“God gave us only over beast, fish,
fowl,
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
By his donation. But man over man
He made not lord; such title to himself
Reserving, human left from human free.”
MILTON
My wife and myself were born in different
towns in the State of Georgia, which is one of the
principal slave States. It is true, our condition
as slaves was not by any means the worst; but the mere
idea that we were held as chattels, and deprived of
all legal rights the thought that we had
to give up our hard earnings to a tyrant, to enable
him to live in idleness and luxury the thought
that we could not call the bones and sinews that God
gave us our own: but above all, the fact that
another man had the power to tear from our cradle the
new-born babe and sell it in the shambles like a brute,
and then scourge us if we dared to lift a finger to
save it from such a fate, haunted us for years.
But in December, 1848, a plan suggested
itself that proved quite successful, and in eight
days after it was first thought of we were free from
the horrible trammels of slavery, rejoicing and praising
God in the glorious sunshine of liberty.
My wife’s first master was her
father, and her mother his slave, and the latter is
still the slave of his widow.
Notwithstanding my wife being of African
extraction on her mother’s side, she is almost
white in fact, she is so nearly so that
the tyrannical old lady to whom she first belonged
became so annoyed, at finding her frequently mistaken
for a child of the family, that she gave her when
eleven years of age to a daughter, as a wedding present.
This separated my wife from her mother, and also from
several other dear friends. But the incessant
cruelty of her old mistress made the change of owners
or treatment so desirable, that she did not grumble
much at this cruel separation.
It may be remembered that slavery
in America is not at all confined to persons of any
particular complexion; there are a very large number
of slaves as white as any one; but as the evidence
of a slave is not admitted in court against a free
white person, it is almost impossible for a white
child, after having been kidnapped and sold into or
reduced to slavery, in a part of the country where
it is not known (as often is the case), ever to recover
its freedom.
I have myself conversed with several
slaves who told me that their parents were white and
free; but that they were stolen away from them and
sold when quite young. As they could not tell
their address, and also as the parents did not know
what had become of their lost and dear little ones,
of course all traces of each other were gone.
The following facts are sufficient
to prove, that he who has the power, and is inhuman
enough to trample upon the sacred rights of the weak,
cares nothing for race or colour:
In March, 1818, three ships arrived
at New Orleans, bringing several hundred German emigrants
from the province of Alsace, on the lower Rhine.
Among them were Daniel Muller and his two daughters,
Dorothea and Salome, whose mother had died on the
passage. Soon after his arrival, Muller, taking
with him his two daughters, both young children, went
up the river to Attakapas parish, to work on the plantation
of John F. Miller. A few weeks later, his relatives,
who had remained at New Orleans, learned that he had
died of the fever of the country. They immediately
sent for the two girls; but they had disappeared,
and the relatives, notwithstanding repeated and persevering
inquiries and researches, could find no traces of them.
They were at length given up for dead. Dorothea
was never again heard of; nor was any thing known
of Salome from 1818 till 1843.
In the summer of that year, Madame
Karl, a German woman who had come over in the same
ship with the Mullers, was passing through a street
in New Orleans, and accidentally saw Salome in a wine-shop,
belonging to Louis Belmonte, by whom she was held
as a slave. Madame Karl recognised her at once,
and carried her to the house of another German woman,
Mrs. Schubert, who was Salome’s cousin and godmother,
and who no sooner set eyes on her than, without having
any intimation that the discovery had been previously
made, she unhesitatingly exclaimed, “My God!
here is the long-lost Salome Muller.”
The Law Reporter, in its account of this case, says:
“As many of the German emigrants
of 1818 as could be gathered together were brought
to the house of Mrs. Schubert, and every one of the
number who had any recollection of the little girl
upon the passage, or any acquaintance with her father
and mother, immediately identified the woman before
them as the long-lost Salome Muller. By all these
witnesses, who appeared at the trial, the identity
was fully established. The family resemblance
in every feature was declared to be so remarkable,
that some of the witnesses did not hesitate to say
that they should know her among ten thousand; that
they were as certain the plaintiff was Salome Muller,
the daughter of Daniel and Dorothea Muller, as of
their own existence.”
Among the witnesses who appeared in
Court was the midwife who had assisted at the birth
of Salome. She testified to the existence of
certain peculiar marks upon the body of the child,
which were found, exactly as described, by the surgeons
who were appointed by the Court to make an examination
for the purpose.
There was no trace of African descent
in any feature of Salome Muller. She had long,
straight, black hair, hazel eyes, thin lips, and a
Roman nose. The complexion of her face and neck
was as dark as that of the darkest brunette.
It appears, however, that, during the twenty-five
years of her servitude, she had been exposed to the
sun’s rays in the hot climate of Louisiana,
with head and neck unsheltered, as is customary with
the female slaves, while labouring in the cotton or
the sugar field. Those parts of her person which
had been shielded from the sun were comparatively
white.
Belmonte, the pretended owner of the
girl, had obtained possession of her by an act of
sale from John F. Miller, the planter in whose service
Salome’s father died. This Miller was a
man of consideration and substance, owning large sugar
estates, and bearing a high reputation for honour
and honesty, and for indulgent treatment of his slaves.
It was testified on the trial that he had said to
Belmonte, a few weeks after the sale of Salome, “that
she was white, and had as much right to her freedom
as any one, and was only to be retained in slavery
by care and kind treatment.” The broker
who negotiated the sale from Miller to Belmonte, in
1838, testified in Court that he then thought, and
still thought, that the girl was white!
The case was elaborately argued on
both sides, but was at length decided in favour of
the girl, by the Supreme Court declaring that “she
was free and white, and therefore unlawfully held in
bondage.”
The Rev. George Bourne, of Virginia,
in his Picture of Slavery, published in 1834, relates
the case of a white boy who, at the age of seven,
was stolen from his home in Ohio, tanned and stained
in such a way that he could not be distinguished from
a person of colour, and then sold as a slave in Virginia.
At the age of twenty, he made his escape, by running
away, and happily succeeded in rejoining his parents.
I have known worthless white people
to sell their own free children into slavery; and,
as there are good-for-nothing white as well as coloured
persons everywhere, no one, perhaps, will wonder at
such inhuman transactions: particularly in the
Southern States of America, where I believe there
is a greater want of humanity and high principle amongst
the whites, than among any other civilized people in
the world.
I know that those who are not familiar
with the working of “the peculiar institution,”
can scarcely imagine any one so totally devoid of
all natural affection as to sell his own offspring
into returnless bondage. But Shakespeare, that
great observer of human nature, says:
“With caution judge of probabilities.
Things deemed unlikely, e’en impossible,
Experience often shews us to be true.”
My wife’s new mistress was decidedly
more humane than the majority of her class.
My wife has always given her credit for not exposing
her to many of the worst features of slavery.
For instance, it is a common practice in the slave
States for ladies, when angry with their maids, to
send them to the calybuce sugar-house, or to some other
place established for the purpose of punishing slaves,
and have them severely flogged; and I am sorry it
is a fact, that the villains to whom those defenceless
creatures are sent, not only flog them as they are
ordered, but frequently compel them to submit to the
greatest indignity. Oh! if there is any one
thing under the wide canopy of heaven, horrible enough
to stir a man’s soul, and to make his very blood
boil, it is the thought of his dear wife, his unprotected
sister, or his young and virtuous daughters, struggling
to save themselves from falling a prey to such demons!
It always appears strange to me that
any one who was not born a slaveholder, and steeped
to the very core in the demoralizing atmosphere of
the Southern States, can in any way palliate slavery.
It is still more surprising to see virtuous ladies
looking with patience upon, and remaining indifferent
to, the existence of a system that exposes nearly
two millions of their own sex in the manner I have
mentioned, and that too in a professedly free and Christian
country. There is, however, great consolation
in knowing that God is just, and will not let the
oppressor of the weak, and the spoiler of the virtuous,
escape unpunished here and hereafter.
I believe a similar retribution to
that which destroyed Sodom is hanging over the slaveholders.
My sincere prayer is that they may not provoke God,
by persisting in a reckless course of wickedness, to
pour out his consuming wrath upon them.
I must now return to our history.
My old master had the reputation of
being a very humane and Christian man, but he thought
nothing of selling my poor old father, and dear aged
mother, at separate times, to different persons, to
be dragged off never to behold each other again, till
summoned to appear before the great tribunal of heaven.
But, oh! what a happy meeting it will be on that
day for those faithful souls. I say a happy meeting,
because I never saw persons more devoted to the service
of God than they. But how will the case stand
with those reckless traffickers in human flesh and
blood, who plunged the poisonous dagger of separation
into those loving hearts which God had for so many
years closely joined together nay, sealed
as it were with his own hands for the eternal courts
of heaven? It is not for me to say what will
become of those heartless tyrants. I must leave
them in the hands of an all-wise and just God, who
will, in his own good time, and in his own way, avenge
the wrongs of his oppressed people.
