Second Daughter

by Walter, Mildred Pitts;

  Bett looked at the mistress, who was staring Bett in the face. “Yes, Master Reeves, she is not the kind person she wants people to believe she is. I have been in her household many years and was never paid one pence. We work six days a week and sometimes on the seventh. But whether she is kind or not, the constitution says we have rights to our freedom.”

  “No further questions,” Mr. Reeves said.

  Master Noble stood and said, “Bett, you sit here well dressed, in good health, with nothing to even hint at your being anything but blessed to be a servant of the Ashleys.” There was applause and sounds of “Hear, hear!”

  The judge pounded on his desk. “There must be order in this court. Continue, Mr. Noble.”

  “You know your master and mistress have been good to you, haven’t they, Bett?”

  “I object,” Lawyer Reeve said. “Whether they were good to her is not the question here.”

  “Objection sustained.”

  “Your honor, my worthy opponent asked if she had been abused. May I rephrase the question? What proof can you give to this court of Mistress Ashley’s abuse?” Lawyer Noble asked.

  My sister looked at the mistress, then at the judge. She did not answer. Was she afraid, thinking What if we lost? What would the master and mistress do to us? I felt cold sweat rolling down my sides. In that room that had been almost unbearably warm, I became chilled.

  Suddenly Bett squared her shoulders. Without saying a word, she rolled up her sleeve and bared the wound. It was still scarlet with the healing pulling the muscles tight, making the arm twist out of shape, limiting its range of movement. She held her arm so that all could see. There was a gasp in the audience.

  Lawyer Noble rushed to the mistress. Lawyer Canfield joined him, and they whispered in conversation with her. The mistress lowered her head when her lawyer said, almost in a whisper, “I have no further questions.”

  The judge asked if there were other witnesses and questions. Both sides said, “No, your honor.” Then the judge gave final instructions to the jury: “You have heard arguments in this case. You are bound by the law, only by the law, that has been presented here, not by pity and sympathy for either side. It is your duty to determine if the idea of slavery is not in keeping with our own conduct and with our constitution, and that, therefore, there can be no such thing as life servitude of a rational creature.” Then he said, “We’ll hear your closing statements now.”

  In his closing statement, Master Noble reminded the jury of Master Ashley’s outstanding citizenship. “He is one who sits in judgment and knows the law. Would he break the laws that he so proudly administers? I say no, he would not.” He went on and on.

  “Gentlemen of the jury, Master and Mistress Ashley have every right to hold on to their servants, as all of our history declares. The Ashleys along with other great men, Thomas Jefferson, our great General Washington, and many others, hold slaves. Are they not good law-abiding citizens? They know that these people are not capable of caring for themselves. If freed, how will they live? Will their freedom make them wards of the state, so that you and I will have to care for them? Let Master Ashley continue to keep his servants, for we all know he is a good kind master. I rest my case.”

  The applause from the crowd was hammered down by the gavel in the judge’s hand. I was so angry and upset that I missed the beginning of Lawyer Reeve’s closing.

  “… There are some things in our history that Mr. Noble did not dare talk about that have happened in this very state of Massachusetts and this Berkshire County. Many of you remember the meeting held in the town of Sheffield where even some of you approved without a single ‘nay’ these words: ‘Resolved that Mankind in a State of Nature are equal, free and independent of each other, and have a right to the undisturbed enjoyment of their lives, their liberty and their property.’

  “One of those men who hold slaves, Thomas Jefferson, echoed your feelings in the Declaration of Independence when he wrote, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ You continued that idea in your state constitution with a bill of rights.”

  I was so happy when he told them that Bett was a midwife and Brom a herdsman, who could certainly take care of themselves. There was some laughter when he mentioned how long Bett and Brom had worked and the folly of the idea that they couldn’t look after themselves. But the place got real quiet when he came to the end.

  “I say that the city of Sheffield and Berkshire County, the first to have a meeting and a petition on ending slavery and on declaring in favor of independence from the king, is no place where a citizen can be called law abiding if he claims ownership of another human being.

  “Gentlemen of the jury, make the Declaration of Independence and your state constitution meaningful in our lives now. Declare that no title to a slave is valid, and grant Brom and Bett their liberty so that they may pursue happiness. I rest my case.”

  There was no applause, but the silence was complete. The judge waited; no one stirred. “The jury will now convene.” He called the bailiff, who escorted the jury to a room where they could decide the verdict.

  What would happen now? I thought of the applause when Lawyer Noble said that Bett looked anything but mistreated. What if they agree with the master that he has a right to us as his property? I can’t go back to that house. But where will I go?

  In spite of my worry and fears, time did not drag, and before two hours had passed the bailiff announced that the session would begin again. “All rise.” The judge entered.

  After we were all seated, the judge asked the jury foreman, “Have you reached a verdict?”

  The foreman replied, “We have, Your Honor.”

