About the play

"Run Jenny" is a series of monologues of various lengths; one character sings. As written, all dialogue is delivered directly to the audience with no interaction between the actors. In this kind of presentation, it is a form of storytelling and may be done very effectively as a reading with book in hand. If a more traditional staging is desired, the play easily adapts to that expansion.

     Some of the characters speak with a distinctive Southern manner of speech. Care should be taken that this is authentic.

     The dialogue includes a few profanities and the use of the word "nigger," which are an integral part of the story, its characters and its place in history.

The story

Henrietta Hunt is the wife of a slave-owner in the South of the 1850s. She is on trial for the murder of her husband. As the various townspeople give their reaction to the events of the day, we learn of the diversity in attitude toward this woman. And as we are privy to bits of the trial, we learn that Mrs. Hunt engaged in a plan to free her husband's slaves and it was a miscalculation during this planning that resulted in Mr. Hunt's death. His wife stands accused of having struck him a deadly blow with an axe.

     The story advances to reveal just how it all came about, and takes us to an unexpected climax that leaves the audience breathless. The horrors of slavery and the forces behind its opposition are relentless in this fictional story not unlike many true stories that come from that period in our nation's history.

Characters

Jenny Hill -- Female; Black; late 20s to mid 50s. A slave -- a strong woman with an indelible weariness, yet with a stance that conveys hope and pride. She speaks the language typical of the common uneducated American slave of the South. (Singing required.)

Henrietta Hunt -- Female; White: late 20s to mid 40s. A woman of impressive bearing and deep conviction. She is from the North and speaks standard, and very proper, American English.

Reverend -- Male; White; around 40 or any older age. A man of grace and dignity, without pretension. He, too, is from the North and speaks the standard American English of a well educated man but with the care and emphasis a minister would apply.

Judge -- Male; White: 50s to any older age. A man with the austere yet empathetic bearing and manner of an authority in comfortable command. He speaks as a well-educated Southerner in a style that is comfortable for the listener.

Overseer -- Male; White; 20s or 30s. A native Texan who speaks with a Texas accent.

Banker -- Male; White; 40s or older. A brash man of the South who admires the persona and success of a hard-nosed slave-owner and is sure that God has mightily blessed the South.

Apothecary -- Male; White; 30s or 40s. A native of the South, heretofore soft-spoken, who is troubled by slavery, but never before had the courage to take a stand against it.

Time & Place

The time is in the early 1850s in one of the Southern states.

Set & Lighting

There is no need for a set. Actors could be seated on stage and stand to deliver lines, or stand and step forward, or step into lighted area(s). If this approach is utilized, it is suggested that "Henrietta" remain lighted throughout -- until near the end. A more elaborate setting could be devised, if desired.

Costuming

Costuming could be totally authentic, or it could be scaled back to a uniform kind of dress that denotes no particular time or location.

Speech Patterns

Some attempt has been made to convey speech patterns phonically, but there is, of course, much more to authentic regionalism than this. Actors should feel free to apply the distinct rhythms, cadences and melodies of the various regional patterns, and the "sensuousness" of Southern speech.

     It should be noted that the Texas speech is somewhat different from that of the deeper South. The Overseer's speech is tighter and more nasal than the Southern speech, with a tendency more toward a whine than a drawl; and the r's are very definitely pronounced.

The Music

There are three places in the script where the stanza of a spiritual-like song is used. It is suggested that the first and second of these are Jenny's voice without accompaniment. The stanza at the end of the play may be sung in the same manner, or it could be underscored with choral or instrumental accompaniment (live or recorded) that retains the essence of the slaves' singing in the fields or in congregation.

     The music included within the dialogue (full score at the end of the script) is not an authentic "Negro spiritual," inasmuch as it was written for this play; but it is of that type and contains the "coded references" common to many of the slaves' songs -- references that conveyed their desire or plans to escape. Mention of Jesus, angels or other Biblical characters were references to people who could help them escape; mention of Heaven, Canaan, the Promised Land or other Biblical locations associated with home, rescue or deliverance referred to the North and freedom from slavery; and mention of being taken away, delivered or being lead refers to the act of escaping slavery.

Run Jenny

Henrietta

It is the slave-owner's practice, we know, to let no more than a few Negroes be in one place. Else, they might talk -- and plan.

     But plan what? Have they reason not to be happy with their lot? They are nourished, having the leftovers of our gardens and the discards from our butchering of meat. We give them the fabric from bags of feed, and scraps of twine to make clothes; and we allow them to use the bark of the trees to make shoes. They may bathe their bodies and wash their laundry with the clay from the bank of the river. We don't let them learn to read, so they've more time for recreation. They're such hearty beings they need no potions and pills, bandages and sick beds. They heal with no more than voodoo and wet rags.

