I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son, a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life. She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me, so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually kind to me; he was naturally a good–hearted man, but was influenced by his wife. It was Saturday evening, and while I was bending over the bed, watching the baby that I had just hushed into slumber, Mr. Bingham came to the door and asked me to go with him to his study. Wondering what he meant by his strange request, I followed him, and when we had entered the study he closed the door, and in his blunt way remarked: "Lizzie, I am going to flog you." I was thunderstruck, and tried to think if I had been remiss in anything. I could not recollect of doing anything to deserve punishment, and with surprise exclaimed: "Whip me, Mr. Bingham! what for?"
"No matter," he replied, "I am going to whip you, so take down your dress this instant."
Recollect, I was eighteen years of age, was a woman fully developed, and yet this man coolly bade me take down my dress. I drew myself up proudly, firmly, and said: "No, Mr. Bingham, I shall not take down my dress before you. Moreover, you shall not whip me unless you prove the stronger. Nobody has a right to whip me but my own master, and nobody shall do so if I can prevent it."
My words seemed to exasperate him. He seized a rope, caught me roughly, and tried to tie me. I resisted with all my strength, but he was the stronger of the two, and after a hard struggle succeeded in binding my hands and tearing my dress from my back. Then he picked up a rawhide, and began to ply it freely over my shoulders. With steady hand and practised eye he would raise the instrument of torture, nerve himself for a blow, and with fearful force the rawhide descended upon the quivering flesh. It cut the skin, raised great welts, and the warm blood trickled down my back. Oh God! I can feel the torture now—the terrible, excruciating agony of those moments. I did not scream; I was too proud to let my tormentor know what I was suffering. I closed my lips firmly, that not even a groan might escape from them, and I stood like a statue while the keen lash cut deep into my flesh. As soon as I was released, stunned with pain, bruised and bleeding, I went home and rushed into the presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Robert, why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be so punished?"
"Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me."
I would not be put off thus. "What have I done? I will know why I have been flogged."
I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his feet, and on my refusing to go without an explanation, seized a chair, struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more calm, and I believe that I could then have forgiven everything for the sake of one kind word. But the kind word was not proffered, and it may be possible that I grew somewhat wayward and sullen. Though I had faults, I know now, as I felt then, harshness was the poorest inducement for the correction of them. It seems that Mr. Bingham had pledged himself to Mrs. Burwell to subdue what he called my "stubborn pride." On Friday following the Saturday on which I was so savagely beaten, Mr. Bingham again directed me come to his study. I went, but with the determination to offer resistance should he attempt to flog me again. On entering the room I found him prepared with a new rope and a new cowhide. I told him that I was ready to die, but that he could not conquer me. In struggling with him I bit his finger severely, when he seized a heavy stick and beat me with it in a shameful manner. Again I went home sore and bleeding, but with pride as strong and defiant as ever. The following Thursday Mr. Bingham again tried to conquer me, but in vain. We struggled, and he struck me many savage blows. As I stood bleeding before him, nearly exhausted with his efforts, he burst into tears, and declared that it would be a sin to beat me any more. My suffering at last subdued his hard heart; he asked my forgiveness, and afterwards was an altered man. He was never known to strike one of his servants from that day forward. Mr. Burwell, he who preached the love of Heaven, who glorified the precepts and examples of Christ, who expounded the Holy Scriptures Sabbath after Sabbath from the pulpit, when Mr. Bingham refused to whip me any more, was urged by his wife to punish me himself. One morning he went to the wood–pile, took an oak broom, cut the handle off, and with this heavy handle attempted to conquer me. I fought him, but he proved the strongest. At the sight of my bleeding form, his wife fell upon her knees and begged him to desist. My distress even touched her cold, jealous heart. I was so badly bruised that I was unable to leave my bed for five days. I will not dwell upon the bitter anguish of these hours, for even the thought of them now makes me shudder. The Rev. Mr. Burwell was not yet satisfied. He resolved to make another attempt to subdue my proud, rebellious spirit—made the attempt and again failed, when he told me, with an air of penitence, that he should never strike me another blow; and faithfully he kept his word. These revolting scenes created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit upon them.
The savage efforts to subdue my pride were not the only things that brought me suffering and deep mortification during my residence at Hillsboro'. I was regarded as fair–looking for one of my race, and for four years a white man—I spare the world his name—had base designs upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four years, and I—I—became a mother. The child of which he was the father was the only child that I ever brought into the world. If my poor boy ever suffered any humiliating pangs on account of birth, he could not blame his mother, for God knows that she did not wish to give him life; he must blame the edicts of that society which deemed it no crime to undermine the virtue of girls in my then position.
Among the old letters preserved by my mother I find the following, written by myself while at Hillsboro'. In this connection I desire to state that Rev. Robert Burwell is now living[A] at Charlotte, North Carolina:—
"HILLSBORO', April 10, 1838.
"MY DEAR MOTHER:—I have been intending to write to you for a long time, but numerous things have prevented, and for that reason you must excuse me.
"I thought very hard of you for not writing to me, but hope that you will answer this letter as soon as you receive it, and tell me how you like Marsfield, and if you have seen any of old acquaintances, or if you yet know any of the brick–house people who I think so much of. I want to hear of the family at home very much, indeed. I really believe you and all the family have forgotten me, if not I certainly should have heard from some of you since you left Boyton, if it was only a line; nevertheless I love you all very dearly, and shall, although I may never see you again, nor do I ever expect to. Miss Anna is going to Petersburgh next winter, but she says that she does not intend take me; what reason she has for leaving me I cannot tell. I have often wished that I lived where I knew I never could see you, for then I would not have my hopes raised, and to be disappointed in this manner; however, it is said that a bad beginning makes a good ending, but I hardly expect to see that happy day at this place. Give my love to all the family, both white and black. I was very much obliged to you for the presents you sent me last summer, though it is quite late in the day to be thanking for them. Tell Aunt Bella that I was very much obliged to her for her present; I have been so particular with it that I have only worn it once.