My old master also sold a dear brother
and a sister, in the same manner as he did my father
and mother. The reason he assigned for disposing
of my parents, as well as of several other aged slaves,
was, that “they were getting old, and would
soon become valueless in the market, and therefore
he intended to sell off all the old stock, and buy
in a young lot.” A most disgraceful conclusion
for a man to come to, who made such great professions
of religion!
This shameful conduct gave me a thorough
hatred, not for true Christianity, but for slave-holding
piety.
My old master, then, wishing to make
the most of the rest of his slaves, apprenticed a
brother and myself out to learn trades: he to
a blacksmith, and myself to a cabinet-maker.
If a slave has a good trade, he will let or sell
for more than a person without one, and many slave-holders
have their slaves taught trades on this account.
But before our time expired, my old master wanted
money; so he sold my brother, and then mortgaged my
sister, a dear girl about fourteen years of age, and
myself, then about sixteen, to one of the banks, to
get money to speculate in cotton. This we knew
nothing of at the moment; but time rolled on, the
money became due, my master was unable to meet his
payments; so the bank had us placed upon the auction
stand and sold to the highest bidder.
My poor sister was sold first:
she was knocked down to a planter who resided at some
distance in the country. Then I was called upon
the stand. While the auctioneer was crying the
bids, I saw the man that had purchased my sister getting
her into a cart, to take her to his home. I
at once asked a slave friend who was standing near
the platform, to run and ask the gentleman if he would
please to wait till I was sold, in order that I might
have an opportunity of bidding her good-bye.
He sent me word back that he had some distance to
go, and could not wait.
I then turned to the auctioneer, fell
upon my knees, and humbly prayed him to let me just
step down and bid my last sister farewell. But,
instead of granting me this request, he grasped me
by the neck, and in a commanding tone of voice, and
with a violent oath, exclaimed, “Get up!
You can do the wench no good; therefore there is no
use in your seeing her.”
On rising, I saw the cart in which
she sat moving slowly off; and, as she clasped her
hands with a grasp that indicated despair, and looked
pitifully round towards me, I also saw the large silent
tears trickling down her cheeks. She made a
farewell bow, and buried her face in her lap.
This seemed more than I could bear. It appeared
to swell my aching heart to its utmost. But
before I could fairly recover, the poor girl was gone; gone,
and I have never had the good fortune to see her from
that day to this! Perhaps I should have never
heard of her again, had it not been for the untiring
efforts of my good old mother, who became free a few
years ago by purchase, and, after a great deal of
difficulty, found my sister residing with a family
in Mississippi. My mother at once wrote to me,
informing me of the fact, and requesting me to do
something to get her free; and I am happy to say that,
partly by lecturing occasionally, and through the
sale of an engraving of my wife in the disguise in
which she escaped, together with the extreme kindness
and generosity of Miss Burdett Coutts, Mr. George Richardson
of Plymouth, and a few other friends, I have nearly
accomplished this. It would be to me a great
and ever-glorious achievement to restore my sister
to our dear mother, from whom she was forcibly driven
in early life.
I was knocked down to the cashier
of the bank to which we were mortgaged, and ordered
to return to the cabinet shop where I previously worked.
But the thought of the harsh auctioneer
not allowing me to bid my dear sister farewell, sent
red-hot indignation darting like lightning through
every vein. It quenched my tears, and appeared
to set my brain on fire, and made me crave for power
to avenge our wrongs! But alas! we were only
slaves, and had no legal rights; consequently we were
compelled to smother our wounded feelings, and crouch
beneath the iron heel of despotism.
I must now give the account of our
escape; but, before doing so, it may be well to quote
a few passages from the fundamental laws of slavery;
in order to give some idea of the legal as well as
the social tyranny from which we fled.
According to the law of Louisiana,
“A slave is one who is in the power of a master
to whom he belongs. The master may sell him,
dispose of his person, his industry, and his labour;
he can do nothing, possess nothing, nor acquire anything
but what must belong to his master.”.
In South Carolina it is expressed in the following language:
Slaves shall be deemed, sold, taken, reputed and judged in law to be chattels
personal in the hands of their owners and possessors, and their executors,
administrators, and assigns, to all intents, constructions, and purposes
whatsoever.
The Constitution of Georgia has the
following: “Any
person who shall maliciously dismember or deprive a
slave of life, shall suffer such punishment as would
be inflicted in case the like offence had been committed
on a free white person, and on the like proof, except
in case of insurrection of such slave, and unless such
death should happen by Accident
in giving such slave moderate
correction.
I have known slaves to be beaten to
death, but as they died under “moderate correction,”
it was quite lawful; and of course the murderers were
not interfered with.
“If any slave, who shall be
out of the house or plantation where such slave shall
live, or shall be usually employed, or without some
white person in company with such slave, shall refuse
to submit to undergo the examination of
any white person, (let him be ever so drunk
or crazy), it shall be lawful for such white person
to pursue, apprehend, and moderately correct such
slave; and if such slave shall assault and strike
such white person, such slave may be lawfully
killed.”.
“Provided always,” says
the law, “that such striking be not done by the
command and in the defence of the person or property
of the owner, or other person having the government
of such slave; in which case the slave shall be wholly
excused.”
According to this law, if a slave,
by the direction of his overseer, strike a white person
who is beating said overseer’s pig, “the
slave shall be wholly excused.” But, should
the bondman, of his own accord, fight to defend his
wife, or should his terrified daughter instinctively
raise her hand and strike the wretch who attempts to
violate her chastity, he or she shall, saith the model
republican law, suffer death.
From having been myself a slave for
nearly twenty-three years, I am quite prepared to
say, that the practical working of slavery is worse
than the odious laws by which it is governed.
At an early age we were taken by the
persons who held us as property to Macon, the largest
town in the interior of the State of Georgia, at which
place we became acquainted with each other for several
years before our marriage; in fact, our marriage was
postponed for some time simply because one of the
unjust and worse than Pagan laws under which we lived
compelled all children of slave mothers to follow their
condition. That is to say, the father of the
slave may be the President of the Republic; but if
the mother should be a slave at the infant’s
birth, the poor child is ever legally doomed to the
same cruel fate.
It is a common practice for gentlemen
(if I may call them such), moving in the highest circles
of society, to be the fathers of children by their
slaves, whom they can and do sell with the greatest
impunity; and the more pious, beautiful, and virtuous
the girls are, the greater the price they bring, and
that too for the most infamous purposes.
Any man with money (let him be ever
such a rough brute), can buy a beautiful and virtuous
girl, and force her to live with him in a criminal
connexion; and as the law says a slave shall have no
higher appeal than the mere will of the master, she
cannot escape, unless it be by flight or death.
In endeavouring to reconcile a girl
to her fate, the master sometimes says that he would
marry her if it was not unlawful. However, he will
always consider her to be his wife, and will treat
her as such; and she, on the other hand, may regard
him as her lawful husband; and if they have any children,
they will be free and well educated.
I am in duty bound to add, that while
a great majority of such men care nothing for the
happiness of the women with whom they live, nor for
the children of whom they are the fathers, there are
those to be found, even in that heterogeneous mass
of licentious monsters, who are true to their pledges.
But as the woman and her children are legally the
property of the man, who stands in the anomalous relation
to them of husband and father, as well as master,
they are liable to be seized and sold for his debts,
should he become involved.
There are several cases on record
where such persons have been sold and separated for
life. I know of some myself, but I have only
space to glance at one.
I knew a very humane and wealthy gentleman,
that bought a woman, with whom he lived as his wife.
They brought up a family of children, among whom
were three nearly white, well educated, and beautiful
girls.
It is unlawful in the slave States
for any one of purely European descent to intermarry
with a person of African extraction; though a white
man may live with as many coloured women as he pleases
without materially damaging his reputation in Southern
society.
On the father being suddenly killed
it was found that he had not left a will; but, as
the family had always heard him say that he had no
surviving relatives, they felt that their liberty and
property were quite secured to them, and, knowing
the insults to which they were exposed, now their
protector was no more, they were making preparations
to leave for a free State.
But, poor creatures, they were soon
sadly undeceived. A villain residing at a distance,
hearing of the circumstance, came forward and swore
that he was a relative of the deceased; and as this
man bore, or assumed, Mr. Slator’s name, the
case was brought before one of those horrible tribunals,
presided over by a second Judge Jeffreys, and calling
itself a court of justice, but before whom no coloured
person, nor an abolitionist, was ever known to get
his full rights.
A verdict was given in favour of the
plaintiff, whom the better portion of the community
thought had wilfully conspired to cheat the family.