     If one lifts a hand when he should not have, it may cost him a finger or two. If he's suspected of stealing, it could cost him the hand. If he speaks out of turn we'll split his tongue, and a step out of line and we'll cripple his feet. If one is hopelessly damaged, a quick blow with a club brings welcome relief. If one becomes too fevered, we'll pull him away for the safety of others and let him pass in peace. They are housed in shanties that give no protection, and kept in a state we'd not allow swine.

     These are men and women, boys and girls. Human beings! Made in the form of us all! Arms, legs, eyes! A heart, a soul, a dream! And we whip them till the skin falls from their backs like strips of fresh-sliced bacon. They are beat until they cannot work, then beat because they won't. We steal them from their homelands, rip them from their families, deny them anything of value, and take pride in destroying the humanity we claim they do not have. We think we are something we are not, for we do not have this right!

Banker

Ah nevuh in mah life seen anybody as pure-dee uppity as that theah Miz Waltuh Hunt. Walks with huh back s' straight y'd think she sleeps tied up to a bahn dooh (barn door) , an' sticks huh nose up'n th' aih (air) lahk she's itchin' t' kiss th' ass-a God. Damned No'the'nuhs (Northerners)! Ought-a just pull theah heads off soon's it breaks out-a the damn rattluh's egg. That'd be one damn big favuh to th' whole wohld. If they was made out-a papuh Ah might wipe my butt with one of'em, but Ah sweah t'God Ah can't think of anothuh good use fuh any of'em.

Judge

If evuh we have behaved lahk decent an' reasonable people, let this be that time ... even if weah only pretendin'. Mistuh Foahman, has the jury reached a vuhdict?

Jenny

I don' unnahstan' (understand). I heah de stories comin' fum dat couhtroom, an I jis' don' unnastan'. All I know's I got t' fine da ans'uh. T'ang is, and, oh I hab leahned dis de hahd way -- not ebuh prob'em has got a solution. But Ahm lookin'.

Henrietta

(With hand up for oath)

I do.

(Lowers hand)

My name is Henrietta Charity McClellan Hunt. I was born on July twenty-two, eighteen-fourteen, in Albany, New York. That is where I met my husband, Walter Jefferson Hunt, a respected man of business in that city.

     During our three-year courtship and the first year of our marriage, our conversation often centered on the plight of the Negroes in the South, for Mister Hunt told me of his family's vast holdings here and how awfully he was distressed by his father's ownership of slaves. He was the younger son of Caleb Ulysses Hunt, so assumed that the land would never be freely in his control to do with as he pleased -- to release the slaves to their freedom.

Overseer

Now Ah'll be th' first to admit that Waltrt Hunt could be a hard-headed sonova bitch, pardon m'Freench. Sump'n' lack this happ'nin' sure does knock th' props out from under ya. Jist never know what's gonna come down the pike in this crazy part-a the world.

Henrietta

But, as you are aware, two years ago my husband's father and his older brother were taken in a terrible accident. My husband inherited the land, without encumbrance, and we made the decision to move here and to live on the plantation known as Willow Hill. His plan, he said, was to free the slaves and prove that farming could be sufficiently profitable without the indignity and inhumanity of slave labor.

Reverend

As to what happened out there at Willow Hill -- well, of course, that was a surprise, just because death almost always is. And especially when it happens at such an unexpected time and in such an unexpected manner.

Henrietta

As we were on our journey to come here, however, I noticed a restlessness and withdrawal beginning to envelope Mister Hunt. When he finally spoke of his inner disturbance, he conveyed a harshness I had not known he possessed. He said that he had come to realize that slaves would be a necessary part of the operation of Willow Hill, that he could not free them. When I attempted to discuss the matter with him, he told me quite distinctly that it was none of my concern, and he refused discourse about it.

Banker

All-a this heah crap is about th' biggest goddam pile-a bullshit Ah evuh seen. Damned woman stickin' huh nose inta all the wrong places an' this is what happens. This heah is proof a-plenty, lahk we needed any moah, that if women evuh got th' right t' vote, th' whole damn South would be in shambles by midnight. They just ain't made t' thank in a thoughtful mannuh, much less govuhn with any degree of sensibility. Outside the home, theah out-a theah element.

Henrietta

I wondered, of course, what could have caused such a change in a man. It was greed, I think, that unveiled the truth of his soul. The prospect of power and certainty of wealth struck chords within him that even he, perhaps, had never before heard.

