupt what must be business.” He turned to Bett. “I run into you everywhere in this town.”
“She is quite a person, a good servant to our friend Judge Ashley.”
“Slave, not servant,” I said.
Bett gave me a withering look and said, “Mr. Reeve, my sister is for saying aloud what she thinks. Please don’t mind her.”
“So am I, and there is a difference between servant and slave,” Reeve said.
“Yes,” Sedgwick said, “and, Tapping, knowing you, it may be of interest that Bett is here seeking freedom under our state’s constitution. I told her that there is nothing specific in that document that grants a slave’s right to freedom.”
“Hmm, that is most interesting,” Reeve answered.
“It is interesting, but I hesitate because she has no complaints of any abuse. Her master is a good, kind man who does justice by his servants.”
Why does he keep saying “servants”? I wondered. We are slaves! I wanted to remind him again. He went on. “There is absolutely no proof that there has been abuse.”
I waited for Bett to show them that ugly wound. Bett sat, her chest rising and falling; she was like a dam filled to overflowing. Show them! I wanted to shout to her. Then Bett said, “Words describing a good and kind master do not go together when talking about slavery.” Her voice broke as she said, “With or without wounds, we deserve to be free.”
“Please,” I said, looking at Bett crying, “my sister is not crying for your pity. She wants only justice, which she feels can come in that bill of rights.”
“Maybe we can make hers the test case to see if your constitution with its bill of rights is more than words—a working law capable of ending slavery,” Reeve said.
“We might be able to do something by appealing to the sentiments of the people as Bett has suggested, and this time end this slave business under the constitution,” Master Sedgwick said.
“I’ll be happy to join you in defense of her. But can a woman stand in your courts?” Reeve asked.
Bett spoke quickly. “My brother, Brom, here is willing to stand, sir, and the money you were kind enough to help me get will pay the fees.”
“Oh, don’t worry about money,” Sedgwick said. “If we win we’ll insist that Colonel Ashley pay the fees and pay you something, too. This case can be a groundbreaker.”
As we were leaving, the woman on the cot beckoned to Bett, and Bett urged us to go on as she went to speak to her. We walked the miles back and Brom and I said little. “Servants,” he said, and nothing more, and I knew what he meant.
We were anxious to get back, but Bett took her time coming. What if the master came looking for us and found her at the Sedgwicks’? When Bett finally came, she reported, “That woman was Master Sedgwick’s wife. She is in bad shape in both body and mind. Her baby is less than a year old and she’s expecting another. I think I’ll go and help her.”
“How can you think of helping somebody when you don’t know what the master is up to? How do you know we won’t be going to jail or be sold off somewhere?”
“He wouldn’t dare. He’s too well known and wouldn’t want people to know that his wife had done such a thing. Besides, he is a judge himself, and has to respect the law.”
“What law? They keep telling you we are under no law,” I said heatedly, for knowing Bett I was afraid she might take this too lightly.
“They said they would take the case, so I am not going to worry. I must heal my arm.” That was that. She refused to talk anymore about what we were going to do.
When we arrived at the master’s, Sarah was waiting for us in our quarters. “The mistress is very angry that you were allowed to go away. ‘How do you know what they’re up to?’ she screamed to the master. She was so afraid you were not coming back. Don’t be surprised if she tightens the noose.”
For days we were there as prisoners, working around the place with our hearts not in the work and our minds on nothing but being free. This went on day after day, with the master and Little John now keeping guard over us. Bett, because of the wound, did little work.
Two weeks later, the sheriff came with a court order to remove Bett and Brom. The order stated that the two were being held against their will and could not be so detained unless they were taken by the court for a crime such as murder. The master had to state why he was holding them.
The master flatly refused to let them go. He stated his reason: Bett and Brom were his servants for life and he claimed a right to their servitude.
After the sheriff had come three times with an order to free them, and the master refused each time, on May 28, 1781, the stage was set for the matter to come to trial. The court ordered release, but only if Bett and Brom could post bond to guarantee that their case would continue.
My sister was happy that she had enough for the bond, but worried about paying the lawyers. The bond was paid. Bett and Brom were freed, and the sheriff issued a summons to the Ashleys to appear at the next regular session of the Court of Common Pleas on August 21. Little Bett, taking on the status of her mother, was allowed to go.
“What about me?” I asked the master when my sister and brother were released.
“The mistress will decide.”
My heart felt swollen in my chest as it beat rapidly, and I felt weak. How could he put my fate in the hands of the mistress? He knew how she became like a whirlwind in a closet when I was around. This would be worse than Barbados. I did something that I had thought I would never do. “Please, master, let me live with my sister. You know that the mistress never wanted me. And I don’t believe she is happy with me here. Please, let me go.”
“Go. I will talk to the mistress, and if she wants you back, you will come. In the meantime you must understand that you owe me, and I expect you to pay, for the years of service you still have ahead.”
