IMPORTANT

Can you guys please please please please email me your chapters in a word doc instead of only posting them here? Thanks. I don't want to miss anything.

PLOT SUMMARY

Plot Summary

            The narrative begins at a slave auction in Charlotte, North Carolina, where Clara, the daughter of a slave and her white master, is sold along with many other slaves to a plantation in Lexington, South Carolina. This chapter details the cruelty of the slave auctions of the day and how they tore families apart. The next chapter focuses on the family (the Hopkins) and plantation Clara lives and works on. The family is relatively kind and not as cruel as most, but life as a slave is still difficult for a young girl who knows nothing of her history except for what the mothering figure in the form of Martha, the slave, has told her. Master John and Mistress Sarah are described as kind but relatively intolerant masters. The supposed Christian plantation/slave owners are also exposed—especially the various forms of cruel and unusual torture they deem acceptable and even encouraged by the Bible. Christmas comes and goes on the plantation, with little celebration. Clara and the other younger children/slaves receive very little (virtually nothing) in terms of “presents.” They do not partake in a great feast; rather they receive an extra slice of bread (at best) in celebration of the holiday.
             As Clara grows, she hopes to be able to read and write and goes to Martha in hopes of receiving her aid in the area. Though it is illegal and a huge trouble, Clara finally manages to master these skills (with the help of Martha as well as other knowledgeable slaves). Clara grows even older and becomes close to a fellow slave on the Hopkins’s plantation. Abraham is a “full negro” and very hardworking. He is quite defiant and rebels in the little ways that he can, attempts to refuse whippings, but in the end he is always violently punished. The two fall in love, and it is during this time that Clara grows more and more discontent with her life as a slave and begins to see the unfairness in it through the cruel treatment Abraham is given. After much prodding, Abraham convinces her to run away with him so they may be legally married and free. But this escape is far from successful—the attempt is hindered by a pack of bloodhounds, Abraham is killed, and ironically enough, Clara ends up seeking refuge in the place of her birth, the plantation of William Scott in Charlotte, North Carolina. She recalls some vague memories of an abandoned outhouse and spends the rest of the night there. In the morning, she tracks down her brother, Peter, and attempts to persuade him to run off with her. Before they can complete their conversation, Master William Scott catches her and rapes her. Traumatized by this experience, Clara cannot bring herself to formulate a logical plan to run away and hides in the attic—she stays longer than expected when she becomes pregnant. With the help of other fellow slaves, and William’s daughter, Katherine, she is able to take cover in that same outhouse for quite some time. While she is in hiding, Katherine keeps her updated with the events by bringing her the anti-slavery publishings after Elijah Lovejoy.
            Some time after her stillbirth, Clara is able to muster enough strength to escape to the North under the guidance of the North Star and with the help of the Underground Railroad. At one of the last “stations,” she spends an unusually large amount of time with a Quaker family (where she learns about the Nat Turner rebellion) that helps her integrate herself into society and even encourages her to take their last name, since she did not even have one. Clara gets a job in the North as a nanny and finds that the freedom she experiences isn’t 100% freedom, and she is still treated differently. After a few years of living in the north, Clara receives a letter from Katherine and learns of the occurrences in her absence (when John communicated to William that Clara had run away, William remembered her and his actions and offered John a very nominal amount of money to buy Clara—and more recently, William died and left Clara to Katherine, Katherine sent her a letter along with her freedom papers). Soon after, Clara moves to Canada where she meets a free black man named Sam. Sam has some sort of occupation. The two fall in love and have two children: Beth, Charles, and Katherine.

Yash Mehta Is Awesome

More Narrative Stuff

Title: Slavery through the Eyes of Clara Parker.. What do you guys think?

Picture: How is the engraved portrait. which pic looks better?

Testimonials/ Introductions

Preface by the Author

I would like begin by warning the reader that this narrative is completely accurate. The accounts portrayed in my journeys follow the real events that occurred over the course of my slave life and my free life. I hope that you will come to understand the true aspects of Slavery and the horrible effects that remained with the many African Americans that endured Slavery’s harsh consequences. Yes, every whipping I discussed occurred, and every wound that was formed still has scars to represent its existence.

My life has witnessed a horrible slave master and a comforting slave plantation, but my greatest joys in life have come from my freedom and my family. After escaping to the North, I was able to discuss my life with trustworthy peers, and I attempted to promote information about Slavery. After many friends listened to my adventures, I was encouraged to share my story with society. However, this narrative was not by any means written for entertainment purposes. Truly, I would feel more comfortable keeping my life details to myself, but as a way of informing the nation of slave’s struggles to live, I decided to continue forth with this project.

While I always try to spend time with my family, I was sure to put a great amount of effort into making my story known to the world. This narrative is my way of educating others on Slavery and preventing people from becoming a part of this horrendous crime in the future.

