ANTISLAVERY LITERATURE TEACHING GUIDE
The History of
Mary Prince
Joe Lockard
Arizona State University
January 2016
Teaching Guide for The History of Mary Prince Joe Lockard Introduction The History of Mary Prince appears at a turning point in the history of British slavery in the Caribbean. In 1831, the British colony of Jamaica witnessed the Baptist War – also known as the Great Jamaica Slave Revolt – in which 500‐600 people died, nearly all of them black slaves. This slave revolt hastened passage of the Abolition of Slavery Act of 1833 that provided for gradual emancipation for slaves over six years. There was generous compensation for slaveholders, none for the ex‐slaves whose labor had been stolen. One mode for exploitation of African labor was winding down and another was beginning. If British slavery was on the verge of ending, the injustices and human misery that slavery created remained far from a conclusion. We know Mary Prince’s story only as far as 1833, when she was a 45 year‐old woman in poor health and growing blind. Given the dispersion of her family across several Caribbean islands, it seems unlikely there was a family reunion – she was one of ten children – in her future and near‐certain that she spent the remainder of her life in poverty and domestic service. She may have been able to return to her husband in Antigua. We do not know and Prince fades into historical invisibility. The story that she left behind, probably the first published account by a black woman in Great Britain, represents one woman’s experience within a Caribbean history from which England took enormous profits at the cost of untold human lives. Mary Prince was a survivor of a brutal labor system that shortened many lives. Caribbean planters often said “Sugar is made from blood” and the same could be stated of the salt yards where Prince worked for a decade. The horrendous narrative that Mary Prince provided to her abolitionist allies in Birmingham became a political tool through its publication. The narrative is haunting in its recitation of suffering and pain. It well fit abolitionist imagination of Caribbean slave societies. That fitting occurred in the most literal editorial sense, since we are not reading Mary Prince’s writing or her direct voice. Prince dictated the narrative; its transcription was by Susanna Strickland (later to become Susanna Moodie, a major early Canadian writer); and it was edited by Thomas Pringle of the British Anti‐slavery Society. In this dictated form, Prince’s narrative resembles a few accounts transcribed and edited by sympathetic white abolitionists in the northern United States, or even Thomas Grey’s production of The Confessions of Nat Turner (1831), an antagonistic white attorney’s transcribed account of the life and deeds of the famous Virginia slave rebellion leader. A central reading problem in reading such transcribed accounts lies in recovering, if possible, voices of slaves beneath the narrative surface. In the case of Mary Prince, we know from her subsequent court testimony that Thomas Pringle edited her words and left out significant sections. Some of those omissions concerned Prince’s frank statements involving her sexuality and relationships with two men, a Captain Abbot and a black freeman named Oyskman. These editorial omissions attempted to re‐frame Prince within prevailing conventions of sexual propriety. Transcription and editing, while necessary by the standards of publication, attempted to conceal or erase the effects created by decades of subjection and the absence of formal education. (Allen) Contemporary critics have pointed out repeatedly how Pringle submerges Prince’s Creole hybrid language within a superimposed standard English; some (Paquet) suggest that his editorial decision‐making helped preserve remnants of Creole. What we read is thus a mediated narrative, one that arrives as an incomplete and heavily questioned version produced by a sympathetic editor. Prince paid a heavy social price for telling her story. First, she was called as a witness in a libel case that her former owner, Charles Wood, brought and won against Pringle for publishing details relating to him, a trial that no doubt mortified her by making public her sexual history. Second and possibly even more important for a devout woman, she was denied fellowship in the Moravian Church, an early Protestant church with a strong following among Caribbean slaves and to which she had converted about a decade previous. The elders of the Moravian Church met in London and wrote – Mary Prince, a Negroe woman from the island of Antigua, who came over to this country 3 or 4 years ago, & had not since returned to her Master, but had been taken under the patronage of Mr Pringle of the Anti‐slavery Society, has made application to be readmitted to our connexion. It appears she was belonging