The heartless wretch not only took
the ordinary property, but actually had the aged and
friendless widow, and all her fatherless children,
except Frank, a fine young man about twenty-two years
of age, and Mary, a very nice girl, a little younger
than her brother, brought to the auction stand and
sold to the highest bidder. Mrs. Slator had cash
enough, that her husband and master left, to purchase
the liberty of herself and children; but on her attempting
to do so, the pusillanimous scoundrel, who had robbed
them of their freedom, claimed the money as his property;
and, poor creature, she had to give it up. According
to law, as will be seen hereafter, a slave cannot
own anything. The old lady never recovered from
her sad affliction.
At the sale she was brought up first,
and after being vulgarly criticised, in the presence
of all her distressed family, was sold to a cotton
planter, who said he wanted the “proud old critter
to go to his plantation, to look after the little
woolly heads, while their mammies were working in
the field.”
When the sale was over, then came the separation,
and
“O, deep was the anguish of that
slave mother’s heart,
When called from her darlings for ever
to part;
The poor mourning mother of reason bereft,
Soon ended her sorrows, and sank cold
in death.”
Antoinette, the flower of the family,
a girl who was much beloved by all who knew her, for
her Christ-like piety, dignity of manner, as well
as her great talents and extreme beauty, was bought
by an uneducated and drunken salve-dealer.
I cannot give a more correct description
of the scene, when she was called from her brother
to the stand, than will be found in the following
lines
“Why stands she near the auction
stand?
That girl so young and fair;
What brings her to this dismal place?
Why stands she weeping there?
Why does she raise that bitter cry?
Why hangs her head with shame,
As now the auctioneer’s rough voice
So rudely calls her name!
But see! she grasps a manly hand,
And in a voice so low,
As scarcely to be heard, she says,
“My brother, must I
go?”
A moment’s pause: then, midst
a wail
Of agonizing woe,
His answer falls upon the ear,
“Yes, sister, you must
go!
No longer can my arm defend,
No longer can I save
My sister from the horrid fate
That waits her as a slave!”
Blush, Christian, blush! for e’en
the dark
Untutored heathen see
Thy inconsistency, and lo!
They scorn thy God, and thee!”
The low trader said to a kind lady
who wished to purchase Antoinette out of his hands,
“I reckon I’ll not sell the smart critter
for ten thousand dollars; I always wanted her for
my own use.” The lady, wishing to remonstrate
with him, commenced by saying, “You should remember,
Sir, that there is a just God.” Hoskens
not understanding Mrs. Huston, interrupted her by
saying, “I does, and guess its monstrous kind
an’ him to send such likely niggers for our
convenience.” Mrs. Huston finding that
a long course of reckless wickedness, drunkenness,
and vice, had destroyed in Hoskens every noble impulse,
left him.
Antoinette, poor girl, also seeing
that there was no help for her, became frantic.
I can never forget her cries of despair, when Hoskens
gave the order for her to be taken to his house, and
locked in an upper room. On Hoskens entering
the apartment, in a state of intoxication, a fearful
struggle ensued. The brave Antoinette broke loose
from him, pitched herself head foremost through the
window, and fell upon the pavement below.
Her bruised but unpolluted body was
soon picked up restoratives brought doctor
called in; but, alas! it was too late: her pure
and noble spirit had fled away to be at rest in those
realms of endless bliss, “where the wicked cease
from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”
Antoinette like many other noble women
who are deprived of liberty, still
“Holds something sacred, something
undefiled;
Some pledge and keepsake of their higher
nature.
And, like the diamond in the dark, retains
Some quenchless gleam of the celestial
light.”
On Hoskens fully realizing the fact
that his victim was no more, he exclaimed “By
thunder I am a used-up man!” The sudden disappointment,
and the loss of two thousand dollars, was more than
he could endure: so he drank more than ever,
and in a short time died, raving mad with delirium
tremens.
The villain Slator said to Mrs. Huston,
the kind lady who endeavoured to purchase Antoinette
from Hoskens, “Nobody needn’t talk to me
’bout buying them ar likely niggers, for I’m
not going to sell em.” “But Mary
is rather delicate,” said Mrs. Huston, “and,
being unaccustomed to hard work, cannot do you much
service on a plantation.” “I don’t
want her for the field,” replied Slator, “but
for another purpose.” Mrs. Huston understood
what this meant, and instantly exclaimed, “Oh,
but she is your cousin!” “The devil she
is!” said Slator; and added, “Do you mean
to insult me, Madam, by saying that I am related to
niggers?” “No,” replied Mrs. Huston,
“I do not wish to offend you, Sir. But
wasn’t Mr. Slator, Mary’s father, your
uncle?” “Yes, I calculate he was,”
said Slator; “but I want you and everybody to
understand that I’m no kin to his niggers.”
“Oh, very well,” said Mrs. Huston; adding,
“Now what will you take for the poor girl?”
“Nothin’,” he replied; “for,
as I said before, I’m not goin’ to sell,
so you needn’t trouble yourself no more.
If the critter behaves herself, I’ll do as well
by her as any man.”
Slator spoke up boldly, but his manner
and sheepish look clearly indicated that
“His heart within him was at strife
With such accursed gains;
For he knew whose passions gave her life,
Whose blood ran in her veins.”
“The monster led her from the door,
He led her by the hand,
To be his slave and paramour
In a strange and distant land!”
Poor Frank and his sister were handcuffed
together, and confined in prison. Their dear
little twin brother and sister were sold, and taken
where they knew not. But it often happens that
misfortune causes those whom we counted dearest to
shrink away; while it makes friends of those whom
we least expected to take any interest in our affairs.
Among the latter class Frank found two comparatively
new but faithful friends to watch the gloomy paths
of the unhappy little twins.
In a day or two after the sale, Slator
had two fast horses put to a large light van, and
placed in it a good many small but valuable things
belonging to the distressed family. He also took
with him Frank and Mary, as well as all the money
for the spoil; and after treating all his low friends
and bystanders, and drinking deeply himself, he started
in high glee for his home in South Carolina.
But they had not proceeded many miles, before Frank
and his sister discovered that Slator was too drunk
to drive. But he, like most tipsy men, thought
he was all right; and as he had with him some of the
ruined family’s best brandy and wine, such as
he had not been accustomed to, and being a thirsty
soul, he drank till the reins fell from his fingers,
and in attempting to catch them he tumbled out of
the vehicle, and was unable to get up. Frank
and Mary there and then contrived a plan by which to
escape. As they were still handcuffed by one
wrist each, they alighted, took from the drunken assassin’s
pocket the key, undid the iron bracelets, and placed
them upon Slator, who was better fitted to wear such
ornaments. As the demon lay unconscious of what
was taking place, Frank and Mary took from him the
large sum of money that was realized at the sale,
as well as that which Slator had so very meanly obtained
from their poor mother. They then dragged him
into the woods, tied him to a tree, and left the inebriated
robber to shift for himself, while they made good
their escape to Savannah. The fugitives being
white, of course no one suspected that they were slaves.
Slator was not able to call any one
to his rescue till late the next day; and as there
were no railroads in that part of the country at that
time, it was not until late the following day that
Slator was able to get a party to join him for the
chase. A person informed Slator that he had
met a man and woman, in a trap, answering to the description
of those whom he had lost, driving furiously towards
Savannah. So Slator and several slavehunters
on horseback started off in full tilt, with their
bloodhounds, in pursuit of Frank and Mary.
On arriving at Savannah, the hunters
found that the fugitives had sold the horses and trap,
and embarked as free white persons, for New York.
Slator’s disappointment and rascality so preyed
upon his base mind, that he, like Judas, went and
hanged himself.
As soon as Frank and Mary were safe,
they endeavoured to redeem their good mother.
But, alas! she was gone; she had passed on to the
realm of spirit life.
In due time Frank learned from his
friends in Georgia where his little brother and sister
dwelt. So he wrote at once to purchase them,
but the persons with whom they lived would not sell
them. After failing in several attempts to buy
them, Frank cultivated large whiskers and moustachios,
cut off his hair, put on a wig and glasses, and went
down as a white man, and stopped in the neighbourhood
where his sister was; and after seeing her and also
his little brother, arrangements were made for them
to meet at a particular place on a Sunday, which they
did, and got safely off.
I saw Frank myself, when he came for
the little twins. Though I was then quite a
lad, I well remember being highly delighted by hearing
him tell how nicely he and Mary had served Slator.
Frank had so completely disguised
or changed his appearance that his little sister did
not know him, and would not speak till he showed their
mother’s likeness; the sight of which melted
her to tears, for she knew the face.
Frank might have said to her
“’O, Emma! O, my sister,
speak to me!
Dost thou not know me, that I am thy brother?
Come to me, little Emma, thou shalt dwell
With me henceforth, and know no care or
want.’
Emma was silent for a space, as if
’Twere hard to summon up a human voice.”
Frank and Mary’s mother was my wife’s
own dear aunt.