     Less than a year ago, I gave birth to twin sons -- one stillborn, the other dead at four months of a common fever. I tell you this to remind you that I fulfilled my expected duties as wife and mother, though our bond had weakened.

Reverend

Missus Hunt is a fine woman. She is strong; she is loyal; she is outspoken -- and she is troubled. For she believes she lives in a time of great unrest among a people in great conflict. I can't argue with that.

     Maybe I understand her better than most, both of us being from the North, though of course I didn't know her before she married Walter Hunt and moved here. Since I've lived here a good many more years, I think I've helped her become acclimated to the Southern way of life -- as much as that is possible for outsiders such as we.

     We've had some very interesting discussions about matters spiritual and corporal, she and I. Many of my parishioners, when they talk about subjects in the Bible or themes of religion or facets of daily life, want to dwell on aspects of Heaven and Hell, sin and salvation, nit-picking at the rightness and wrongness of this, that or the other. Missus Hunt is more inclined to talk about people and possibilities -- what we are really like, what we can be like, what we can do to help each other. It isn't simply a matter of philosophy or theory to her, or even religion or divinity, but a matter of practicalities and necessities ... and humanity. For her, religion is not so much what one believes as what one is and what one does.

Henrietta

Willow Hill is rich land that has yielded impressive quantities of cotton, grain and tobacco. My husband employed dozens of white men as overseers to supervise the African slaves, who dedicated many long and difficult hours and years to the planting, care and harvesting of crops from which we benefited.

     The farm equipment was well maintained, as were the barns and sheds. The carriages were gleaming, the house spotless, the lawns faultless, the gardens filled with color. The horses were fed well and groomed daily, and never worked too hard. My husband's dogs were perfectly bred, flawlessly trained and generously rewarded. My husband prided himself on the display of his accomplishments and abundance.

     But this show was a guise, concealing the evil that ate at the heart of it all.

Reverend

Now she does have a way of ruffling some folks' feathers. No doubt about that. When she feels that something needs to be done, she expects it to get done and she doesn't expect to be doing it all herself. And once she's made up her mind, nobody's going to find an argument against her that she can't shoot down aiming from the hip. Oh, yes, she can get some folks' dander up, but, truth is, she's probably done more real good for this town than any other ten citizens combined. And people know that -- and some don't like it.

     Her husband, now -- well, fact is, to the best of my knowledge Walter Hunt has not set foot in All Saints Episcopal or any other church in this town since his mother passed on a good many years ago. Mister Hunt is acknowledged to have carried on, very successfully, the profitable business of the family plantation; but in this neck of the woods he would never have been close to winning a popularity contest. When he was younger, from what I've heard, he was a better person, I believe. Unfortunately, some people eventually grow into their true selves.

Jenny

When de rains come down an' de ribuhs (rivers) rise, dey's a place place down neah Pottah's bridge wheah da watuh goes in a big suhcuh (circle),  lack de centuh of a stohm dat God's tuhned loose on de sinnuhs. Da watuh whuhs (whirls) 'roun' mad an' hungry an' lookin' fuh tangs t' gobbah (gobble) up. Dat las' big rain we had, Ah seen dis poah ol' cow floatin' down da ribuh. Oh, she was skeahed (scared) an' she wuz clawin' dat watuh an' she wuz bobbin' lahk a cohk (cork) wit a load on da hook. Huh eyes wuz wide an' won'drin' an' huh moo wuz loud an feahfuh (fearful). An' den she seen dat whuhpoo (whirlpool), an' she wuz bein' pulled t'ohd (toward) it, an' dat poah (poor) ol' tang had ta wonduh if dey wuz any way she could ebuh get out-a dat mess. Any way at all.

Overseer

Mister Hunt had a certain kind-a respect fur us that worked for'im, but he expected us t'work hard and he expected us t'git a lot-a hard work outta those slaves-a his. An' some-a th' others on th' bossin' crew -- well, fact is, some of'em enjoyed bein' rough with them thair niggers. Ah expected'em t' work hard for me, an' sometimes Ah didn' see no way but t'bring th' whup down on'em a time'r two. Y'always got a few lazy bastards that'll make it hard fur all th' others. But Ah didn' beat mah boys lack some of'em did, an' fur sure not th' women. An' th' ol' folks -- wull, Ah wuz jist downright gen'le with them, lettin' 'em work closer to their houses so they didn' have t'walk too far, places whir they could git a little more shade, let'em sit couple-a times a day, an' almost never whuppin' 'em. And Ah could tell they 'preciated me bein' s'nice to 'em. Ah got more smiles'n thank-yas out of'em than most-a th' other bosses, Ah'm purty sure.

