Mr. Cosgrove’s manner had somewhat softened. Perhaps he thought on deliberation that the lady had some ground for complaint, or perhaps he considered it best to temporise. Be that as it may he suddenly exclaimed “you shall have your will, madam, they shall be sent away.”
Her countenance brightened and her eyes sparkled exultingly. She had triumphed. He had felt and acknowledged her power, he should feel and acknowledge it more, and she went on.
[“]They must not only be sent away, they must be sold far off— into another state—them and their children both. What do you say to that?”
“That you are very severe, but your wishes must be obeyed.”
“Immediately.”
“I suppose so.”
“And to whom will you sell them?”
[“]Oh; there are plenty of traders, who will be glad enough to get them.”
And thus they continued conversing untill Lilly having finished her toilet duties was dismissed for an hour. She told me of what had happened, and how Mr Cosgrove had promised to dismiss his favorites. Which promise he will never keep I replied. And then we had quite a little dispute about it.
Before many days elapsed a slave trader called. The beautiful girls were summoned to meet him, and came leading or bearing their lovely children. They wept bitterly and implored their master to kill rather than sell them. One of the children, a beautiful boy of three or four years run [ran] to Mr Cosgrove exclaiming “Why, pa you won’t sell, will you? you said that I was your darling and little man.”
“Go to your mother, child” said the cruel father.
At length one of the youngest and most beautiful, with an infant at her breast hastily dried her tears. Her eyes had a wild phrenzied look, and with a motion so sudden that no one could prevent it, she snatched a sharp knife which a servant had carelessly left after cutting butcher’s meat, and stabbing the infant threw it with one toss into the arms of its father. Before he had time to recover from his astonishment she had run the knife into her own body, and fell at his feet bathing them in her blood. She lived only long enough to say that she prayed God to forgive her for an act dictated by the wildest despair. Mr Cosgrove bent over her fondly and asked if she could forgive him? She smiled faintly, turned her eyes to the child which had breathed its last. A slight spasm, a convulsive shudder and she was dead. Dead, your Excellency, the President of this Republic. Dead, grave senators who grow eloquent over pensions and army wrongs. Dead ministers of religion, who prate because poor men without a moment[’]s leisure on other days presume to read the newspapers on Sunday, yet who wink at, or approve of laws that occasion such scenes as this.[”]
CHAPTER 15
Lizzy’s Story Continued
[“]The sale was completed, the gold paid, and Mrs Cosgrove from her windows beheld their departure. But even then the lady was not satisfied. She was rather disposed to watch her husband, and he was not pleased with the espionage. Her jealousy construed the minutest act of kindness, even a word or smile bestowed on a slave as something criminal. She could not bear that he should speak in terms of approval of the oldest and most faithful domestic. Especially was she disgusted that his notice of their children should extend to a caress or small presents of fruit and candy. All of a sudden to [she] took a notion to explore the house in its remotest corners. She might have expected the presence of a rival, or might have been stimulated by simple curiosity, but in company with Lilly she threaded the long galleries and winding passages, traversed the various suit[e]s of apartments, and came at last to a door that seemed to be fastened within. This only increased her anxiety, but there was neither crack nor crevice, nor key hole that could reveal its secrets. But it occurred to her that the rooms being in from their situation in the wing must be lighted by windows in the wall, and that ingress might be thus obtained, if in no other way. She was not a woman to be balked. Indeed her perseverance seemed sharpened by difficulties. She must and would know who or what that apartment contained. Did her husband then think to keep secrets from her? Was she to be excluded from certain parts of the house? She would teach him a lesson different from that. She had not come to America to be placed quietly under any man’s feet. Far from it. She would assert her rights, that she would; and it was her right to go all over the mansion, and into every chamber as she pleased. Perhaps a lurking idea that a rival might be concealed there stimulated her curiosity But whatever might Accordingly the servants were ordered to procure a ladder and place it against the windowsill she pointed out. They obeyed reluctantly, and she ascended, bidding Lilly follow her.
“Take care my dear mistress you will fall” said the child. And she came near it, never having been on a ladder before.
Looking in at the window she saw a well-furnished apartment, with chairs, a sofa, mirror work stand, and conspicuous in the midst a cradle, in which from the appearance two babies had been lying, as a pillow was placed at the head and another at the foot each bearing the impress, of a tiny form. Then there was a small cup in which a quain a quantity of arrow root had been prepared, besides linen and other baby necessaries. No one was within yet the room had apparently been recently occupied. There was a low fire on the hearth, and Mrs Cosgrove turning to Lilly inquired if she knew who inhabited the room. The child replied that she did not, and the mistress considering the mystery not half cleared up decided to enter and ascertain. The servants to their infinite surprise beheld her disappear through the window, but they saw not what followed. They saw not how bent on investigation she rushed into another chamber communicating with the first. They saw not what she saw there, a beautiful woman, so young and innocent, and dove-like that she seemed only a large child, with two children, twins, and as near alike as two cherries at her breast. In an instant Mrs Cosgrove comprehended the scene and the extent of her injury. Her husband, then, to his other crimes had united that of wil[l]ful falsehood, but with the strange inconsistency of human nature, her anger and revenge turned not so much against her husband as the helpless victims of his sensuality. Pale, and in an attitude of the profoundest sorrow and humiliation the young mother lifted her eyes to the face of her visitor, whom she recognised at once by her queenly bearing, and then with a mute glance at her children seemed to implore pity. Mrs Cosgrove had never been a mother. To jealousy in her bosom the fiercest feeling of envy united. All her well-bred politeness and courteous bearing vanished in a moment, and she more resembled a Fury of Orestes than a Christian woman.