After this great diversion from our
narrative, which I hope dear reader, you will excuse,
I shall return at once to it.
My wife was torn from her mother’s
embrace in childhood, and taken to a distant part
of the country. She had seen so many other children
separated from their parents in this cruel manner,
that the mere thought of her ever becoming the mother
of a child, to linger out a miserable existence under
the wretched system of American slavery, appeared
to fill her very soul with horror; and as she had taken
what I felt to be an important view of her condition,
I did not, at first, press the marriage, but agreed
to assist her in trying to devise some plan by which
we might escape from our unhappy condition, and then
be married.
We thought of plan after plan, but
they all seemed crowded with insurmountable difficulties.
We knew it was unlawful for any public conveyance
to take us as passengers, without our master’s
consent. We were also perfectly aware of the
startling fact, that had we left without this consent
the professional slave-hunters would have soon had
their ferocious bloodhounds baying on our track, and
in a short time we should have been dragged back to
slavery, not to fill the more favourable situations
which we had just left, but to be separated for life,
and put to the very meanest and most laborious drudgery;
or else have been tortured to death as examples, in
order to strike terror into the hearts of others,
and thereby prevent them from even attempting to escape
from their cruel taskmasters. It is a fact worthy
of remark, that nothing seems to give the slaveholders
so much pleasure as the catching and torturing of
fugitives. They had much rather take the keen
and poisonous lash, and with it cut their poor trembling
victims to atoms, than allow one of them to escape
to a free country, and expose the infamous system
from which he fled.
The greatest excitement prevails at
a slave-hunt. The slaveholders and their hired
ruffians appear to take more pleasure in this inhuman
pursuit than English sportsmen do in chasing a fox
or a stag. Therefore, knowing what we should
have been compelled to suffer, if caught and taken
back, we were more than anxious to hit upon a plan
that would lead us safely to a land of liberty.
But, after puzzling our brains for
years, we were reluctantly driven to the sad conclusion,
that it was almost impossible to escape from slavery
in Georgia, and travel 1,000 miles across the slave
States. We therefore resolved to get the consent
of our owners, be married, settle down in slavery,
and endeavour to make ourselves as comfortable as
possible under that system; but at the same time ever
to keep our dim eyes steadily fixed upon the glimmering
hope of liberty, and earnestly pray God mercifully
to assist us to escape from our unjust thraldom.
We were married, and prayed and toiled
on till December, 1848, at which time (as I have stated)
a plan suggested itself that proved quite successful,
and in eight days after it was first thought of we
were free from the horrible trammels of slavery, and
glorifying God who had brought us safely out of a
land of bondage.
Knowing that slaveholders have the
privilege of taking their slaves to any part of the
country they think proper, it occurred to me that,
as my wife was nearly white, I might get her to disguise
herself as an invalid gentleman, and assume to be
my master, while I could attend as his slave, and
that in this manner we might effect our escape.
After I thought of the plan, I suggested it to my
wife, but at first she shrank from the idea.
She thought it was almost impossible for her to assume
that disguise, and travel a distance of 1,000 miles
across the slave States. However, on the other
hand, she also thought of her condition. She
saw that the laws under which we lived did not recognize
her to be a woman, but a mere chattel, to be bought
and sold, or otherwise dealt with as her owner might
see fit. Therefore the more she contemplated
her helpless condition, the more anxious she was to
escape from it. So she said, “I think
it is almost too much for us to undertake; however,
I feel that God is on our side, and with his assistance,
notwithstanding all the difficulties, we shall be able
to succeed. Therefore, if you will purchase the
disguise, I will try to carry out the plan.”
But after I concluded to purchase
the disguise, I was afraid to go to any one to ask
him to sell me the articles. It is unlawful in
Georgia for a white man to trade with slaves without
the master’s consent. But, notwithstanding
this, many persons will sell a slave any article that
he can get the money to buy. Not that they sympathize
with the slave, but merely because his testimony is
not admitted in court against a free white person.
Therefore, with little difficulty
I went to different parts of the town, at odd times,
and purchased things piece by piece, (except the trowsers
which she found necessary to make,) and took them home
to the house where my wife resided. She being
a ladies’ maid, and a favourite slave in the
family, was allowed a little room to herself; and amongst
other pieces of furniture which I had made in my overtime,
was a chest of drawers; so when I took the articles
home, she locked them up carefully in these drawers.
No one about the premises knew that she had anything
of the kind. So when we fancied we had everything
ready the time was fixed for the flight. But
we knew it would not do to start off without first
getting our master’s consent to be away for a
few days. Had we left without this, they would
soon have had us back into slavery, and probably we
should never have got another fair opportunity of
even attempting to escape.
Some of the best slaveholders will
sometimes give their favourite slaves a few days’
holiday at Christmas time; so, after no little amount
of perseverance on my wife’s part, she obtained
a pass from her mistress, allowing her to be away
for a few days. The cabinet-maker with whom
I worked gave me a similar paper, but said that he
needed my services very much, and wished me to return
as soon as the time granted was up. I thanked
him kindly; but somehow I have not been able to make
it convenient to return yet; and, as the free air of
good old England agrees so well with my wife and our
dear little ones, as well as with myself, it is not
at all likely we shall return at present to the “peculiar
institution” of chains and stripes.
On reaching my wife’s cottage
she handed me her pass, and I showed mine, but at
that time neither of us were able to read them.
It is not only unlawful for slaves to be taught to
read, but in some of the States there are heavy penalties
attached, such as fines and imprisonment, which will
be vigorously enforced upon any one who is humane
enough to violate the so-called law.
The following case will serve to show
how persons are treated in the most enlightened slaveholding
community.
“INDICTMENT
Commonwealth of Virginia,
} In the Circuit
Norfolk county, ss.
} Court. The
Grand Jurors empannelled in the body of the said County
on their oath present, that Margaret Douglass, being
an evil disposed person, not having the fear of God
before her eyes, but moved and instigated by the devil,
wickedly, maliciously, and feloniously, on the fourth
day of July, in the year of our Lord one thousand
eight hundred and fifty-four, at Norfolk, in said
County, did teach a certain black girl named Kate
to read in the Bible, to the great displeasure of Almighty
God, to the pernicious example of others in like case
offending, contrary to the form of the statute in
such case made and provided, and against the peace
and dignity of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
“Victor vagabond, Prosecuting Attorney.”
“On this indictment Mrs. Douglass
was arraigned as a necessary matter of form, tried,
found guilty of course; and Judge Scalaway, before
whom she was tried, having consulted with Dr. Adams,
ordered the sheriff to place Mrs. Douglass in the
prisoner’s box, when he addressed her as follows:
’Margaret Douglass, stand up. You are guilty
of one of the vilest crimes that ever disgraced society;
and the jury have found you so. You have taught
a slave girl to read in the Bible. No enlightened
society can exist where such offences go unpunished.
The Court, in your case, do not feel for you one
solitary ray of sympathy, and they will inflict on
you the utmost penalty of the law. In any other
civilized country you would have paid the forfeit of
your crime with your life, and the Court have only
to regret that such is not the law in this country.
The sentence for your offence is, that you be imprisoned
one month in the county jail, and that you pay the
costs of this prosecution. Sheriff, remove the
prisoner to jail.’ On the publication
of these proceedings, the Doctors of Divinity preached
each a sermon on the necessity of obeying the laws;
the New York Observer noticed with much pious gladness
a revival of religion on Dr. Smith’s plantation
in Georgia, among his slaves; while the Journal of
Commerce commended this political preaching of the
Doctors of Divinity because it favoured slavery.
Let us do nothing to offend our Southern brethren.”
However, at first, we were highly
delighted at the idea of having gained permission
to be absent for a few days; but when the thought
flashed across my wife’s mind, that it was customary
for travellers to register their names in the visitors’
book at hotels, as well as in the clearance or Custom-house
book at Charleston, South Carolina it made
our spirits droop within us.
So, while sitting in our little room
upon the verge of despair, all at once my wife raised
her head, and with a smile upon her face, which was
a moment before bathed in tears, said, “I think
I have it!” I asked what it was. She
said, “I think I can make a poultice and bind
up my right hand in a sling, and with propriety ask
the officers to register my name for me.”
I thought that would do.
It then occurred to her that the smoothness
of her face might betray her; so she decided to make
another poultice, and put it in a white handkerchief
to be worn under the chin, up the cheeks, and to tie
over the head. This nearly hid the expression
of the countenance, as well as the beardless chin.
The poultice is left off in the engraving,
because the likeness could not have been taken well
with it on.
My wife, knowing that she would be
thrown a good deal into the company of gentlemen,
fancied that she could get on better if she had something
to go over the eyes; so I went to a shop and bought
a pair of green spectacles. This was in the
evening.