Clara Parker

Introduction by the Editor

The slave narrative which you are about to read is written by a wonderful woman who has taken a great risk by exposing her past full of adventures. I have had the great pleasure of listening to her story and spending time with her family. While it may seem as if her tale includes many outrageous events and her writing may seem quite eloquent, I assure you that this narrative includes Clara’s real thoughts, ideas, and writing style. As a child, she was taught how to read and write by her nice mistress, and she learned a great deal about English during her time in the North, giving her the knowledge necessary to display her story. I have not edited any of her ideas, though I have moved around parts of the narrative for clarification purposes.

I am against the idea of slavery in the United States, and I hope that while you are reading, you may take the time to consider how you may take action against slavery. In the South, there are women, children, and even men, who have been born into lives of horror. While this tale may seem gruesome and violent, you must understand that the tale itself cannot possibly portray the entire extent of the maltreatment of slaves. Nevertheless, this narrative describes the truth, and as I read through this piece for the very first time, the truth, indeed, speaks for itself.

Through the help of my Anti-Slavery society and my dear friend, William Lloyd Garrison, I have been able to spread a great amount of information concerning the need for abolition, and I would hope that this narrative will help you understand how important it is for you to take a stand against slavery. I will continue to support Clara by dispersing her story throughout the nation, and I am sure she would appreciate careful consideration of her narrative.

J. Greenleaf Whittier

chapter 5, any corrections?

Chapter 5: Christmas

After our sobering escape from Scott and the hounds, I tried my best to conceal and smuggle the rest of the slaves in a Northwestern direction. However, I would accidentally lead them off in incorrect directions sometimes, but then one of the slaves I rescued named Jeremiah aided us with his guide skills which he had learned before he was taken into slavery, when he lived in Africa. He also helped us along with his hunting skills, allowing us to eat a small amount of meat every once in a while. After several near discoveries and a couple of miles off path, we finally made it back to Lexington, after only 34 days.

When the Hopkins’ saw me the next day, they were extremely cross with me, for in my absence, they had lost a significant amount of labor, and some of their crops had failed. As I had somewhat expected, I had a punishment coming; I had to sit in a horrible place called the “coldbox”, which was a wooden box in the middle of the field in which I had to stay for two entire days with neither clothes, nor food. In the cold climate of winter (for it was now winter), I felt like I nearly froze to death; however, this had been expected due to my actions and the consequences that they had. Mr. Hopkins had only given me the punishment reluctantly because he had to in order to make an example of me so as not to incite a slave insurrection, showing his kind, yet strict nature.

It was at this time that Mr. Hopkins told me of the fate that would face me in the coming month: due to financial problems, many of the slaves on the plantation (unfortunately, this included the slaves that I had just brought) would have to be sold on New Year’s Day. The day was quickly approaching and all of the two months of work and smuggling were unraveling.

Christmas came and went, and it was rather uneventful for us slaves, in comparison to the Hopkins’. Of the few of us who were actually Christian, the rest of us could not enjoy any festivities due to the prospect that we would probably be sold soon. This was a stark contrast to the holiday spirit of the Hopkins household, which was full of deliciously smelling cakes and pies, and a warm fire, and most of all, love and peace. It is sad that my people are not often able to celebrate the birth of a man as good-hearted as Jesus Christ. The people of America could learn a thing or two from his actual teachings, instead of blindly listening to racist pastors who filter the message of “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” out of their sermons. After all, what white man would ever even consider what would happen to them if we Negroes treated them with the same hatred, brutality, and contempt as they treat us?

When New Years came, Mr. Hopkins took us to the local slave auction podium, a sleazily made wooden framework with many holes and splinters. We were not the first slaves to go; we watched an entire family separated for a mere 50 dollars, which bought two different men a child of a slave mother. It sickens me to know that my people’s lives are worth so little to white men. It is truly despicable! It was my turn up, the price started at 50 dollars, due to my age and ability to work. Luckily for me, no one wanted to buy me, so I was safe for now, as was my brother, Abraham, and Martha, who acted as a mother toward me throughout this entire experience. We lost nine out of our swelled number of twenty three persons after the influx from the Flint plantation, so my work had not been entirely in vain.

is my chapter 4 ok with everyone? i tried to tie it into the ending of Divyas chapters...

Chapter 4: “Christian” Masters

Once I decided to leave, I gathered my things, grabbed a tiny parcel of my monthly ration of food to bribe past the plantation bloodhounds, wrote a letter to my masters explaining what I was doing, and then was off. I snuck past the main plantation house, everything going as planned, but then I heard the sniffing sound of a bloodhound right on my tail. Fearing that Mr. Hopkins had seen me, I bolted for the fence on the opposite side of the field; however, before I got there, the dog pounced on me. I rolled over, covering my face, and realized that it was merely the playful housedog, Toby. Big, old Toby was a twelve year old Beagle who had been one of my dearest friends during my time as a slave. I quickly shushed the dog with a bite out of the pork I had taken from my food supply and was over the fence before you could say persnickety! I was off into the woods in the direction that I thought was towards Charlotte, East.