Seizing the young mother by the hair she dragged her to the floor, demanding “who and what are you, and why are you here?” To which the terrified creature replied “A slave, a slave, nothing more.”
“That is a lie” she almost screamed. “A lie, and I know it. You are the favorite the minion of my husband. Are you not? Say: say.”
Mrs Cosgrove listened, shall we say she hoped to hear the slave answer in the negative. It would have been an infinite relief to her pride and inordinate self-esteem; for though caring little for him she had never loved him, her vanity was enlisted to secure his love. She felt outraged, scandalized and humiliated by his manifest preference for another, and had that other been her nearest and best friend she would have trampled and spit upon her, what favor then could a slave under such circumstances expect?
“It is true” said the wretched creature sobbing. “It is true that I have received favors from my master, but I couldn’t help it, indeed I couldn’t.”
“Oh you couldn’t, did you try, say did you try, and these children whose are they?”
The children were almost beneath her feet, kicking and screaming.
“Whose can they be, but mine” replied the tearful mother. They were two boys, with round fat cheeks, great blue eyes and plump little hands, quite as beautiful and fresh and healthy as if the most favored lady in the land had been their mother.
Mrs Cosgrove had released her hold of the mother, and now sate [sat] in a chair the very picture of contending passions. That she had made up her mind to some stern resol
ve was evident, though the nature of this it might be difficult to determine. She was a woman after all, and the heart of the proudest and sternest woman has a touch of weakness, if that which moves to compassion can be so termed. The female mind, likewise, though capable of the strongest passions and most violent emotions cannot long maintain their force and energies. They sink overcome by their own violence, and rising rapidly they as rapidly culminate. It was so with Mrs Cosgrove. She had lashed herself into a perfect fury, and now she felt almost to wonder at her own rashness. Then, too, the pale creature kneeling so meek and supplicant before her, her low pleading tones, her mute glances towards her children, and the infants themselves, helpless in their tiny helplessness appealing to every feeling and sentiment of generosity in a manner not to be entirely withstood by any heart retaining a vestige of humanity. All these had their effect though she would scarcely have acknowledged it to herself.
“If these children are yours, as you say, take them up, get their clothes and prepare to leave this house instantly” she said but in a manner calm and deliberate compared with her former violence.
“This roof” she continued “shall not shelter a minion of my husband, when I am beneath it, and if I know it.”
“But where shall I go?” inquired the mother taking up her babes. “Where shall I go? we shall perish along the road.”
“Anywhere, I care not” replied Mrs. Cosgrove. “I am not going to sell you, you can have liberty, freedom only go.”
“But my master.”
[“]Never mind your master, I am mistress of this house, and will be. No one, not even him, of whom you speak, shall thwart or interfere with my will. Get yourself and your children ready and be off. Steer right for the North, and never stop short of Canada. You will be safe then, and your infants will not inherit the curse of their mother’s slavery.”
And thus with an infant on each arm and a bundle of clothes at her back was this frail and delicate woman thrust from her home, and so inconsistent is the human heart that Mrs Cosgrove actually congratulated herself on having done a good action, and setting [sitting] in her sumptuous parlor and watching the poor creature toiling up the hill in the distance she observed to Lilly who was in attendance “Well I shall have the consolation of having once performed my duty in giving freedom to a poor slave. No one can say that I have not the English spirit and blood in me.”
Did it not occur to her that night when laying down on her splendid bed her splendid bed with snowy counterpanes and downy pillows that the poor freed slave with her tender infants had not where to lay her head? Did she think waking up the next morning that the one and preparing to breakfast daintily on soft rich cakes and golden butter, with luscious honey, strawberries melting in cream and the richest beverage that the one she had so unfeelingly dismissed had not a morsel wherewith to satisfy the cravings of nature, or support her strength under the most onerous maternal duty—that of providing nourishment for her off-spring. Did she remember when the dinner hour with its bright sun drew near that one whom she had driven out to be a wanderer might be fainting wearied and toil-worn beneath the roadside hedge? Far from it, she only thought, as she expressed it, that “the coast was clear” and exulted over the idea of her husband’s surprise and indignation when he ascertained the fact. Mr Cosgrove was absent, and had been for several days. On returning he went directly to the chamber of his mistress favorite. To his great astonishment it was deserted, and turned into a store-room. What could it mean? He ordered the overseer of his household and estate into his presence immediately, and inquired what had become of Evelyn and her babes.
“I shouldn’t wonder” replied the man “if they had furnished food for the vultures before now.”
“What do you mean?” inquired the anxious lover and parent. “No one has killed them certainly.” And his mind reverted to the threatening language employed by his wife.