to the congregation at St John’s, & has a husband there belonging also, but she was suspended or excluded for immoral conduct. B[rother] Latrobe having stated what he knew of her character & circumstances, it was decided to tell her, that we could not entertain her request for readmission. (Thomas 83) This reputation was undoubtedly humiliating and hurtful, especially as it cut her off from a religious community that had sheltered her and one she shared with her husband, Daniel James. Yet this is a perverse morality, one that blames a bondswoman lacking bodily autonomy for submitting to sexual relations or for enduring rape. Prince, like many other enslaved women, used their bodies to barter for survival. The morality of slaveholders condemned her even in the nominal freedom England provided. Like many other American slave narratives of the nineteenth century, Prince begins her story in a state of youthful innocence. “This was the happiest period of my life,” she writes, “for I was too young to understand rightly my condition as a slave, and too thoughtless and full of spirits to look forward to the days of toil and sorrow.” A maturing realization of slavery’s meanings brings innocence to an end. An especially poignant scene occurs early in the narrative where Prince’s mother lines up her children to be sold at public auction and while Mary’s “heart throbbed with grief and terror” her family dissolves into incoherence as the children get sold to different destinations. Prince cannot comprehend a sensate world where cruel sights do not translate into empathy: “Did one of the many by‐standers, who were looking at us so carelessly, think of the pain that wrung the hearts of the negro woman and her young ones? No, no!” For white onlookers, the racial difference that allows human commodification of blacks simultaneously signs a rationale for emotional detachment. Prince directs her protest against this de‐humanization. Her narrative invokes pain and ability or inability to feel pain traces throughout, carrying an implicit demand that readers acknowledge humanity denied. The narrative works to remediate pain that can never be quieted, only resisted. As Prince’s life devolves into increasingly distant separations from her family, she struggles against psychological fragmentation. In middle age, the traumatic effect of these deprivations remains clear: “Oh, the trials! the trials! they make the salt water come into my eyes when I think of the days in which I was afflicted…” Her enslavement takes her from Bermuda, to Grand Turk Island, to Antigua, and back to Bermuda. The trajectory of her life as a slave is from bad to worse situations. Prince provides a detailed portrait of life suffered on Grand Turk Island as a domestic slave in Captain Ingham‘s house, where “the stones and timbers were not so hard as the hearts of the owners.” Prince speaks not only as a subject of torture and abuse she endured, but as a witness to the sufferings of others in her condition. The story of Hetty’s brutal torture and atrocious death has surely been repeated many times before Prince repeats it to Strickland and Pringle. Hetty’s story is the one that Prince has shared but escaped. To relate the memory of her much‐loved ‘Aunt Hetty’ – hung naked for repeated whippings while pregnant, delivering a stillborn child, dying in agony on the kitchen floor – is an ethical act of witness. Similarly, Prince tells of Sarah, an old woman who a slaveholder’s son first beats for slowness then throws into prickly pears, from which injuries she dies a few days later. In such stories, Prince recounts a shared community of endurance. The ethics of slave narratives demand recognition of this mutuality and telling histories that fellow slaves either could not or did not live to tell. These same lines possess a haunting sense of barely‐enunciated rage, an unresolved and passionate anger at unspeakable injustice. Although Prince can tell these white abolitionists the outlines of her own and other slave histories, she cannot tell them the depth of her anger. As for many others in Afro‐Caribbean society, the church and its community structure become Prince’s solace. After attending Methodist services, Prince joined the Moravian church where she had basic literacy lessons. At the same time, Prince absorbed a narrow, personalist concept of sin and the strict social control it exerted within Moravian congregations. “I never knew rightly that I had much sin till I went there,” she writes. The concept of slavery as a social sin does not appear in Prince’s narrative. The ‘sin of slavery’ entered public speech in the neighboring United States only later during the 1830s due to evangelical abolitionists, such as Elizur Wright, who frequently delivered antislavery jeremiads. Perhaps needing community to compensate for the loss of her