     Fur a whahle (while), Ah'd see Miz Hunt ridin' by out there a ways. She got purty good on a horse. Then she started ridin' in closer, goin' 'long th' roads near th' fields whir th' farmin' wuz done. An' then she got t'whir she'd stop an' talk -- not jist me, but with th' other overseers, too. And Ah have t' admit that Ah found some of'er turns in conversation t'be a mite mystifyin' at first.

Judge

Ah don't thank Ah've evuh prusided ovuh what Ah would call a "good case," but evuh once in a whahle a really bad one comes along, an' this is one-a those.

     The Hunts have been an impohtant paht of this town an' this county an' this state faw longuh than any of us alive t'day can remembuh. Ovuh the yeahs, the Hunt family has contributed much to ouh societeh. But now they hand us a legacy with which we aw not suhtain how to deal.

Overseer

In time Ah come t' reco'nize that she didn' like th' whole idea of slavery. Well, she is a Northerner, so Ah reckin that shouldn've surprised me none. But Ah'd jist never been around enybidy that wuz as ag'in it as she was. Oh, she didn' rant an' rave, 'r enythang like that. Least not t'me. She jist very calm-like talked about it. Ah could sort-a see'er point, Ah reckin, in some ways, bein' frum Texas'n all -- but way thangs are 'round here, if ya don't have those niggers out there'n th' fields, you don't have no crops. So seemed t'me it wuz jist a matter of ever'bidy makin' a livin'. Includin' those niggers.

     Well, a-course, what Ah didn' know wuz jist how much she wuz talkin' t'some-a th' other overseers. Th' ones that would let'er. And Ah kin assure ya, Ah did not know what was goin' on in that respect. Ah would-a never b'lieved that there was some-a th' other men that would throw in with her on her little scheme, not that Ah'd ever heard about th' plan b'fore it happened, mind-ja. No siree. That was a big su'prise t'me when that all come down. An' not jist one'r two of'em. Connivin' with her, ag'in Mister Hunt -- an' jist lookit whut ended up happ'nin'. Seems t'me that purty much says it all right thair. God didn' have nothin' t'do with sump'n' like that. No sirree.

     Now Ah got me some little bit-a sympathy fur th' darkies, even though, 'cordin' my gran'pa, they're closer t'monkeys than humans an' don' even have a soul -- and he's a preacher th' gospel, so Ah guess he ought-a know. But even so, thair is no way Ah would ever've been part of a plan fur a uprisin'. That's jist askin' fur trouble.

Reverend

Considering the circumstances, I don't know how any jury could possibly say this was anything other than self-defense.

Jenny

(Singing)

Heaven's angels, take my hand,

Lead me to da promised land.

Give me manna I can eat

     As I kneel at Jesus' feet.

Oh, blesséd angels, take my hand.

Henrietta

Let me tell you plainly: The slaves at Willow Hill have been treated worse than any other creature living on that land, except for snakes. And that difference is little.

     Now, as to what happened five weeks ago at Willow Hill.

Judge

That couhtroom will be packed evuh day of this trial -- we know that. Evuhbody is goin' t' want t' heah evuh' wohd (word) of it, to know evuh little bit of what went on out theah at Willah Hill. Wull, ah'm tellin' y'all now Ah don't want anybody's name bein' dragged through the mud ... without absolute justification. Ah will brook no inference, innuendo, insinuation, suggestion aw implication if the sole puhpose of the question aw statement appeahs to be no moah than to raise doubts about, aw cast aspehsions upon, a pehson's charactuh aw integrity. Ah will demand of evuh-one the facts, but this will be a trial t'get at the truth.

Henrietta

It was about one-thirty in the afternoon. I was in the library of our home. I heard the door of the kitchen open and close and I recognized my husband's step, the speed and weight of it. And I knew his mood was not a good one.

     He entered the hallway curtly calling my name. Before I could respond, he found me. His eyes were wide with anger and hard with resolution and his face was burning from deep inside.

     He came to me with both hands clinched. He'd thrown words at me, though never his fists, but I thought he would strike me then. But when he thrust his fist at me, he turned his hand and opened it to expose the palm.

     "What is this?" he wanted to know. His voice was hard and coarse.

     In his hand lay an orange bead -- round, translucent, elongated, a thin hole through the middle length of it.

     "That is a bead from an amber necklace," I told him, as calmly as I could. I knew he had discovered my secret.