We sat up all night discussing the
plan, and making preparations. Just before the
time arrived, in the morning, for us to leave, I cut
off my wife’s hair square at the back of the
head, and got her to dress in the disguise and stand
out on the floor. I found that she made a most
respectable looking gentleman.
My wife had no ambition whatever to
assume this disguise, and would not have done so had
it been possible to have obtained our liberty by more
simple means; but we knew it was not customary in the
South for ladies to travel with male servants; and
therefore, notwithstanding my wife’s fair complexion,
it would have been a very difficult task for her to
have come off as a free white lady, with me as her
slave; in fact, her not being able to write would
have made this quite impossible. We knew that
no public conveyance would take us, or any other slave,
as a passenger, without our master’s consent.
This consent could never be obtained to pass into
a free State. My wife’s being muffled in
the poultices, &c., furnished a plausible excuse for
avoiding general conversation, of which most Yankee
travellers are passionately fond.
There are a large number of free negroes
residing in the southern States; but in Georgia (and
I believe in all the slave States,) every coloured
person’s complexion is prima facie evidence of
his being a slave; and the lowest villain in the country,
should he be a white man, has the legal power to arrest,
and question, in the most inquisitorial and insulting
manner, any coloured person, male or female, that he
may find at large, particularly at night and on Sundays,
without a written pass, signed by the master or some
one in authority; or stamped free papers, certifying
that the person is the rightful owner of himself.
If the coloured person refuses to
answer questions put to him, he may be beaten, and
his defending himself against this attack makes him
an outlaw, and if he be killed on the spot, the murderer
will be exempted from all blame; but after the coloured
person has answered the questions put to him, in a
most humble and pointed manner, he may then be taken
to prison; and should it turn out, after further examination,
that he was caught where he had no permission or legal
right to be, and that he has not given what they term
a satisfactory account of himself, the master will
have to pay a fine. On his refusing to do this,
the poor slave may be legally and severely flogged
by public officers. Should the prisoner prove
to be a free man, he is most likely to be both whipped
and fined.
The great majority of slaveholders
hate this class of persons with a hatred that can
only be equalled by the condemned spirits of the infernal
regions. They have no mercy upon, nor sympathy
for, any negro whom they cannot enslave. They
say that God made the black man to be a slave for
the white, and act as though they really believed that
all free persons of colour are in open rebellion to
a direct command from heaven, and that they (the whites)
are God’s chosen agents to pour out upon them
unlimited vengeance. For instance, a Bill has
been introduced in the Tennessee Legislature to prevent
free negroes from travelling on the railroads in that
State. It has passed the first reading.
The bill provides that the President who shall permit
a free negro to travel on any road within the jurisdiction
of the State under his supervision shall pay a fine
of 500 dollars; any conductor permitting a violation
of the Act shall pay 250 dollars; provided such free
negro is not under the control of a free white citizen
of Tennessee, who will vouch for the character of
said free negro in a penal bond of one thousand dollars.
The State of Arkansas has passed a law to banish
all free negroes from its bounds, and it came into
effect on the 1st day of January, 1860. Every
free negro found there after that date will be liable
to be sold into slavery, the crime of freedom being
unpardonable. The Missouri Senate has before
it a bill providing that all free negroes above the
age of eighteen years who shall be found in the State
after September, 1860, shall be sold into slavery;
and that all such negroes as shall enter the State
after September, 1861, and remain there twenty-four
hours, shall also be sold into slavery for ever.
Mississippi, Kentucky, and Georgia, and in fact, I
believe, all the slave States, are legislating in the
same manner. Thus the slaveholders make it almost
impossible for free persons of colour to get out of
the slave States, in order that they may sell them
into slavery if they don’t go. If no white
persons travelled upon railroads except those who
could get some one to vouch for their character in
a penal bond of one thousand dollars, the railroad
companies would soon go to the “wall.”
Such mean legislation is too low for comment; therefore
I leave the villainous acts to speak for themselves.
But the Dred Scott decision is the
crowning act of infamous Yankee legislation.
The Supreme Court, the highest tribunal of the Republic,
composed of nine Judge Jeffries’s, chosen both
from the free and slave States, has decided that no
coloured person, or persons of African extraction,
can ever become a citizen of the United States, or
have any rights which white men are bound to respect.
That is to say, in the opinion of this Court, robbery,
rape, and murder are not crimes when committed by
a white upon a coloured person.
Judges who will sneak from their high
and honourable position down into the lowest depths
of human depravity, and scrape up a decision like
this, are wholly unworthy the confidence of any people.
I believe such men would, if they had the power,
and were it to their temporal interest, sell their
country’s independence, and barter away every
man’s birthright for a mess of pottage.
Well may Thomas Campbell say
United States, your banner wears,
Two emblems, one
of fame,
Alas, the other that it bears
Reminds us of your shame!
The white man’s liberty in types
Stands blazoned by your stars;
But what’s the meaning of your stripes?
They mean your Negro-scars.
When the time had arrived for us to
start, we blew out the lights, knelt down, and prayed
to our Heavenly Father mercifully to assist us, as
he did his people of old, to escape from cruel bondage;
and we shall ever feel that God heard and answered
our prayer. Had we not been sustained by a kind,
and I sometimes think special, providence, we could
never have overcome the mountainous difficulties which
I am now about to describe.
After this we rose and stood for a
few moments in breathless silence, we were
afraid that some one might have been about the cottage
listening and watching our movements. So I took
my wife by the hand, stepped softly to the door, raised
the latch, drew it open, and peeped out. Though
there were trees all around the house, yet the foliage
scarcely moved; in fact, everything appeared to be
as still as death. I then whispered to my wife,
“Come, my dear, let us make a desperate leap
for liberty!” But poor thing, she shrank back,
in a state of trepidation. I turned and asked
what was the matter; she made no reply, but burst
into violent sobs, and threw her head upon my breast.
This appeared to touch my very heart, it caused me
to enter into her feelings more fully than ever.
We both saw the many mountainous difficulties that
rose one after the other before our view, and knew
far too well what our sad fate would have been, were
we caught and forced back into our slavish den.
Therefore on my wife’s fully realizing the
solemn fact that we had to take our lives, as it were,
in our hands, and contest every inch of the thousand
miles of slave territory over which we had to pass,
it made her heart almost sink within her, and, had
I known them at that time, I would have repeated the
following encouraging lines, which may not be out of
place here
“The hill, though high, I covet
to ascend,
The difficulty will not
me offend;
For I perceive the way to life lies here:
Come, pluck up heart, let’s neither
faint nor fear;
Better, though difficult, the right way
to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end
is woe.”
However, the sobbing was soon over,
and after a few moments of silent prayer she recovered
her self-possession, and said, “Come, William,
it is getting late, so now let us venture upon our
perilous journey.”
We then opened the door, and stepped
as softly out as “moonlight upon the water.”
I locked the door with my own key, which I now have
before me, and tiptoed across the yard into the street.
I say tiptoed, because we were like persons near
a tottering avalanche, afraid to move, or even breathe
freely, for fear the sleeping tyrants should be aroused,
and come down upon us with double vengeance, for daring
to attempt to escape in the manner which we contemplated.
We shook hands, said farewell, and
started in different directions for the railway station.
I took the nearest possible way to the train, for
fear I should be recognized by some one, and got into
the negro car in which I knew I should have to ride;
but my master (as I will now call my wife) took
a longer way round, and only arrived there with the
bulk of the passengers. He obtained a ticket
for himself and one for his slave to Savannah, the
first port, which was about two hundred miles off.
My master then had the luggage stowed away, and stepped
into one of the best carriages.
But just before the train moved off
I peeped through the window, and, to my great astonishment,
I saw the cabinet-maker with whom I had worked so
long, on the platform. He stepped up to the ticket-seller,
and asked some question, and then commenced looking
rapidly through the passengers, and into the carriages.
Fully believing that we were caught, I shrank into
a corner, turned my face from the door, and expected
in a moment to be dragged out. The cabinet-maker
looked into my master’s carriage, but did not
know him in his new attire, and, as God would have
it, before he reached mine the bell rang, and the train
moved off.
I have heard since that the cabinet-maker
had a presentiment that we were about to “make
tracks for parts unknown;” but, not seeing me,
his suspicions vanished, until he received the startling
intelligence that we had arrived freely in a free
State.
As soon as the train had left the
platform, my master looked round in the carriage,
and was terror-stricken to find a Mr. Cray an
old friend of my wife’s master, who dined with
the family the day before, and knew my wife from childhood sitting
on the same seat.
The doors of the American railway
carriages are at the ends. The passengers walk
up the aisle, and take seats on either side; and as
my master was engaged in looking out of the window,
he did not see who came in.
My master’s first impression,
after seeing Mr. Cray, was, that he was there for
the purpose of securing him. However, my master
thought it was not wise to give any information respecting
himself, and for fear that Mr. Cray might draw him
into conversation and recognise his voice, my master
resolved to feign deafness as the only means of self-defence.