family, Prince derived comfort and then asylum from church fellowship. She suggests that slavery exists in the Caribbean because the English lose their moral restraints upon arriving as new settlers. “[W]hen they go to the West Indies, they forget God and all feeling of shame, I think, since they can see and do such things,” she writes. For Prince, slavery that can be ended through prayer to God and social self‐recognition of slavery’s inherent corruption. The antislavery voice that emerges from Prince’s narrative, one that concludes by insisting that witness to slavery’s horrors will remove the “cloak about the truth”, echoes with the conversion experience she has undergone. Now it is the English public that she calls to conversion against slavery. Mary Prince remained a forgotten figure of history until after Moira Ferguson’s 1987 re‐
publication of The History of Mary Prince and historical research on the text. As contemporary Great Britain has become multicultural and the origins of Black Britain gained exploration, Mary Prince has emerged into public light again. She has been memorialized repeatedly, both in Britain and her native Bermuda. In 2007, a public campaign organized by the Nubian Jak Community Trust placed a plaque in her honor at the University of London’s Senate House – formerly the site of a house where she lived in 1828 – in a ceremony attended by Bermuda’s premier. (Mallan) Costs for the plaque and its reinstallation following a building renovation were covered by Mark Nash, a Bermuda citizen, as a gesture of reparation by a sixth‐generation descendant of Captain Ingham, the violent slaveholder who had purchased Prince when she was age twelve. (Muir) At the plaque dedication ceremony, Nash stated in part: Reconciliation and healing are what we need, certainly in my country. In Bermuda (as in most of the western world), we struggle with the aftermath of slavery and systems of oppression that still plague us today. Disparities in educational and employment opportunities, housing, healthcare, prison population, distribution of wealth, and overall life outcomes continue to exist along racial lines. While some would say progress has been made, it has come in fits and starts and has been offered begrudgingly by those that would take comfort in the status quo. Whilst legislative remedies will be required to dismantle structural racism and provide racial equity and justice, it is authentic human interaction that will help bridge the spiritual divide. (Bernews) His words speak to an effort both to understand Mary Prince’s narrative as a social statement with direct relevance to contemporary race relations and to find deeper meaning through changed interpersonal relations that give rise to racial antagonisms. The History of Mary Prince reminds British and American readers today that they live in the aftermath of slavery, an institution that died but whose social consequences remain fully visible. The consequences do not stop there since one meaning of globalism is that the historical racism and colonialism embedded throughout this narrative have been transmitted to a broad range of contemporary societies, as well as finding counterpart oppressive local formations of class and race. The pedagogical challenge that The History of Mary Prince raises lies in the work of understanding how individual lives have been harmed and deformed by racist and colonial ideologies, and how people have mounted resistance in response. Mary Prince’s story, however it reaches readers, remains as it started – an act of resistance. Teaching Issues 1. Historical context. The history of transatlantic slave trade and British colonial society in the Caribbean is a crucial opening point. Mary Prince’s narrative needs framing in historical, economic, and social terms. Students require a basic knowledge of the Middle Passage, the Triangular Trade, European colonialism, and plantation conditions in the Caribbean. 2. Editorial context. This narrative has been heavily shaped by the editorial work of two English abolitionists. Although students may prefer to read only Prince’s narrative, Pringle’s editorial annotations and lengthy appendix need reading and discussion. Special attention might be given to discussing the function of authentication and the racial hierarchy involved in having white abolitionists seeking to guarantee the oral history of a black slave. 3. Genre: Autobiography. Slave narratives emerged in transatlantic culture in the late 18th century as part of the democratization of the autobiography genre. Autobiography had been an elite genre but during the Enlightenment common‐born figures such as Jean‐