I thought I would faint, but I held on. “Thank you, and I do understand.”
25
We stayed at the house. Bett went about her duties with her arm loosely bandaged to keep air flowing to the wound. Whenever someone asked what was wrong with it, she replied, “Ask the mistress Ashley.” She spent much of her time at the Sedgwicks’, trying to get the children’s mother well enough to perform the duties left to her when her husband was away, which was most of the time.
Brom and I worked our small plot and cleared more land around us that seemed to belong to no one, since much of the Indian land had been added to Sheffield and Great Barrington. I used my farming skills, making our plot look like the master’s. We planted wheat, corn, squash, and potatoes, and cultivated the wild grapes and berries and apple trees on the place. We had only three maple trees, but if we were there the next spring we planned to bleed them and make syrup and sugar.
Little Bett blossomed, and I became her mother while Bett went daily to the Sedgwicks’ and to other jobs. We were all grateful for work in the day. Our nights were spent wondering what was going to happen. I talked to Little Bett about freedom, and about that whispering man who was going to use t
he law to set us free.
We waited. Then one day Sarah came by. “The mistress is drowning in her sorrow. She can’t pull herself together. She’s now even claiming that Bett is the best cook in the world, not to mention housekeeper, nurse, and rippler of flax. When people ask what happened, she blames it all on you, Aissa, and your devilish ways.”
“I hope she never asks me to come back,” I said.
“They have been served notice that Bett and Brom are suing for their freedom. I think they are afraid to react, for the law is not clear. So they’re waiting until their day in court. The master’s hired David Noble from around here and John Canfield of Connecticut, two fine lawyers. I think, however, he was stunned when his good friend, Theodore Sedgwick, took Bett’s case and was joined by, of all people, Tapping Reeve, the best lawyer anywhere. Master Ashley has even resigned his judgeship.”
“What is the mistress saying about all of this? She was proud to be a judge’s wife,” I said.
“The mistress is as mad as a wet hen. She dislikes the Sedgwicks. Claims he’s haughty though his father was nothing but a humble shopkeeper. His brother had to sacrifice to send him to Yale. She says his wife is insane and can do nothing but have babies. In a special place in the house she even lets him keep a picture of his first wife, who died of chicken pox. Can you believe that? Ask Bett if that’s true.”
“My sister never talks about her patients. His wife is her patient now. If we learn the truth, it won’t be from Bett.”
In June of 1781, Bett came home with news that a slave, Quok Walker, had brought suit against his master, Nathaniel Jennison, for assault, and had won. Before Bett could finish telling us, Sarah, to our surprise, came to see us, bringing a cake, some homemade rum, and apple cider. “Celebration time,” she said. She had heard the news at the Ashleys’. We had a great time and felt sure that Bett and Brom would win, and we all would be free.
Ayisha was now nine years old and a good worker. She had her father’s smile, his good singing voice, and her mother’s quiet poise; but there were moments, when she was crossed, she showed some of the fire that burned in me. I loved this child more than myself, and we worked well together.
Finally, in late August, word came that the court would, indeed, meet in Great Barrington on the twenty-first. Early on that morning, Brom, Bett, Little Bett, and I started the six-mile journey to Great Barrington. We dressed in our nicest calico, for the day was warm with the promise of heat ahead. Not knowing what to expect, we walked at a steady pace in silence. My mind was filled with doubts and fear. What if the court found no reason to free us and sent us back to the master? I tried to focus on the surroundings and the quiet of the forest, but I could not let go of the fear.
When we arrived at the court, Tapping Reeve greeted us. “Bett, it shouldn’t be too long before we will be heard. The judge will hear arguments from the Ashleys’ lawyer and from our side. You and Brom will sit up front with me. We will find a place in the back of the courtroom for your sister and your little girl. We are hoping that there will be enough people to serve on the jury and we will have no problem in the selection.”
“Why would there be a problem?” Bett asked, alarmed.
“The Ashleys are prominent, well known. Some men might be reluctant to serve on a case that involves them. There are some who might want jobs, others who might be involved in trade with them. But don’t you worry. I’m sure we’ll work things out all right.”
Little Bett and I were left in the back of the room on a hard bench. At the front of the room were two tables with chairs, one table on each side of the room. On the left were twelve chairs fenced in like a box. On the right side near the front wall were a table and chair raised up so that the person in the chair could be seen.
People, mostly men, gathered slowly. I heard them greeting each other outside, but as they entered the room, they became quiet. Some looked at me and Little Bett as if surprised, but they said nothing. An occasional cough was the only sound. What had happened to Bett and Brom? I wondered.
Suddenly a door opened, and Bett and Brom with lawyers Sedgwick and Reeve came into the room and sat at the table near the twelve seats. Then the master and mistress came in with their lawyers and sat on the opposite side. She wore a soft voile dress with small black-and-white dots, and a large white hat with bright red flowers, and red shoes. The master wore a white suit. There was a flutter of greetings in the room when they arrived. Soon a banging noise from a wooden mallet sounded and a booming voice said, “All rise!”