  My heartbeat could be seen in my chest and my hands were clammy with sweat. Oh, God, let them. Please let them say we’re free.

  “We find for the plaintiffs. The said Brom and Bett are not and were not legally Negro servants of him, the said John Ashley, during life. We further assess thirty shillings, lawful silver money damages.”

  Did I hear right? I looked at the mistress. Her face was red with anger. Then I looked at my sister, who was smiling and embracing her lawyers. I wanted to join her and Brom up front to share that moment, but the judge was banging his gavel. “Order, order! I adjudge and determine in accordance with the jury’s verdict that Brom and Bett are free. I accept the jury’s recommendation that the Ashleys pay Brom and Bett thirty shillings damages. In addition, the court assesses the Ashleys the cost of this suit, five pounds, fourteen shillings, and four pence. This court is adjourned.”

  Finally, the four of us were together. “We are free!” Bett cried. “Can you believe it, free.” We all four hugged each other and tears of joy flowed. We cried and cried. Tears for Baaba, for Yaaye, for Josiah, for Olubunmi, and for our five brothers, Africa, Cuff, Titus, Quam, and Prince.

  I knew that the status of the child was that of the mother. Little Bett was also free. There was nothing said about me. My fear returned that the mistress had no use for me and would insist that I be sold.

  26

  Before we had time to really celebrate, the worst blow that could ever fall fell upon us. Lawyer Sedgwick told Bett that the master had not accepted the verdict and that she and Brom would have to go to a higher court and present their case before they could be declared free.

  How could that be! All the old fears returned. We could not sleep or eat. We sat around in silence, feeling that it all had been for nothing. When Sarah came to celebrate the winning of the first round, she sensed our sadness and tried to cheer us up. “I have a feeling,” she said, “that the master is going to call this whole thing off. You know Zach Mullen, the quiet, don’t-want-to-be-bothered one? He didn’t show up for his trial that was also scheduled during the session of this court. Maybe he and the master made a deal out of court. You got the master on the run. Besides, bein
g a former judge, he knows that the Supreme Judicial Court has already ruled for Quok Walker in Worcester. By the time they come to Berkshire County, everyone will know that slavery is unconstitutional.” The State Supreme Court would not convene in Berkshire County until October.

  That was not enough for my sister. She had heard Master Ashley claim the right of property, and we were his property. She knew that he was an outstanding businessman who had not become powerfully rich by giving away what he owned. And she had seen his strong will against the constable. She continued to work for Lawyer Sedgwick and to hold her head high, but I knew she was frightened. However, Sarah was right.

  Two weeks before the second trial, Colonel Ashley dropped his appeal and accepted the decision that Brom and Bett were not slaves. He agreed to pay both of them thirty shillings lawful money damage and the cost of the suit: five pounds, fourteen shillings, and four pence. My sister and brother were, indeed, free.

  Oh, the shouting and praise giving! Friends came with food and congratulations. It was a glorious day. Of course I was happy for them. But my fear was overwhelming, for nothing had been decided about me, and every minute I waited for the master to come and say that the mistress wanted me back. Finally Bett, seeing my gloom, said, “Of all people, I thought you would shout the loudest.”

  “Why? The master said I could go, but if the mistress so chooses, I must return. Besides, I must pay him for my freedom.”

  “Aissa, minyiyo”—for the first time she called me younger sister in our mother’s tongue—“the constitution says that slavery is illegal. You are no longer a slave. You are free.”

  “Bett, is that true, really true?” I cried.

  “It is true!”

  All those years I had imagined what it would be like to live those words, I am free! Now I didn’t know any words to describe what freedom meant, and I didn’t try to find any.

  Epilogue

  Out of necessity, I have shared my most private experiences. I have tried to join my life with the forces of history to create for, myself a name, a personality, unique unto me alone. I know that I didn’t just happen. I was born; my forebears had names, and a language; they had a culture, a way of life. I now have a name, my claim that I stake against the world. No longer will I panic over going nameless up and down the streets of others’ minds. My name is Aissa! Bett took the name Elizabeth Freeman and her child became Ayisha.

  The question arises, what are you doing now? The master denied his claim on me, but he gave me no money for all my years of servitude. With a gift of money from my sister and brother, I moved to Boston. I have a job in the home of a well-to-do merchant. I live in a boardinghouse with other African women my age.

  Boston is an overwhelming town. I am grateful that I can read and know what is going on. With all the worry about our freedom, we didn’t pay much attention to the war. But the Colonials won, and the thirteen colonies have now become united states.

  Sarah and I keep in touch through letters. She tells me what is happening in and around Sheffield. My sister continues to work for the Sedgwicks. She found no cure for the wife but, Sarah said, “Elizabeth, knowing that the body, the mind, and the spirit are one, brought her mistress great relief. Your sister uses just the right herbs that relax and soothe the nerves, and the mistress can go for months at a time without an attack. It seems as though with Elizabeth’s warm baths, special foods, and encouragement, the patient has been able to open up and express how she really feels. She has gone so far as to write her husband telling him how difficult is his being away leaving her alone to care for the children.