“No one that I know of ” replied the overseer “but mistress, you must know, drove them away from here, and I don’t see how such a frail and delicate creature as Evelyn could bear such heavy children far, or—”
The man paused. He had just that moment discovered that his conversation had become a monologue. Cosgrove, long before the ending of the sentence, had sprung from the room and mounted hastily to the chamber of his wife. To seek, to upbraid her, and even to inflict some summary punishment upon her was evidently his first thought conceived in a moment of fierce anger. His fancy depicted Evelyn and her babes, those dear beautiful little boys, slowly dying through famine or exposure in some lane or ditch, with the vultures hovering over them, eager to begin their horrible banquet.
“Madam” he cried bursting wildly into her presence. “By what authority do you presume to interfere in my absence with my slaves? Who gave you the power to dismiss them so unceremoniously from my dwelling?”
“Indeed, Mr Cosgrove” exclaimed the lady, with a scornful scornful expression disfiguring her countenance “you present the model of an affectionate husband after a long absence whose first greetings of his wife is to demand by what authority she exercises her rights.”
“But you have no right to make away with my property, or conduct yourself contrary to my interests.”
“Pray, be seated, Mr Cosgrove” said the lady coolly who in her perfect self-satisfaction determined to keep down her temper. “Pray be seated. You are rich enough yet, and have plenty of these human cattle. Of what possible use could Evelyn be mewed up like a nun in that close chamber, and more than that Mr Cosgrove I tell you again as I told you before I will not suffer these creatures about the house, and no woman with the least particle of pride, or honor, or womanly feeling would.”
[“]And so you talk of pride, and honor and womanly feeling, do you? Heaven knows you have enough of the first, but was it womanly feeling that led you to thrust out a frail delicate female and her babes to certain exposure and famine, and almost certain death?”
“I gave them freedom it is true. If freedom implies starvation or death, it is not my fault, but their misfortune.”
“Madam, it is your fault. Evelyn did not desire freedom, and least of all the freedom you gave her.”
“No matter” answered the Lady “it was my will that she should have it, and so she has got it, and what necessity is there for your fuming and fretting about it. Did you really suppose that you could keep her here without my knowledge? that you could have such a secret about the house without my ascertaining and resenting its presence. If you did, Mr. Cosgrove, you know little of woman.”
And thus they bickered and quarreled without any hope or prospect of reconciliation. Their happiness ruined, their domestic peace a wreck.
Mr Cosgrove left the presence of his wife, and without speaking to any one, mounted a fleet charger, and rode away. He was absent two days, and returned as he went, without giving any information of his business, or where he had been. The servants said that he had been searching for Evelyn; they said, too, that he had found her; for he looked so pleased and gratified. Mrs Cosgrove probably expected as much, and she received him with the most chilling indifference, seeking rather to awe than win him to virtue. After that the absences of our master were many and prolonged. But he left disquietude at home in the heart of his wife. Her days and nights were blackened with the foulest suspicion. She had cleared the house of his favorites it is true, but she could not clear them from her imagination. They do come, they will come. She knows of a certainty that he has a secret now. She sees it in his countenance, in his eyes, in every crease of his garments. Even his bearing is less frank than formerly. His tread seems stealthy as if fearing to reveal something. She even thinks that he fears to meet her eye, and those suspicions and these various signs and tokens prompt her to dishonorable acts. She takes a strange fancy to nocturnal examinations of his letters to private researches in all manner of places, to listening behind doors, and watching at windows, to questioning slaves and even visitors. The haughty woman descends all at once from her high positi
on, and condescends to converse with any one, and every one, condescends to go to church, but the worshippers remark that she is restless and uneasy, and pays much more attention to the congregation than to the minister.
But untiring vigilance had its reward, and a mere accident discovered the secret, when all her plans had failed. The overseer mentioned to Mr Cosgrove in her hearing the name of “Rock Glen.” “Hush” replied her husband “never mention that place again, as the very walls have ears.”
“Rock Glen” the name was romantic, the place was doubtless picturesque. Where could it be? And why should the walls have ears especially to hear the mention of that? Too well her suspicions told her, but she summoned Lilly.
“Lilly do you think that I am your friend?”
“I hope so” said the beautiful girl.
“And do you perceive that I treat you differently from any one else?”
“You seem much gentler, and not so lofty.”
“It is my purpose, Lilly.”
“Your purpose.”
“I have a purpose for every thing I do. As a general thing I care little for kindness, but now I want a service, a small service that must be won from affection and for which money will not pay. Can you love me Lilly? Can you do this thing for me?”
“I can try” said Lilly. “If you can trust me.”
“I can, and do trust you” replied the Lady.
“And what would you have me do?” inquired Lilly whose curiosity began to be awakened.
“Find out for me where is the place called Rock Glen.”
“Is that all?[”] inquired the child simply.
“Not quite. You must be very nice and cunning about it. You must not for the world let any one know that I have sent you, or that I wish to know. Especially observe never to mention my name in connection with that, but find out and I will give you this.”
The Bondwoman's Narrative Page 24