It was on this tiresome trek back to Charlotte that I encountered the real edicts of Christianity. Along the backwoods roads between Kentucky and North Carolina, the many churches of almost every denomination would preach not of the Negroes’ work as slaves as “God’s will”, but more on the love and peace that God wanted for all humans, no matter the color of their skin. The trek took me at least a good month or so; it would have taken less time had I not been so worrisome about all the slave catchers, causing me to need to hide during the day, so as not to get captured. This was usually near a food store, allowing me to pilfer from the leftover trash for my meals. During the night, I would follow the trickling and sometimes roaring sounds of the Ohio River. I followed this for about two weeks, and then, when I noticed that I was in Virginia, I veered south towards North Carolina, guiding myself by traveling the opposite way from the North Star. Then, before I knew it, I was at the Charlotte Plantation once more.

Upon sighting the plantation, I quickly sprinted to the house walls, where I found an entrance to a cellar, in which I hid until nightfall. At this time, I quickly and quietly moved into the house and into the attic, from whence I could see and hear many of the happenings of the Scott Plantation. It was here that I witnessed Mr. Scott’s most horrific atrocities. It baffles me to this day, years after that day when I was a mere 16 years old how a man who considered himself a good and holy “Christian” could commit such heinous crimes against humanity. He started off the whole chain of events the next morning when his house slave was two and a half minutes late bringing him his breakfast. He leaped up, exclaimed a long series of racial slurs and expletives, and beat the woman over the head with his gold-plated cane, causing blood to drain from the poor lass’s left ear. After leaving and returning from Church, Scott next went out to the fields and, feeling rather sporty this day, asked his Overseer if he needed any help. Scott took the man’s whip and brought living Hell upon all the slaves who did not completely and immediately answer to every demand given him by anyone. The screams of the men, women, and even children could probably be heard for miles around.

The next night, I crept over to the slave huts across the field, somehow not alarming the hounds. I reached the meager homesteads and quickly opened the doors of all of them, looking eagerly for my brother, Peter. I found him sleeping on his stomach by the distinctive lash marks on his back. I quietly woke him and brought him and the rest of the slaves to the outskirts of the field. It was just then that we all heard the ear-splitting explosion of a rifle and the barking of the hounds. We immediately scrambled for the protection of the woods. I gave all the runaways a piece of the meat I had procured from a local eatery’s trash, and everyone except for two of the slaves were allowed to leave by the dogs after they were fed the meat. To all of our horror, two rifle blasts reverberated around the forest, tragically cutting short the lives of those two poor souls.

My Chapter 2-3

Okay so here are the chapters. I underlined two ages which I made up, but you can definitely change based on the age of our main character. I was little confused about the two plantations, but hopefully these two chapters follow along the storyline pretty well:

Chapter 2: Family and Plantation Life

After the dreadful slave auction in which I was sold, I frequently found myself wondering about my mother and father. I had barely received enough time to spend with my mother before my old master, William Scott, sold me off for a decent price along with Martha when I was only ten years old. While I considered Martha as my second-mother, a part of me always remembered that my lovely mother was back on the plantation in pain from losing me. As far as my father goes, I was always fully aware of that fact that Master Scott was my one and only father. My skin is much farer than most of the slaves on my old plantation and many of the older female slaves would sneakily talk in hushed voices around me. I can still hear the voices in my head repeating the words, “Lucky Clara’s mamma’s kept her mouth shut, or who knows what will happen to her and that poor bastard [Peter]”. However, if the father of a slave’s child is indeed the slave’s master, they are not allowed to discuss the father of their baby. Usually, many of the illegitamate children were sold off to new plantations, like me, separated from their families. I always wished that one day, I could relive my childhood and get to know my parents all over again, but then I’d have to live with that awful William Scott.

Food allowance under William Scott meant almost no food to live with for the whole year. We received a small allowance of food every month, consisting of a bushel of corn meal and a few pounds of meat, usualy pork. This was barely enough food to survive through the frezing winters and the scorching-hot summers, along with the endless tasks we had every day. Many times, I would divide my food in half and give the share of food to my brother, Peter, since as an older sister, my duty was to protect my younger sibling in all situations possible. He used to thank me for every ounce of meat I gave him and paid me back by singing to me in his lovely voice. At least his voice made up for the hunger and starvation I felt under Master Scott’s control. At least his voice helped to remind me of why I was still alive: to protect my family.