     "Which amber necklace?" he asked. His voice stung my ears.

     I told him, "It is the one your mother gave to me, on our wedding day."

     He screamed at me. "That's been in the family for a hundred years," he said. "She gave it to you for safekeeping, not to tear apart and divvy up with a bunch of damned nig -- negroes!"

     I asked him where he got the bead. I feared his answer.

     "Where I got it is none of your business," he screamed as he called me names that I shan't repeat.

     I was to hear the story from others.

Judge

Whatevuh is presented about these two people an' whatevuh happened between them -- none of that is goin' to mattuh a hell of a whole lot when the full implication comes across: That what happened out theah threatens the assets of evuh family -- indeed, the entiah economy of this whole region -- if this incident isn't reigned in with all due speed. We've got to keep it in front of all concehned that that is not what this trial is all about.

     Ah have awready instructed the sheriff an' the bailiffs that no nigras aw t' be puhmitted into the couhtroom or anywheah neah the couhthouse durin' the trial. Oh, Ah know wohd will get back to them about what's goin' on heah, but anythang we can do to delay that wohd or dilute its effect will be in ouh favuh. We know awready that this whole situation has caused a great deal of unrest on evuh plantation faw miles around. We could end up with open wahfayuh (warfare) on ouh hands if this isn't handled judiciously. And at this point, it's anybody's guess as ta what side would have th' moah white on it. If Ah could hand-pick a jury mahself an' tell'em how to vote, Ah wouldn't waguh (wager) one single penny on what they might do.

Jenny

Ah been walkin'. Don' know what else a body kin do. Oh, Ah left dat deah plantation when all de uddahs left, but Ah don' go nowheah. Dey runnin' fah away, Ah 'magine. Ah sho' do hope so. But Ah'm runnin' fum sump'n that jis' won' lemme be. So, fu' now Ah walk dese roads, 'fraid dey may be lookin' fu' me, so Ah cain't sit in no one place fu' long.

     Ebuh' once inna whall (in a while), when Ah t'ank Ah kin walk a little fastuh, Ah sneak back onta de plantation an' go to da one place wheah dey's food bein' fixed dese days. Ida's got dem two bad huht guhls (hurt girls) she's a-nuhsin', so she wouldn' leave, a-couhse. An' de few men dat-ah left, dey he'p'uh (help her) , an' de littah chirren dat-a deah, an dey brang de stuff ta Ida an' she cook fo'em. An' whenebuh Ah kin git deah, dey feed me too. Nebah know befoah dat poke salid an' baw'ed tatahs ('taters) could taste so good.

     When Ah heah da white folk talk about dey "home," dey talk about what a wunnahfuh (wonderful) place "home" is. Dat's cuz dey home ain't lack mah home, eben if Ah did lib at Willah Hill, da biggis' an' bes' plantation inna whole wide worl'. Dat's what dey said. Bes' fu' who Ah ain't s'shuah.

     Dey really is a hill wit willahs (willows) on it. Dat's wheah de name come fum. Obah on de udduh side-a dat hill's de village whur Ah lived, an' ebah-body bawn (born) deah got de las' name-a Hill. De village down by wheah de two ribahs (rivers) jine up, dose folks got de las' name-a Ribahs. Dat rocky patch dat ain't no good fo' fahmin', de dahkies (darkies) what lib deah got th' name Stone. Dat's de way de white folks do it. Ah jis' t'ank de Lohd Ah wadn' bawn neah no tawlet (toilet).

     Mah momma an' daddy, dey wadn' bawn (born) heah. Dey was b'ought heah fum Af'ica. Dat's ouh homelan', do' Ah don' reckin Ah'll ebuh see it. Back deah, dey tol' me, dey whu' in dif'fent tribes dat was enemies an' allus fightin' wit' each uddah. When dey got heah, mah daddy fought enyt'ang an' ebuht'ang, no mattuh de colah. Dat's what Ah'm told. He wuz kilt befo' Ah wuz bawn. Kilt bah anuddah slave man. One of'em stole somet'in' fum da uddah; th' story's kind-a uncleah jis' what happen -- 'cept mah daddy died. But he had plen'y-a mahks on'im put deah by da white man. Dat's what Ah'm told. He wuz a awfu' angry man, an' God bless'im fo' dat. He had ebah right t'be angry. My momma gabe up to huh angriness. But dat didn' brang huh no peace'a happiniss. It jis' kep' th' w'up off'uh back some da time.