Jacques Rousseau and Benjamin Franklin published their life accounts, as did ex‐slaves such as Olaudah Equiano. There were approximately 120 full‐length published slave narratives in North America before the US Civil War. These narratives, the most famous of them by Frederick Douglass, helped generate public attention and substantially aided the antislavery movement. Typically, a slave narrative traces an ex‐slave’s life from childhood through adulthood and then freedom. Where an autobiography focuses on the development of a character, a slave narrative describes personal history and self‐
development as the achievement of freedom and opposition to slavery. Students should understand that slave narratives were political documents in the fight against slavery. Further, it is important that they realize slave narratives never disappeared as a genre and continue to emerge today from among the world’s estimated 31 million slaves. For a collection of contemporary slave narratives, see http://antislavery.eserver.org/narratives/contemporary‐slave‐narratives/. 4. Theme: Gender. Women’s slave narratives often differ significantly from those of male slaves. Harriet Jacobs, an American slave, wrote “Slavery is bad for men, it is far more terrible for women.” In this Jacobs refers to the sexual assaults to which many enslaved women were subjected, or to the compromises they made for self‐preservation. At several points in Prince’s narrative she alludes to her distress as a woman. She writes of her master on Grand Turk island, for instance, “He had an ugly fashion of stripping himself quite naked, and ordering me then to wash him in a tub of water. This was worse to me than all the licks. Sometimes when he called me to wash him I would not come, my eyes were so full of shame. He would then come to beat me.” Discussing such moments with students can lead to consideration of the strategies that women slaves employed for resistance or survival. 5. Theme: Family. Prince’s narrative relates the destruction of her family and its scattering. At the conclusion of the narrative she expresses the hope that by obtaining her complete freedom, she will be able to rejoin her husband in Bermuda. Re‐
establishing family remains central to her hopes for the future. Prince displays strong resilience in the face of her loss of family. Class discussion of the possible psychological effects of this dispersal of her family may be useful towards understanding the deeper dimensions of this narrative. Consider too how the master’s family superimpose themselves on the lives of slaves, demanding service, and contribute to the destruction of slave families. 6. Theme: Resistance. Slave narratives both contain reports of resistance against slavery and by their existence represent a form of resistance of themselves. In discussing this narrative, students may be requested to identify, list, and discuss the moments of resistance that Mary Prince mentions, leading to her final refusal to do laundry. Encouraging students to examine deeply how resistance manifests itself in ways small and large can illuminate a central purpose of the slave narrative genre. Study Questions 1. The first edition title page of The History of Mary Prince had the sub‐title “Written by Herself.” This was not correct, since white abolitionists transcribed and edited Prince’s oral history. A later edition changed this to “Related by Herself”. Some contemporary critics argue that this act was an appropriation and distortion of Prince’s autobiography. Others argue that the transcription, editing, and publishing provided by these abolitionists were necessary conditions that enabled Prince’s voice to be heard. (Paquet) Finally, an argument has been made that Prince, like other slaves, used her relationships with free people in order to express herself and achieve her goals. (Sharpe) Which of these views has stronger evidence? 2. What is the relationship between the narrative and its appendix? Note especially the nine points that Pringle lists. How does the appendix work to defend Mary Prince’s reputation? Why does such importance attach here to Prince’s sexual reputation? What does it suggest about English society at this date that a slave’s reputation needed defense rather than that of the slaveholder? 3. Consider the case of Henry the black slave‐driver who confesses to his sinfulness in beating slaves yet asserts he was only following orders from the master. Why might this case have remained in Prince’s mind from among the many public confessions of sin she must have heard? Why was it important enough to mention here? What does this suggest to us about Prince’s concepts of sin and repentance? While sin has been a subject of widely divergent interpretations, a central tradition in Christian thought treats sin as transgression against boundaries established by divine law, viz. “Whoever commits sin transgresses also the law: for sin is the transgression of the law,” (1 John 3:4). What boundaries might Henry have transgressed in the eyes of Prince and other slaves