After class last Thursday, I double checked on Jacobs’s grandmother’s status. Her name was Molly Horniblow, and she was freed. Historical details of how this happened seem to stem entirely from Jacobs’s account:
My grandmother’s mistress had always promised her that, at her death, she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold.
On the appointed day, the customary advertisement was posted up, proclaiming that there would be a “public sale of negroes, horses, &c.” Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose of her at private sale. My grandmother saw through his hypocrisy; she understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very spirited woman, and if he was base enough to sell her, when her mistress intended she should be free, she was determined the public should know it. She had for a long time supplied many families with crackers and preserves; consequently, “Aunt Marthy,” as she was called, was generally known, and every body who knew her respected her intelligence and good character. Her long and faithful service in the family was also well known, and the intention of her mistress to leave her free. When the day of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon the auction-block. Many voices called out, “Shame! Shame! Who is going to sell you, aunt Marthy? Don’t stand there! That is no place for you.” Without saying a word, she quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At last, a feeble voice said, “Fifty dollars.” It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother’s deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights; and she resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no one bid above her. She could neither read nor write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. But what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She gave the old servant her freedom.
What, exactly, is going on here? The passage begins with a reference to the family tradition of white slaveholding women determining inheritance of enslaved black women–or in this case, their legal emancipation. There’s also reference to this tradition being backed up in writing. Dr. Flint, though, attempts to disrupt this chain of disposition and positions himself as the arbiter of the (unseen) legal document. This is where it starts to get really interesting: he apparently concurs with Horniblow that he is most powerful in private and attempts to avoid a public sale. Horniblow rejects his attempt to carry out his business behind closed doors and demands to be auctioned in the public square if she is to be auctioned. Jacobs describes her as “very spirited” and well-connected due to her side enterprise of cracker & jam production. Her standing in the community makes the attempted auction a farce. No one makes a serious bid. Finally, another woman in her deceased mistress’s family makes a low bid. It seems that everyone present understands what is going on, and no one bids more.
This passage seems to attribute a surprising amount of agency to Horniblow, especially in the form of social capital with whites. Somehow, she inspires them to separate her as an individual, telling her the auction block is no place for her, from others whose bodies mark them as fit for the same space. What is the source of this seeming honor among slaveholders, which Jacobs elsewhere indicates does not really exist (eg, while her mistress was alive, she was in no way beholden to honor Horniblow’s downpayment on her own or her family’s freed). Despite her moral standing and her entrepreneurial spirit, she is dependent not only upon a white patron but the rest of the white community’s respect (or fear? though I see no evidence of that in this passage) of that patron–or respect for her right to determine the disposition of what is seen as family property. Ultimately, is this outcome driven by recognition of Horniblow as exceptional in some way, or is it the logic of property being followed as usual?
Thank you to the class for finding a fascinating question in plain sight.