     Ebah-t'ang would-a stayed da same fu'ebah 'roun' here, Ah reckin, iffen it hadn'-a been fo' Miz Hunt marryin' da massa an' comin' to Willah Hill. Jis' cain't hahdly beliebe de t'angs dat stahted hap'nin' den.

Henrietta

He had come upon a young Negro woman called Flora by the white men, although I knew her name to be Soleema. He found her showing the bead, which he recognized, to another young woman, who was Soleema's sister, and they were whispering. Inasmuch as slaves are not permitted to whisper to each other, I don't know what first caught his attention: the whispering or the bead. But when he saw the bead, his anger was unbound. He ordered a search of their homes and colonies, their gardens and sheds and even their bodies, to continue with all necessary discipline for as long as it took to recover the fifty-nine amber beads. He told one of his minions to flog the two young women, in a manner that sickens me yet to recall it. They hover still near death.

     As we stood in the library, he became so angry he started swinging at me with closed fists. I tried to explain what was inside of me. I wanted him to know their hurt, but his ears were closed to it all. That they were beat and whipped and kicked -- hacked, struck and maimed -- he seemed not at all to care. It was simply a daily routine.

     I wanted him to remember what I thought he once had known -- that these were human beings, God's own creation, held against their will, forced to do what they should not do, and from which they could not possibly gain. They were not animals, they were not chattel. They had the right to be treated humanely and compassionately. There was no justification for them to be held in bondage by white people filled with such unmitigated profligate arrogance. I do not remember my exact words, but this is what I tried to tell him. And he became even angrier.

Jenny

Miz Hunt would come out'n see us. Talk to us. At fuhst, she'd come right out'n da fiel's an' talk to us. But we let'uh know dat wadn' a good t'ang t'do -- dat'd git us in troubah (trouble). Da white men wid-a w'ups, dey coudn' say nuht'n to huh, ya see, so if we let up eben-a littuh bit, eben t'tawk t'huh, it'd be de w'up on ouh back. She made awfu' shuah af'er dat nebuh to intuhfeah wid ouh wuhk. But she become ouh frien'. Jist ain't no uddah way t'say it. She tol' us, fuhst time she talk to us, t'stan' straight an' hold ouh heads up. "Don't bow down t'nobidy but God," she said, "an' eben den be proud-a who you aw." Wull dat wuz a raht strange feelin', holdin' y'head up an' walkin' lahk real people. We'd try doin' it, when de boss men wadn' nowhir aroun'. On'y den, a-couhse.

     When she fuhst stahted talkin' 'bout he'pin' us t'git away, wull, we figgered it-uz some trick-a de massa t'see who be da like'y trubba-makuhs (troublemakers) 'mongst us. But she fine'y made us beliebe dat she wuz ser'ous. An' den she stahted gibbin' us dese littuh pieces-a glass dat she say wuz wuhth-a big value. Wull, we all knew da stories 'bout how to es-cape, and some-a dem dahkies know da stories real well, so pehty soon dey's dis plan a-goin' on fuh all us t'git away. Sounded lahk jis' plain madness, lemme te'ya. But den, littuh b'littuh, we begin ta beliebe we could do it.

     We begin t'beliebe.

We begin t'hope. Ah'd neber knowed befo' what it wuz ... to hope.

Henrietta

I told him I cut the strands that held the amber and distributed beads to the women. I told them how to use them to trade, bargain and purchase their way north. With a great deal of luck, the beads would buy them their freedom, when the signal was sounded for them to go. And then he was upon me again. "What about ... what about ...?" he screamed. And I knew what he was going to ask and my fear increased. He stepped uncertainly, lurched to one side and I bolted past him, into the hall, through the kitchen, out the back door, across the lawn, to the bell that is used as a signal. Inhibited by his rage, he was stumbling and I ran ahead and got to the bell, lifted the mallet, and struck the bell with all my strength -- three times, then two, then three again. I turned and saw him almost upon me.

     He again called me the names I can't repeat, and spoke with a quiet determination that was more frightening even than his unconstrained bellowing.

     "Before I kill you," he said with hushed rage, "what about ... the other jewelry?"

Apothecary

Anytime Ah've evuh stood in this chuhch to offuh mah testimony in a prayeh meetin', it's been a brief Thank-you-God for this, that aw the othuh an' then a quick sit-down. But Ah've got moah t' say t'night, b'cause-a what's goin' on all around us now. What happened out theah at Willah Hill few weeks ago was lahk the squeezin' of a fevehed boil. Somethin' finally broke, and it's makin' an ugly mess.