William Scott gave us a few forms of clothing every year, with about two shirts, one pair of pants, a jacket, some underwear, and a pair of shoes, but my new masters made sure that their slaves were well-clothed. Martha and I, along with other slaves on the Lexington Plantation, were provided with three shirts, pants for the summer and another pair of trousers for the winter, a jacket, stockings, and two pairs of shoes to work in the fields. These clothes usually fit the purpose of keeping us warm in the early fall and cool in the spring, but again, they were not enough for the extreme seasons. I lost many of my friends because they were not able to handle to abrupt weather changes with their clothes.

On the new plantation with John and Sarah Hopkins, we were given a corn meal every week and lots of meat. The Hopkins would always leave us with leftover bread rolls and would even give us pudding or pie for desert when we worked extra hard. If we followed all of their rules, we were allowed a 5-6 day holiday for Christmas and another holiday for Easter. In order to receive our holidays, we [the slaves] would work very hard and finish our tasks of picking cotton and managing the grains on time. We would sing and tell stories during our chores to make the day at least a little interesting, and then at night, we would all gather in our hut to sleep well in preparation for the next day’s chores.

During the holidays, free time was mainly spent with family, although the closest thing I had to family was Martha. Martha and I would make pots out of mud and she would help me dream about seeing my brother and mother again. Even though we knew that this was a hopeless thing to want, knowing as runaway slaves are greatly punished, I couldn’t help but imagine my life with a family for the holidays. But of course, life with the new master and mistress wasn’t too bad after all, especially compared to the horrible conditions under Master William Scott.

Chapter 3: Master and Mistress

William Scott. Those two words will haunt me forever. He is my father, and he was the most violent and immoral slave master I have ever encountered. His plantation was a torture chamber, and his slaves were his torturees. Every day, whippings were witnessed, but the worst whipping by far was given to my brother, Peter. I have had so many gruesome nightmares as a result of that one night, that it is impossible for me to relieve myself of this memory.

One summer day, when Peter was helping me clean out the chicken coop, with our bare hands of course, Peter became dizzy because of the heat. We had finished our month’s supply of food a few days before, and we were swallowing our spit to help keep ourselves dehydrated. All of a sudden, he grabbed my arm very tightly and then passed out. I had no idea what to do, as I was only eight years old at the time, and so I decided to go call upon the master to help my helpless brother. I never repeated this action again because it ended up being one of the worst decisions of my entire life.

Scott feigned concern for my brother up until he entered the coop. He saw my brother lying on the floor, confused and slowly opening his eyes. Before my brother could even utter a word, the master had Peter’s hands tied to the door with no shirt on. Our master pulled out a long whip and began slashing lines across my brother back; ten whips soon turned into forty, after which my brother passed out again. The sad thing is, William Scott probably felt no regret from the excruciating pain my brother encountered that day and for the event that scarred my brother’s life forever.

William Scott’s plantation was filled with whippings and beatings, every form of physical punishment you could imagine. Lucky for the slaves, William Scott’s children greatly abhorred him. Katherine Scott, his oldest daughter, always appeared to help heal our wounds and burns, and would secretly insult her father behind his back. She was an absolute sweetheart and proved very helpful later in my journey as a slave. Even when her father was selling me at an auction, she was right there by my side, begging for me to stay.

While Katherine’s wishes were ignored, I found happiness with my new master and mistress, John and Sarah. While they were strict and required all of their work done on time, the slaves were treated well with a sufficient amount of food and clothes, as mentioned earlier. At their Lexington Plantation, slaves were not sold unless the masters were in desperate need of financial aid, but families almost always remained together. This was the one thing I loved about Lexington Plantation. I did not have to witness my friend’s families being split apart as mine was at William Scott’s plantation.

Sarah Hopkins favored me greatly, and out of all of the slaves, I was one of the few slaves who got to work inside the house, taking care of her children and helping her bake. She even taught me how to read and write. These skills were forbidden to be taught to slaves, but I am grateful that she took the time to teach me. Soon enough, I was taking every free moment I had to read the books in Mrs. Hopkins’ house. (I know literacy is another chapter, but I thought we could add a little bit here too?)

John Hopkins, on the other hand, paid little attention to interacting with the slaves. He was kind when needed, but otherwise, he spent most of his time watching over our work and making sure everything was done correctly. A typical day for slaves under his eyes was spent plowing the cotton, but with many breaks, and then helping manage their vegetable gardens. I can still remember watching the slaves eagerly waiting for their breaks while I happily baked bread in the kitchen.

Their plantation was a big change from the arduous tasks we performed under Master Scott’s control, but it also gave me a false insight into slavery. Yes, the slaves were given warnings if they failed to follow the Hopkins’ assignments, but they were not whipped or beaten as on the Scott plantation. Soon enough, I began to realize that I needed to go back to the old plantation to save my family and bring them to this safer location.