listening to him? 4. Mary Prince reports repeated inspections of her body, beginning with her sale as a young girl. These inspections are for purposes of commodification and authentication. Read the Appendix, which includes an 1831 letter from four women in the Birmingham who testified to the wounds on Mary Prince’s body. That letter reads in part – "My husband having read to me the passage in your last letter to him, expressing a desire to be furnished with some description of the marks of former ill‐usage on Mary Prince's person,‐‐I beg in reply to state, that the whole of the back part of her body is distinctly scarred, and, as it were, chequered, with the vestiges of severe floggings. Besides this, there are many large scars on other parts of her person, exhibiting an appearance as if the flesh had been deeply cut, or lacerated with gashes, by some instrument wielded by most unmerciful hands. Mary affirms, that all these scars were occasioned by the various cruel punishments she has mentioned or referred to in her narrative; and of the entire truth of this statement I have no hesitation in declaring myself perfectly satisfied…” How much of this scene represents a real need to authenticate Prince’s story and how much voyeurism? Is Prince willing to expose herself or does she do so from necessity? Why should it be necessary for a committee to report on Prince’s wounds? Would they have asked a white woman to display her wounds? What might the consequences be in terms of shaming? Discuss the different observational gazes and purposes in this narrative. 5. Mary Prince tells her story with a controlled anger over the traumatic scenes in her memory, the full emotions of which would be difficult to communicate. Yet at the same time she is addressing herself to an audience in Great Britain that may not understand the depth of her anger. How does she bridge the gap between her and the white readers of her story? Note where she says “I have been a slave‐‐I have felt what a slave feels, and I know what a slave knows; and I would have all the good people in England to know it too, that they may break our chains, and set us free.” What does she offer her readers in return for supporting the antislavery cause? 6. Discuss the applicability of Mary Prince’s narrative to contemporary society. In Prince’s case, for example, disadvantages of gender and race compound each other. How might that same intersection operate in today’s society? Can slave narratives, which emerge from profoundly different historical circumstances from our own, provide useful comparisons to contemporary modernity? 7. How does capitalism operate in Prince’s narrative? Does our society provide examples of uncompensated or minimally‐compensated labor not unlike that endured by Mary Prince? What reflections does this narrative provide on the commodification of labor and humanity itself? Selected Bibliography Allen, Jessica L. “Pringle’s Pruning of Prince: The History of Mary Prince and the Question of Repetition,” Callaloo 35 (Spring 2012) 2: 509–519. Banner, Rachel. “Surface and Stasis: Re‐reading Slave Narrative via The History of Mary Prince,” Callaloo 36 (Spring 2013) 2: 298‐311. Baumgartner, Barbara. “The Body as Evidence: Resistance, Collaboration, and Appropriation in The History of Mary Prince,” Callaloo 24 (Winter 2001) 1: 253‐275. Gadpaille, Michelle. “Trans‐colonial Collaboration and Slave Narrative: Mary Prince Revisited,” English Language Overseas Perspectives and Enquiries [Slovenia] 8 (Autumn 2001) 64‐77. Bernews, “Enduring Legacy of Bermuda’s Mary Prince,” November 20, 2011. Larrabee. M. J. “’I Know what a Slave Knows’: Mary Prince’s Epistemology of Resistance,” Women’s Studies 35 (2006) 453‐73. Maddison‐MacFayden, Margot. “Mary Prince, Grand Turk, and Antigua,” Slavery & Abolition 34 (December 2013) 4: 653‐662. Mallan, Caroline. “Slave Girl’s Bravery Remembered,” BBC News, October 26, 2007. Muir, Hugh. “Hideously Diverse Britain: His Ancestor was a Slaver. Now He’s Saying Sorry,” The Guardian, July 12, 2011. Paquet, Sandra Pouchet. “The Heartbeat of a West Indian Slave: The History of Mary Prince,” Black American Literature Forum 26 (1992)131–46. Rintoul, Suzanne. “’My Poor Mistress’: Marital Cruelty in The History of Mary Prince,” English Studies in Canada 37 (September/December 2001) 3‐4: 41‐60. Thomas, Sue, “New Information on Mary Prince in London,” Notes & Queries 58 (March 2011) 1: 82‐85. Todorova, Kremena. “’I Will Say the Truth to the English People’: The History of Mary Prince and the Meaning of English History,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 43 (Fall 2001) 3: 285‐302. Whitlock, Gillian. “Autobiography and Slavery: Believing The History of Mary Prince,” in The Intimate Empire: Reading Women’s Autobiography, 8‐29 (London & New York: Cassell, 2000). . The Antislavery Literature Project