    Ah have lived in the South, in this town, mah whole lahf. An' faw as long as I have known the meanin' of wohds, Ah have been ashamed of bein' a paht of it. Ah hate slavery. Ah hate what it does to evuhbody -- suhtainly faw what it does to the people who thank they benefit from it, but so much moah faw the people enslaved.

    Puhsonally, Ah thank God is a good deal greatuh than any slave-ownuh 'round heah, and even God dudn' claim to own ya. He invites ya to be his if you want to -- it's youh choice. An' don't give me that hogwash about the dahkies not bein' human. That ahgument will get you just about as fah as diggin' a well with a toothpick.

    But Ah'll tell you what Ah'm the most ashamed of, an' that is that Ah have stood by all-a mah life an' watched it happen an' done nothin' about it. Not once have Ah stood up to s'much as question it, much less condemn it. Not once have Ah evuh looked anothuh man in the face and said, Ah don't agree with you. Not once have Ah evuh spoken out in a congregation to say, This should not be.

    Mah mothuh raised me to be polite -- so polite that Ah thought Ah was nevuh to offuh disagreement to anothuh puhson. Ah have left dissension and debate t' othuh folk. But no moah.

Banker

They wadn't nothin' wrong with Waltuh Hunt. Oh, hell, no, he wadn' what eny'body would likely call a saint aw nothin' lahk that. Ha! Since when's that been a requiahment f' gettin' a job done, f' God's sake. B'sides, that's a mattuh of pehspective. He was a man's man, that's what he was. He knew how t'run that big ol' plantation, and he knew how t'make money, which he deposited in mah bank, thank-ya very much, and he knew how t'keep them nigguhs in line ... well, if it hadn'-a been faw th' fact that he married damned No'th'n royalty!

     If that woman had died in childbu'th, that would've been a blessin' to all of us. Ah figguh she did somethin' t'kill those babies, just to spite him. She's the type that'd do it -- takin' his 'eihs (heirs) away, makin' shuah she didn' fohm no pehmanent attachment to th' great land-a th' South. Prob'ly a witch with huh own coven 'round heah someplace. Didn' even have the decency to stay home when she got in a fam'ly way -- clumpin' around town like a sow rootin' fuh a place t'farrah (farrow).

Apothecary

Mah mothuh's been a God-fearin' Baptist since huh convehsion as a child, and a membuh of this chuhch since befo' Ah was bohn. Y'all know huh t'be one-a the sweetest, gentlest people y'll evuh know. She loves evuh one of ya. But she hates that some of you aw ownuhs of slaves -- that ya hold othuh humans in bondage an' treat'em the way ya do. She came home just the othuh day from a missionary meetin' at this very chuhch with teahs-a frustration, an' then was one-a the few times Ah evuh heahd that little woman raise huh voice. "Ah know slavery is wrong," she declahed, "so why dudn' the Bible say so? Theah ah people in that chuhch that have to see it in God's own han'writin' befoah they'll believe it!"

    Ah thought Ah was bein' kind all-a these yeahs, but fact is Ah was bein' weak. Ah am an apothecary -- a respected businessman in this town. Ah am a deacon in this chuhch and a Sunday school teachuh. Ah suhve on the town council and Ah am a volunteah fiehman. Yet Ah have a yellah streak down mah back so old an' hahd that it may be the only thang holdin' me up anymoah. And Ah'm tihed of it! Slavery is rippin' apaht evuhbody touched by it, and Ah am ready to do what Ah can to change that. Even if it's just a little, and it will be, it will be somethin'. With God as mah witness an' mah strength, Ah will stand up! Ah will speak out! Ah will mahch, Ah will fight, Ah will not give in!

Jenny

Oh deah Lawd. Sweet Jesus in Heaben. Ida done tol' me whut'z a-goin' on at-a couhthouse. Oh deah Lawd, Ah got to git deah!

Banker

Theah's a bunch of us use-ta go out f' catfish. Ah sweah, Waltuh Hunt always got the most an' the biggest evuh time. Don' know how he did it. He claimed that damn stinky rotten bait-a his had the blood of a niggah vuhgin in it, lahk they was such a thang. Then he'd laugh, darin' us to believe him aw not. Whatevuh it was, those big ol' whiskery monstahs went faw it. And then would he evuh jibe us. Oh, yeah, you wanna see Waltuh Hunt laugh, all you had to do was keep an eye on'im when he had it all ovuh somebody. He lahked ta beat you down, whatevuh you weh doin'. He was a real man.