After a little while, Mr. Cray said
to my master, “It is a very fine morning, sir.”
The latter took no notice, but kept looking out of
the window. Mr. Cray soon repeated this remark,
in a little louder tone, but my master remained as
before. This indifference attracted the attention
of the passengers near, one of whom laughed out.
This, I suppose, annoyed the old gentleman; so he
said, “I will make him hear;” and in a
loud tone of voice repeated, “It is a very fine
morning, sir.”
My master turned his head, and with
a polite bow said, “Yes,” and commenced
looking out of the window again.
One of the gentlemen remarked that
it was a very great deprivation to be deaf.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Cray, “and I shall
not trouble that fellow any more.” This
enabled my master to breathe a little easier, and to
feel that Mr. Cray was not his pursuer after all.
The gentlemen then turned the conversation
upon the three great topics of discussion in first-class
circles in Georgia, namely, Niggers, Cotton, and the
Abolitionists.
My master had often heard of abolitionists,
but in such a connection as to cause him to think
that they were a fearful kind of wild animal.
But he was highly delighted to learn, from the gentlemen’s
conversation, that the abolitionists were persons who
were opposed to oppression; and therefore, in his
opinion, not the lowest, but the very highest, of
God’s creatures.
Without the slightest objection on
my master’s part, the gentlemen left the carriage
at Gordon, for Milledgeville (the capital of the State).
We arrived at Savannah early in the
evening, and got into an omnibus, which stopped at
the hotel for the passengers to take tea. I stepped
into the house and brought my master something on a
tray to the omnibus, which took us in due time to
the steamer, which was bound for Charleston, South
Carolina.
Soon after going on board, my master
turned in; and as the captain and some of the passengers
seemed to think this strange, and also questioned
me respecting him, my master thought I had better get
out the flannels and opodeldoc which we had prepared
for the rheumatism, warm them quickly by the stove
in the gentleman’s saloon, and bring them to
his berth. We did this as an excuse for my master’s
retiring to bed so early.
While at the stove one of the passengers
said to me, “Buck, what have you got there?”
“Opodeldoc, sir,” I replied. “I
should think it’s opo-devil,” said
a lanky swell, who was leaning back in a chair with
his heels upon the back of another, and chewing tobacco
as if for a wager; “it stinks enough to kill
or cure twenty men. Away with it, or I reckon
I will throw it overboard!”
It was by this time warm enough, so
I took it to my master’s berth, remained there
a little while, and then went on deck and asked the
steward where I was to sleep. He said there was
no place provided for coloured passengers, whether
slave or free. So I paced the deck till a late
hour, then mounted some cotton bags, in a warm place
near the funnel, sat there till morning, and then
went and assisted my master to get ready for breakfast.
He was seated at the right hand of
the captain, who, together with all the passengers,
inquired very kindly after his health. As my
master had one hand in a sling, it was my duty to
carve his food. But when I went out the captain
said, “You have a very attentive boy, sir; but
you had better watch him like a hawk when you get
on to the North. He seems all very well here,
but he may act quite differently there. I know
several gentlemen who have lost their valuable niggers
among them d d cut-throat abolitionists.”
Before my master could speak, a rough
slave-dealer, who was sitting opposite, with both
elbows on the table, and with a large piece of broiled
fowl in his fingers, shook his head with emphasis,
and in a deep Yankee tone, forced through his crowded
mouth the words, “Sound doctrine, captain, very
sound.” He then dropped the chicken into
the plate, leant back, placed his thumbs in the armholes
of his fancy waistcoat, and continued, “I would
not take a nigger to the North under no consideration.
I have had a deal to do with niggers in my time, but
I never saw one who ever had his heel upon free soil
that was worth a d n.”
“Now stranger,” addressing my master,
“if you have made up your mind to sell that
ere nigger, I am your man; just mention your price,
and if it isn’t out of the way, I will pay for
him on this board with hard silver dollars.”
This hard-featured, bristly-bearded, wire-headed,
red-eyed monster, staring at my master as the serpent
did at Eve, said, “What do you say, stranger?”
He replied, “I don’t wish to sell, sir;
I cannot get on well without him.”
“You will have to get on without
him if you take him to the North,” continued
this man; “for I can tell ye, stranger, as a
friend, I am an older cove than you, I have seen lots
of this ere world, and I reckon I have had more dealings
with niggers than any man living or dead. I was
once employed by General Wade Hampton, for ten years,
in doing nothing but breaking ’em in; and everybody
knows that the General would not have a man that didn’t
understand his business. So I tell ye, stranger,
again, you had better sell, and let me take him down
to Orleans. He will do you no good if you take
him across Mason’s and Dixon’s line; he
is a keen nigger, and I can see from the cut of his
eye that he is certain to run away.” My
master said, “I think not, sir; I have great
confidence in his fidelity.” “FiDEVIL,”
indignantly said the dealer, as his fist came down
upon the edge of the saucer and upset a cup of hot
coffee in a gentleman’s lap. (As the scalded
man jumped up the trader quietly said, “Don’t
disturb yourself, neighbour; accidents will happen
in the best of families.”) “It always
makes me mad to hear a man talking about fidelity
in niggers. There isn’t a d d
one on ’em who wouldn’t cut sticks, if
he had half a chance.”
By this time we were near Charleston;
my master thanked the captain for his advice, and
they all withdrew and went on deck, where the trader
fancied he became quite eloquent. He drew a crowd
around him, and with emphasis said, “Cap’en,
if I was the President of this mighty United States
of America, the greatest and freest country under the
whole universe, I would never let no man, I don’t
care who he is, take a nigger into the North and bring
him back here, filled to the brim, as he is sure to
be, with d d abolition vices, to
taint all quiet niggers with the hellish spirit of
running away. These air, cap’en, my flat-footed,
every day, right up and down sentiments, and as this
is a free country, cap’en, I don’t care
who hears ’em; for I am a Southern man, every
inch on me to the backbone.” “Good!”
said an insignificant-looking individual of the slave-dealer
stamp. “Three cheers for John C. Calhoun
and the whole fair sunny South!” added the trader.
So off went their hats, and out burst a terrific roar
of irregular but continued cheering. My master
took no more notice of the dealer. He merely
said to the captain that the air on deck was too keen
for him, and he would therefore return to the cabin.
While the trader was in the zenith
of his eloquence, he might as well have said, as one
of his kit did, at a great Filibustering meeting,
that “When the great American Eagle gets one
of his mighty claws upon Canada and the other into
South America, and his glorious and starry wings of
liberty extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific,
oh! then, where will England be, ye gentlemen?
I tell ye, she will only serve as a pocket-handkerchief
for Jonathan to wipe his nose with.”
On my master entering the cabin he
found at the breakfast-table a young southern military
officer, with whom he had travelled some distance the
previous day.
After passing the usual compliments
the conversation turned upon the old subject, niggers.
The officer, who was also travelling
with a man-servant, said to my master, “You
will excuse me, Sir, for saying I think you are very
likely to spoil your boy by saying ‘thank you’
to him. I assure you, sir, nothing spoils a
slave so soon as saying, ‘thank you’ and
’if you please’ to him. The only
way to make a nigger toe the mark, and to keep him
in his place, is to storm at him like thunder, and
keep him trembling like a leaf. Don’t
you see, when I speak to my Ned, he darts like lightning;
and if he didn’t I’d skin him.”
Just then the poor dejected slave
came in, and the officer swore at him fearfully, merely
to teach my master what he called the proper way to
treat me.
After he had gone out to get his master’s
luggage ready, the officer said, “That is the
way to speak to them. If every nigger was drilled
in this manner, they would be as humble as dogs, and
never dare to run away.”
The gentleman urged my master not
to go to the North for the restoration of his health,
but to visit the Warm Springs in Arkansas.
My master said, he thought the air
of Philadelphia would suit his complaint best; and,
not only so, he thought he could get better advice
there.
The boat had now reached the wharf.
The officer wished my master a safe and pleasant
journey, and left the saloon.
There were a large number of persons
on the quay waiting the arrival of the steamer:
but we were afraid to venture out for fear that some
one might recognize me; or that they had heard that
we were gone, and had telegraphed to have us stopped.
However, after remaining in the cabin till all the
other passengers were gone, we had our luggage placed
on a fly, and I took my master by the arm, and with
a little difficulty he hobbled on shore, got in and
drove off to the best hotel, which John C. Calhoun,
and all the other great southern fire-eating statesmen,
made their head-quarters while in Charleston.
On arriving at the house the landlord
ran out and opened the door: but judging, from
the poultices and green glasses, that my master was
an invalid, he took him very tenderly by one arm and
ordered his man to take the other.
My master then eased himself out,
and with their assistance found no trouble in getting
up the steps into the hotel. The proprietor made
me stand on one side, while he paid my master the
attention and homage he thought a gentleman of his
high position merited.