  “The children love your sister because she’s kind to their mother and accepts her as she is. They all call your sister ‘Mum Bett.’”

  Each day I give thanks for my sister—moni ma faatuma debbo—what a woman! I am grateful to my brother, and to Olubunmi, who gave me life and a guide to live it well; to Sarah, who gave me the most wonderful gift, the secret treasure of words. I give thanks for the lawyers who helped us get our freedom.

  Some say that Brom & Bett v. Ashley was the case that ended slavery. Others say it was Quok Walker v. Jennison. It doesn’t matter. Fact: It happened. Both cases ended slavery in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and started the long hard road to slavery’s abolition.

  No. Slavery is not ended. There has been nothing in the papers about these cases; so many people are unaware that the Supreme Court of our state has made a solemn decision based on the state constitution and the bill of rights that slavery is illegal. I wonder. How many slaves are out there still not knowing that they are legally free?

  Now, for the first time in my life, I can say I’m happy. I am learning to speak Fulfulde, my mother’s language. As I walk the streets I remind myself of what Olubunmi and my sister knew so well: Say no to bondage and no one can keep you a slave. And I have now learned that no one can set you free. Freedom is living with realities in a way that they don’t overcome you. And as my mother would say, “Tiigaade! Faa o waawa hoore mum!”—“Hold on steady! Until we know ourselves, we will never be free!”

  Historical Note

  The talk of independence and equality that preceded and continued during the Revolutionary War caused many blacks, both as individuals and groups, to petition for their freedom from 1773 to 1779.

  One such petition, in the “Province of Massachusetts Bay To His Excellence, Thomas Hutchinson, Esq: Governor; To the Honorable His Majesty’s Council, and to the Honorable House of Representatives in General Court assembled at Boston, the 6th day of January, 1773,…” was a group petition signed by a black named Felix.

  Another, in Boston in April 1773, on behalf of fellow slaves in the province, and by order of the committee, was signed by Peter Bestes, Sambo Freeman, Felix Holbrook, and Chester Joie. In 1777, the Honorable Counsel of [Representatives] for the State of Massachusetts Bay in General Court assembled on January 13 were petitioned again by a “great number of Blacks detained in a state of slavery in the Bowels of a free & Christian Country.…”

  During the Revolution, from 1779 to 1784, slaves protested and gained their freedom through service in the war and through the flight of Tory masters.

  In the preceding account, Bett’s fictional sister, who was between fifteen and seventeen at the time, confesses her role in these events. Where records have been kept of names of people involved, I have taken the liberty to use those names. For most slaves no record of names was found, and therefore I have given names which I imagined were appropriate for newly arrived Africans to the American colonies in the 1600s and 1700s. I have used names that were known in history, but not necessarily for the activities stated here. Although Lemuel Haynes, Agrippa Hull, Felix Holbrook, Salem Poor, and Peter Salem were all outstanding black contemporaries of Elizabeth Freeman, I have no indication that they ever met.

  The slave petitions are from Herbert Aptheker’s A Documentary History of the Negro People in the United States. (New York: The Citadel Press, 1951.)

  The opening statement made at the trial for Brom and Bett was taken from an account of the trial in the William And Mary Quarterly, Third Series, Vol. XXV, No. 4, October 1968.

  My thanks to Milton Meltzer, who shared the many pages of research that he had done on this subject, and to Jacqueline Middlehoek-Sainsbury for her help with the Dutch language, and to David Abdula for sharing his Fulfulde language.

  About the Author

  Mildred Pitts Walter (b. 1922) grew up in Louisiana. She was the first member of her family to attend college, and then became a teacher and a civil rights activist. As a book reviewer for the Los Angeles Times, Walter noticed that there were few books about African Americans, especially for children, and decided to write them herself. She has written over twenty books for children, and has been heralded for her compelling portraits of African American family life. Walter was awarded the Coretta Scott King Award for Justin and the Best Biscuits in the World, and Because We Are and Trouble’s Child were Coretta Scott King Honor Books.
She was inducted into the Colorado Women’s Hall of Fame in 1996. Walter now lives in Denver.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1996 by Mildred Pitts Walter

  Cover design by Connie Gabbert

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-2788-5

  This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

  EARLY BIRD BOOKS

  FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY

  BE THE FIRST TO KNOW—

  NEW DEALS HATCH EVERY DAY!

  EBOOKS BY MILDRED PITTS WALTER

  FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA

  Available wherever ebooks are sold

  Open Road Integrated Media is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.

  Videos, Archival Documents, and New Releases

  Sign up for the Open Road Media newsletter and get news delivered straight to your inbox.

  Sign up now at

  www.openroadmedia.com/newsletters

  FIND OUT MORE AT

  WWW.OPENROADMEDIA.COM

  FOLLOW US:

  @openroadmedia and