     Ah just wish Ah was on that jury. Ah was hopin' Ah would-a been. Because that ungrateful bitch needs to be hung by huh neck from the highest limb of th' tallest tree, an' left theah till huh bones aw picked clean an' drop off one by one. An' by God, Ah ain't th' only one believes that. Not by a long shot. That's f' damned shuah.

     God has blessed the South. But we got to be on constant guahd to protect ouhselves from those that would demean us and gnaw away at ouh prosperiteh.

Jenny

(Singing)

Heaben's angels, light de way

Dat we trabel eb'uh day.

Show de path de saints hab trod

     As we jouhney home ta God.

Oh, blesséd angels, light de way.

Henrietta

I prayed for the courage to stand up to him. I said, "Whatever of value I've had to give, I've given it to them. I pray to God they can escape the avaricious tyranny of heartless heathens like you." I had never spoken so ignobly in my life, and this to a man I had once loved with all my heart; but I could not restrain myself.

     He stepped toward me and I knew his intent. I had earlier noticed an axe nearby, and I grabbed it then and swung it ineptly, intending only to thwart his blows, that I might get away. I swear to God in heaven, I had no thought of killing him. I wanted only to prevent his advance upon me. But the edge of the blade seemed to find its own mark, and blood pulsed from his head, and he fell, gasped once, and died.

     The sound of the bell had been their signal to go. The near ones heard, the word was spread -- with the help of some overseers, whose names I cannot divulge. In less than an hour the slaves were gone -- most of them -- carrying beads of amber, chains of silver, clasps of gold, stones of diamond, ruby and jade. A few of the slaves remained: seven men who, from their own sad experiences, fear the result of failure more than they long for the possibility of success; five orphaned children, overlooked by eager adults; and a mother who refuses to leave the bedside of her two dying daughters, who whispered of dreams that they glimpsed for a moment in one small amber bead.

     That is my story. Apply your law and do what you will. My only crime was to give freedom to people who should never have been enslaved. My husband's life was not too much to give for that ... nor is mine, if that is your decision.

     When we grab and hold that which was never ours to take, we are thieves of a despicable ilk. When what we grab and hold is a human life, we are so reprehensible in our wrongdoing that there is no suitable name.

     If a few baubles gained the freedom for a few people, then what I've done has not been in vain.

     And, so, I rest my case.

           My life is in your hands.

                        My heart is in the hands of God.

Judge

Ah don't remembuh that Ah evuh presided over a trial wheah Ah didn't leahn somethin', and much of the time it was somethin' faihly (fairly) impohtant. Ah've never had a trial where Ah leahned as much as Ah leahned heah.

     Ah have leahned about my neighbahs who live around me. Ah have leahned about the mehchants with whom Ah trade. Ah have leahned about the men who sit around theah domino games down at the blacksmith shop and Ah have leahned about the women who sit in suhcles (circles) and gossip as they quilt and knit and sew. Ah have leahned about the people who kneel with me in the house of wohship, and about the ministah who stands befo' us. Ah have leahned much moah about many of you than Ah evuh knew befoah.

     Ah look out at y'all, sittin' heah, fillin' this chamber t' ovuhflowin', waitin' to heah a vehdict that really, when it comes raht down to it, means nothin' at all to you, compahed to what it means to huh. Yet you aw filled with a shahp eagehness that is cuttin' away at youh insides. Just because you want to know: Did we get justice? Did we get ouh revenge? -- because she may have stahted some kind of revolution -- even if it goes no fuhther than youh back doah, a revolution.

     Aw was she actin' in self-defense? Is she blameless in what she did? -- because she took a stand for suhvival? -- not just faw huhself but faw numerous othuh people on that plantation ... people whose voices aw disregahded and whose heahts aw ignoahed, simply because theah skin is a different colah.

     This jury of twelve honorable men wuh chahged with makin' that decision.

     If evuh we have behaved lahk decent an' reasonable people, let this be that time ... even if weah only pretendin'. Mistuh Foahman, has the jury reached a vuhdict?

Banker

What the hail is the big deal in figurin' out what's raht an' wrong? Raht is raht an' wrong is wrong. Seems simple enough t'me. Somebody lahk that theah Miz Hunt just wastes evuhbody's time tryin' t'fight the inevitability of the way thangs ah. Hail, it's obvious as balls on a bull that if them damn nigguhs had any smahts a-tall, they wouldn'-a nevuh let anybody catch'em an' ship'em off the fuhst place. They aw strong as oxes but dumber'n cow shit. When it comes raht down to it, we all git what we desuhve.

     Yes suh! This is the South, wheah thangs move raht along in a divine kind-a way! -- wheah we don't need the lahks of Henrietta Hunt. God bless the South!