Little Bett and I stood with the others until a small man with a beaklike nose entered the room. He was wearing a long black robe and a white wig with big curls that almost covered his face. When he sat in the raised chair, we were asked to be seated.
Things began to happen right away. Lawyers Noble and Canfield called for a dismissal of the case on the grounds that “the said Brom and Bett, are and were at the time of the original writ, the legal Negro servants of the said John Ashley during their lives, and the said John Ashley is ready to verify, and hereof prays the judgment of this court, that the said suit may be abated.”
Lawyers Reeve and Sedgwick replied, “This suit should not be abated because Brom and Bett are not legal Negro servants or servants of John Ashley during their lives.”
“There seems to be enough evidence to warrant a full hearing of this case. Let us proceed,” the judge said.
Men were called from the audience and asked to give their names and tell what kind of work they did. Then Lawyer Sedgwick and one of Master Ashley’s lawyers began to ask them questions. Were they property holders? “Do you feel that a person has the right to hold another in servitude?” Lawyer Sedgwick asked one man.
The man replied, “The Bible, the very word of God, says we have the right to hold those who are less than us in slavery, and according to that same Bible slaves are meant to obey their masters whether the masters are good or evil.”
Finally they had questioned about seventeen of the men in the room. Three without property were dismissed immediately. The lawyers talked to each other and then lawyer Canfield, for the Ashleys, and Sedgwick, for my sister, talked to the judge. The room was quiet, but the heated talk between the lawyers and the judge could not be heard. Then two more men, including the one who had said God intended for there to be masters and slaves, were told they were not needed for jury service.
When twelve men were finally settled in the jury box, the judge gave them their first instruction: Listen to both sides of the arguments in order to make a decision based on those arguments and not on their own opinions. Then the bailiff of the court stood with papers in hand and read a long statement about why the court was in session. I understood little of what he said except that the master had refused the orders of the court to release Bett and Brom because they were his servants for life. The court was to decide whether or not John Ashley had a claim on said Bett and Brom as his servants for life.
After the reading, the judge turned to the lawyers. “Are the plaintiffs ready to present evidence and witnesses?”
“We are, your honor,” Master Reeves said. He moved away from the table and stood between the jury and the judge. “We will be brief. John Ashley, a well-known citizen in this state, held Brom and Bett against their will in bondage without pay. We intend to prove that under the Massachusetts Constitution and under the Declaration of Independence of the United States, he has no legal right to hold said Brom and Bett.”
Then Master Noble stood. “Your honor, we will prove that John Ashley and his wife, Anna Ashley, are kind, caring master and mistress to their servants; that Judge John Ashley, whom even my opponent admits is an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, has the right to hold slaves as property, as do many outstanding citizens, such as our General Washington, and Thomas Jefferson, who helped write our noble Declaration of Independence.”
I looked at the twelve men in the jury box and wondered what they were thinking. Would enough of them think like Master Reeve? O
r did they think, like Master Noble, that they had the right to keep us slaves forever?
Master Noble called Master Ashley to the stand and questioned him: How had he come to own us? Had he seen to it that we were well fed, clothed, and housed? Had he seen to it that we were changed from heathens to Christians? The master answered, “Yes, I have.” When Master Reeves said he had no questions, Master Noble said, “I call Mistress Anna Ashley.”
There was a stir in the crowd as she made her way to the stand. As always, when she was in public, she was confident and assured. She seemed not to notice anything around her, except once to raise her eyes to the ceiling. She mopped her brow, suffering from the heat. “Will you describe to the court your relationship with your servant, Bett?” her lawyer asked.
“Bett is like one in my family. She was born on my father’s land and has been a servant of mine even before I married her master. We have never quarreled, and I have been nothing but kind to her.”
I was afraid I was going to start laughing, so I closed my ears and mind to her and held on to keep from being tossed out of the place. How could she sit there pretending that she was a good mistress? I looked at my sister, who sat upright and calm, and I wondered, if asked to disagree with the mistress, would she have the will to do so?
Master Reeves said he had no questions for the mistress and called Bett. I could tell that Bett was reluctant. He whispered something to her, and finally she came forward and sat in the seat where the mistress had sat. “Your honor,” Master Reeves said, “I would like to prove that the mistress Ashley is not the kind mistress she claims.” He then turned to the jury. “The issue here is not whether the Ashleys have been kind. The issue is, do they have the right to hold Bett and Brom as slaves for life?” He turned to Bett. “Has Mistress Ashley ever in any way abused you?”
My sister looked at the judge and then at Lawyer Reeves. She did not speak. The courtroom was hushed, waiting. Answer him! I wanted to say. Why didn’t she tell them and show the ugly wound on her arm?
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