"There have been six weddings since October; the most respectable one was about a fortnight ago; I was asked to be the first attendant, but, as usual with all my expectations, I was disappointed, for on the wedding–day I felt more like being locked up in a three–cornered box than attending a wedding. About a week before Christmas I was bridesmaid for Ann Nash; when the night came I was in quite a trouble; I did not know whether my frock was clean or dirty; I only had a week's notice, and the body and sleeves to make, and only one hour every night to work on it, so you can see with these troubles to overcome my chance was rather slim. I must now close, although I could fill ten pages with my griefs and misfortunes; no tongue could express them as I feel; don't forget me though; and answer my letters soon. I will write you again, and would write more now, but Miss Anna says it is time I had finished. Tell Miss Elizabeth that I wish she would make haste and get married, for mistress says that I belong to her when she gets married.
"I wish you would send me a pretty frock this summer; if you will send it to Mrs. Robertson's Miss Bet will send it to me.
"Farewell, darling mother.
"Your affectionate daughter, "ELIZABETH HOBBS."
背景介紹與作者介紹
這個強而有力的敘述，摘自伊麗莎白·霍布斯·凱克利的自傳，她是一位非裔美國女性，出生於 19 世紀初的奴隸制下。凱克利後來獲得自由，成為一名成功的裁縫，也是亞伯拉罕·林肯總統的妻子瑪麗·托德·林肯的知己。她的回憶錄提供了對奴隸制殘酷現實、被奴役人民的韌性以及當時複雜的社會動態的罕見而生動的第一手記述。
伊麗莎白的故事發生在內戰前美國的背景下，這個時期以激烈的種族壓迫和社會不公為標誌。她的經歷反映了被奴役人民所遭受的殘酷待遇，包括身體虐待、情感折磨和剝削。然而，她的敘述也揭示了她在逆境中表現出的力量、尊嚴和堅韌不拔的精神。
詳細闡釋與意義
這段文字講述了伊麗莎白在北卡羅來納州與一位長老會牧師的家人一起生活的痛苦經歷。儘管她年輕，而且承擔著繁重的工作量，但她卻遭受了殘酷的懲罰和不公正的待遇。這個故事突出了那些宣揚基督教價值觀卻對他人施加痛苦的人的虛偽。伊麗莎白拒絕被動地屈服於虐待，表明了她的勇氣和自尊，挑戰了她那個時代的非人化規範。
敘述也觸及了被奴役婦女所面臨的複雜而痛苦的性剝削現實。伊麗莎白關於在這種情況下成為母親的描述，揭示了剝奪被奴役婦女對她們的身體和生活自主權的系統性不公正。
她寫給母親的信揭示了她對聯繫、希望和更美好未來的渴望，儘管她遭受了艱難困苦。它也反映了分離帶來的精神打擊，以及在艱難環境中保持希望所需的韌性。
給學生的教訓和見解
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勇氣和自尊： 伊麗莎白拒絕在沒有反抗的情況下被打，這教導了在面對壓倒性權力時為自己挺身而出的重要性。學生可以了解到，尊嚴和勇氣是克服不公正的重要品質。
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同情心和意識： 閱讀伊麗莎白的苦難，鼓勵了對那些面臨歧視和困境的人的同情。它幫助學生了解歷史對人類的影響，培養同情心和社會意識。
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韌性的力量： 儘管她面臨殘酷，但伊麗莎白的精神依然堅韌不拔。她的故事激勵學生培養韌性——這是克服生活和學習中挑戰的一項基本技能。
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對歷史的批判性思考： 伊麗莎白的敘述邀請學生批判性地審視歷史上的不公正，並認識到人類行為的複雜性，包括宣稱的價值觀與行為之間的矛盾。
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發聲的重要性： 伊麗莎白決定寫下她的故事和信件，表明了分享個人經歷的力量。可以鼓勵學生誠實地表達自己，並用自己的聲音倡導正義和改變。
在日常生活中應用這些教訓
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在學校： 學生可以通過反對欺凌或不公平待遇來培養勇氣。他們可以通過支持可能感到被邊緣化的同學來練習同情心。
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在社交場合： 了解尊重和友善的重要性，有助於建立包容性的友誼和社區。認識到他人的掙扎，可以培養同情心和合作精神。
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在個人成長中： 通過在學習、運動或個人挑戰中堅持不懈來培養韌性，可以為學生應對未來的障礙做好準備。反思像伊麗莎白這樣的歷史故事，可以激發成長心態。
從故事中培養積極的價值觀
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尊重人的尊嚴： 認識到每個人都應受到尊重，無論其背景或地位如何。
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反對不公正： 學會識別不公平，並找到建設性的應對方法。
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同情心和憐憫心： 練習理解他人的感受和經歷。
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誠實和表達： 鼓勵開放的溝通和分享個人故事。
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希望和決心： 即使在面對困難時，也要保持樂觀和決心。
通過學習伊麗莎白·霍布斯·凱克利的故事，學生不僅獲得了歷史知識，還培養了道德洞察力和情感力量。她的一生證明了人類精神的持久性和為正義和尊嚴而奮鬥的重要性。