My master asked for a bed-room.
The servant was ordered to show a good one, into
which we helped him. The servant returned.
My master then handed me the bandages, I took them
downstairs in great haste, and told the landlord my
master wanted two hot poultices as quickly as possible.
He rang the bell, the servant came in, to whom he said,
“Run to the kitchen and tell the cook to make
two hot poultices right off, for there is a gentleman
upstairs very badly off indeed!”
In a few minutes the smoking poultices
were brought in. I placed them in white handkerchiefs,
and hurried upstairs, went into my master’s
apartment, shut the door, and laid them on the mantel-piece.
As he was alone for a little while, he thought he
could rest a great deal better with the poultices
off. However, it was necessary to have them to
complete the remainder of the journey. I then
ordered dinner, and took my master’s boots out
to polish them. While doing so I entered into
conversation with one of the slaves. I may state
here, that on the sea-coast of South Carolina and
Georgia the slaves speak worse English than in any
other part of the country. This is owing to the
frequent importation, or smuggling in, of Africans,
who mingle with the natives. Consequently the
language cannot properly be called English or African,
but a corruption of the two.
The shrewd son of African parents
to whom I referred said to me, “Say, brudder,
way you come from, and which side you goin day wid
dat ar little don up buckra” (white man)?
I replied, “To Philadelphia.”
“What!” he exclaimed, with astonishment,
“to Philumadelphy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“By squash! I wish I was
going wid you! I hears um say dat dare’s
no slaves way over in dem parts; is um so?”
I quietly said, “I have heard the same thing.”
“Well,” continued he,
as he threw down the boot and brush, and, placing
his hands in his pockets, strutted across the floor
with an air of independence “Gorra
Mighty, dem is de parts for Pompey; and I hope
when you get dare you will stay, and nebber follow
dat buckra back to dis hot quarter
no more, let him be eber so good.”
I thanked him; and just as I took
the boots up and started off, he caught my hand between
his two, and gave it a hearty shake, and, with tears
streaming down his cheeks, said:
“God bless you, broder,
and may de Lord be wid you. When you gets de
freedom, and sitin under your own wine and fig-tree,
don’t forget to pray for poor Pompey.”
I was afraid to say much to him, but
I shall never forget his earnest request, nor fail
to do what little I can to release the millions of
unhappy bondmen, of whom he was one.
At the proper time my master had the
poultices placed on, came down, and seated himself
at a table in a very brilliant dining-room, to have
his dinner. I had to have something at the same
time, in order to be ready for the boat; so they gave
me my dinner in an old broken plate, with a rusty
knife and fork, and said, “Here, boy, you go
in the kitchen.” I took it and went out,
but did not stay more than a few minutes, because
I was in a great hurry to get back to see how the
invalid was getting on. On arriving I found two
or three servants waiting on him; but as he did not
feel able to make a very hearty dinner, he soon finished,
paid the bill, and gave the servants each a trifle,
which caused one of them to say to me, “Your
massa is a big bug” meaning a gentleman
of distinction “he is the greatest
gentleman dat has been dis way for dis six
months.” I said, “Yes, he is some
pumpkins,” meaning the same as “big bug.”
When we left Macon, it was our intention
to take a steamer at Charleston through to Philadelphia;
but on arriving there we found that the vessels did
not run during the winter, and I have no doubt it was
well for us they did not; for on the very last voyage
the steamer made that we intended to go by, a fugitive
was discovered secreted on board, and sent back to
slavery. However, as we had also heard of the
Overland Mail Route, we were all right. So I
ordered a fly to the door, had the luggage placed
on; we got in, and drove down to the Custom-house
Office, which was near the wharf where we had to obtain
tickets, to take a steamer for Wilmington, North Carolina.
When we reached the building, I helped my master
into the office, which was crowded with passengers.
He asked for a ticket for himself and one for his
slave to Philadelphia. This caused the principal
officer a very mean-looking, cheese-coloured
fellow, who was sitting there to look up
at us very suspiciously, and in a fierce tone of voice
he said to me, “Boy, do you belong to that gentleman?”
I quickly replied, “Yes, sir” (which was
quite correct). The tickets were handed out,
and as my master was paying for them the chief man
said to him, “I wish you to register your name
here, sir, and also the name of your nigger, and pay
a dollar duty on him.”
My master paid the dollar, and pointing
to the hand that was in the poultice, requested the
officer to register his name for him. This seemed
to offend the “high-bred” South Carolinian.
He jumped up, shaking his head; and, cramming his
hands almost through the bottom of his trousers pockets,
with a slave-bullying air, said, “I shan’t
do it.”
This attracted the attention of all
the passengers. Just then the young military
officer with whom my master travelled and conversed
on the steamer from Savannah stepped in, somewhat
the worse for brandy; he shook hands with my master,
and pretended to know all about him. He said,
“I know his kin (friends) like a book;”
and as the officer was known in Charleston, and was
going to stop there with friends, the recognition
was very much in my master’s favor.
The captain of the steamer, a good-looking,
jovial fellow, seeing that the gentleman appeared
to know my master, and perhaps not wishing to lose
us as passengers, said in an off-hand sailor-like manner,
“I will register the gentleman’s name,
and take the responsibility upon myself.”
He asked my master’s name. He said, “William
Johnson.” The names were put down, I think,
“Mr. Johnson and slave.” The captain
said, “It’s all right now, Mr. Johnson.”
He thanked him kindly, and the young officer begged
my master to go with him, and have something to drink
and a cigar; but as he had not acquired these accomplishments,
he excused himself, and we went on board and came off
to Wilmington, North Carolina. When the gentleman
finds out his mistake, he will, I have no doubt, be
careful in future not to pretend to have an intimate
acquaintance with an entire stranger. During
the voyage the captain said, “It was rather
sharp shooting this morning, Mr. Johnson. It
was not out of any disrespect to you, sir; but they
make it a rule to be very strict at Charleston.
I have known families to be detained there with their
slaves till reliable information could be received
respecting them. If they were not very careful,
any d d abolitionist might take
off a lot of valuable niggers.”
My master said, “I suppose so,”
and thanked him again for helping him over the difficulty.
We reached Wilmington the next morning,
and took the train for Richmond, Virginia. I
have stated that the American railway carriages (or
cars, as they are called), are constructed differently
to those in England. At one end of some of them,
in the South, there is a little apartment with a couch
on both sides for the convenience of families and
invalids; and as they thought my master was very poorly,
he was allowed to enter one of these apartments at
Petersburg, Virginia, where an old gentleman and two
handsome young ladies, his daughters, also got in,
and took seats in the same carriage. But before
the train started, the gentleman stepped into my car,
and questioned me respecting my master. He wished
to know what was the matter with him, where he was
from, and where he was going. I told him where
he came from, and said that he was suffering from
a complication of complaints, and was going to Philadelphia,
where he thought he could get more suitable advice
than in Georgia.
The gentleman said my master could
obtain the very best advice in Philadelphia.
Which turned out to be quite correct, though he did
not receive it from physicians, but from kind abolitionists
who understood his case much better. The gentleman
also said, “I reckon your master’s father
hasn’t any more such faithful and smart boys
as you.” “O, yes, sir, he has,”
I replied, “lots on ’em.” Which
was literally true. This seemed all he wished
to know. He thanked me, gave me a ten-cent piece,
and requested me to be attentive to my good master.
I promised that I would do so, and have ever since
endeavoured to keep my pledge. During the gentleman’s
absence, the ladies and my master had a little cosy
chat. But on his return, he said, “You
seem to be very much afflicted, sir.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the gentleman in the
poultices. “What seems to be the matter
with you, sir; may I be allowed to ask?” “Inflammatory
rheumatism, sir.” “Oh! that is very
bad, sir,” said the kind gentleman: “I
can sympathise with you; for I know from bitter experience
what the rheumatism is.” If he did, he knew
a good deal more than Mr. Johnson.
The gentleman thought my master would
feel better if he would lie down and rest himself;
and as he was anxious to avoid conversation, he at
once acted upon this suggestion. The ladies politely
rose, took their extra shawls, and made a nice pillow
for the invalid’s head. My master wore
a fashionable cloth cloak, which they took and covered
him comfortably on the couch. After he had been
lying a little while the ladies, I suppose, thought
he was asleep; so one of them gave a long sigh, and
said, in a quiet fascinating tone, “Papa, he
seems to be a very nice young gentleman.”
But before papa could speak, the other lady quickly
said, “Oh! dear me, I never felt so much for
a gentleman in my life!” To use an American
expression, “they fell in love with the wrong
chap.”
After my master had been lying a little
while he got up, the gentleman assisted him in getting
on his cloak, the ladies took their shawls, and soon
they were all seated. They then insisted upon
Mr. Johnson taking some of their refreshments, which
of course he did, out of courtesy to the ladies.
All went on enjoying themselves until they reached
Richmond, where the ladies and their father left the
train. But, before doing so, the good old Virginian
gentleman, who appeared to be much pleased with my
master, presented him with a recipe, which he said
was a perfect cure for the inflammatory rheumatism.
But the invalid not being able to read it, and fearing
he should hold it upside down in pretending to do
so, thanked the donor kindly, and placed it in his
waistcoat pocket. My master’s new friend
also gave him his card, and requested him the next
time he travelled that way to do him the kindness
to call; adding, “I shall be pleased to see you,
and so will my daughters.” Mr. Johnson
expressed his gratitude for the proffered hospitality,
and said he should feel glad to call on his return.
I have not the slightest doubt that he will fulfil
the promise whenever that return takes place.
After changing trains we went on a little beyond
Fredericksburg, and took a steamer to Washington.
At Richmond, a stout elderly lady,
whose whole demeanour indicated that she belonged
(as Mrs. Stowe’s Aunt Chloe expresses it) to
one of the “firstest families,” stepped
into the carriage, and took a seat near my master.
Seeing me passing quickly along the platform, she
sprang up as if taken by a fit, and exclaimed, “Bless
my soul! there goes my nigger, Ned!”
My master said, “No; that is my boy.”
The lady paid no attention to this;
she poked her head out of the window, and bawled to
me, “You Ned, come to me, sir, you runaway rascal!”
On my looking round she drew her head
in, and said to my master, “I beg your pardon,
sir, I was sure it was my nigger; I never in my life
saw two black pigs more alike than your boy and my
Ned.”
After the disappointed lady had resumed
her seat, and the train had moved off, she closed
her eyes, slightly raising her hands, and in a sanctified
tone said to my master, “Oh! I hope, sir,
your boy will not turn out to be so worthless as my
Ned has. Oh! I was as kind to him as if
he had been my own son. Oh! sir, it grieves me
very much to think that after all I did for him he
should go off without having any cause whatever.”
“When did he leave you?” asked Mr. Johnson.
“About eighteen months ago,
and I have never seen hair or hide of him since.”
“Did he have a wife?”
enquired a very respectable-looking young gentleman,
who was sitting near my master and opposite to the
lady.
“No, sir; not when he left,
though he did have one a little before that.
She was very unlike him; she was as good and as faithful
a nigger as any one need wish to have. But,
poor thing! she became so ill, that she was unable
to do much work; so I thought it would be best to
sell her, to go to New Orleans, where the climate is
nice and warm.”
“I suppose she was very glad
to go South for the restoration of her health?”
said the gentleman.
“No; she was not,” replied
the lady, “for niggers never know what is best
for them. She took on a great deal about leaving
Ned and the little nigger; but, as she was so weakly,
I let her go.”
“Was she good-looking?”
asked the young passenger, who was evidently not of
the same opinion as the talkative lady, and therefore
wished her to tell all she knew.
“Yes; she was very handsome,
and much whiter than I am; and therefore will have
no trouble in getting another husband. I am sure
I wish her well. I asked the speculator who
bought her to sell her to a good master. Poor
thing! she has my prayers, and I know she prays for
me. She was a good Christian, and always used
to pray for my soul. It was through her earliest
prayers,” continued the lady, “that I was
first led to seek forgiveness of my sins, before I
was converted at the great camp-meeting.”
This caused the lady to snuffle and
to draw from her pocket a richly embroidered handkerchief,
and apply it to the corner of her eyes. But
my master could not see that it was at all soiled.
The silence which prevailed for a
few moments was broken by the gentleman’s saying,
“As your ‘July’ was such a very good
girl, and had served you so faithfully before she
lost her health, don’t you think it would have
been better to have emancipated her?”
“No, indeed I do not!”
scornfully exclaimed the lady, as she impatiently
crammed the fine handkerchief into a little work-bag.
“I have no patience with people who set niggers
at liberty. It is the very worst thing you can
do for them. My dear husband just before he
died willed all his niggers free. But I and all
our friends knew very well that he was too good a
man to have ever thought of doing such an unkind and
foolish thing, had he been in his right mind, and,
therefore we had the will altered as it should have
been in the first place.”
“Did you mean, madam,”
asked my master, “that willing the slaves free
was unjust to yourself, or unkind to them?”
“I mean that it was decidedly
unkind to the servants themselves. It always
seems to me such a cruel thing to turn niggers loose
to shift for themselves, when there are so many good
masters to take care of them. As for myself,”
continued the considerate lady, “I thank the
Lord my dear husband left me and my son well provided
for. Therefore I care nothing for the niggers,
on my own account, for they are a great deal more
trouble than they are worth, I sometimes wish that
there was not one of them in the world; for the ungrateful
wretches are always running away. I have lost
no less than ten since my poor husband died.
It’s ruinous, sir!”
“But as you are well provided
for, I suppose you do not feel the loss very much,”
said the passenger.
“I don’t feel it at all,”
haughtily continued the good soul; “but that
is no reason why property should be squandered.
If my son and myself had the money for those valuable
niggers, just see what a great deal of good we could
do for the poor, and in sending missionaries abroad
to the poor heathen, who have never heard the name
of our blessed Redeemer. My dear son who is
a good Christian minister has advised me not to worry
and send my soul to hell for the sake of niggers; but
to sell every blessed one of them for what they will
fetch, and go and live in peace with him in New York.
This I have concluded to do. I have just been
to Richmond and made arrangements with my agent to
make clean work of the forty that are left.”
“Your son being a good Christian
minister,” said the gentleman, “It’s
strange he did not advise you to let the poor negroes
have their liberty and go North.”
“It’s not at all strange,
sir; it’s not at all strange. My son knows
what’s best for the niggers; he has always told
me that they were much better off than the free niggers
in the North. In fact, I don’t believe
there are any white labouring people in the world who
are as well off as the slaves.”
“You are quite mistaken, madam,”
said the young man. “For instance, my
own widowed mother, before she died, emancipated all
her slaves, and sent them to Ohio, where they are
getting along well. I saw several of them last
summer myself.”
“Well,” replied the lady,
“freedom may do for your ma’s niggers,
but it will never do for mine; and, plague them, they
shall never have it; that is the word, with the bark
on it.”
“If freedom will not do for
your slaves,” replied the passenger, “I
have no doubt your Ned and the other nine negroes will
find out their mistake, and return to their old home.
“Blast them!” exclaimed
the old lady, with great emphasis, “if I ever
get them, I will cook their infernal hash, and tan
their accursed black hides well for them! God
forgive me,” added the old soul, “the niggers
will make me lose all my religion!”
By this time the lady had reached
her destination. The gentleman got out at the
next station beyond. As soon as she was gone,
the young Southerner said to my master, “What
a d d shame it is for that old
whining hypocritical humbug to cheat the poor negroes
out of their liberty! If she has religion, may
the devil prevent me from ever being converted!”
For the purpose of somewhat disguising
myself, I bought and wore a very good second-hand
white beaver, an article which I had never indulged
in before. So just before we arrived at Washington,
an uncouth planter, who had been watching me very
closely, said to my master, “I reckon, stranger,
you are ‘spiling’ that ere nigger
of yourn, by letting him wear such a devilish fine
hat. Just look at the quality on it; the President
couldn’t wear a better. I should just like
to go and kick it overboard.” His friend
touched him, and said, “Don’t speak so
to a gentleman.” “Why not?”
exclaimed the fellow. He grated his short teeth,
which appeared to be nearly worn away by the incessant
chewing of tobacco, and said, “It always makes
me itch all over, from head to toe, to get hold of
every d d nigger I see dressed like
a white man. Washington is run away with spiled
and free niggers. If I had my way I would sell
every d d rascal of ’em way
down South, where the devil would be whipped out on
’em.”
This man’s fierce manner made
my master feel rather nervous, and therefore he thought
the less he said the better; so he walked off without
making any reply. In a few minutes we were landed
at Washington, where we took a conveyance and hurried
off to the train for Baltimore.
We left our cottage on Wednesday morning,
the 21st of December, 1848, and arrived at Baltimore,
Saturday evening, the 24th (Christmas Eve). Baltimore
was the last slave port of any note at which we stopped.
On arriving there we felt more anxious
than ever, because we knew not what that last dark
night would bring forth. It is true we were near
the goal, but our poor hearts were still as if tossed
at sea; and, as there was another great and dangerous
bar to pass, we were afraid our liberties would be
wrecked, and, like the ill-fated Royal Charter, go
down for ever just off the place we longed to reach.
They are particularly watchful at
Baltimore to prevent slaves from escaping into Pennsylvania,
which is a free State. After I had seen my master
into one of the best carriages, and was just about
to step into mine, an officer, a full-blooded Yankee
of the lower order, saw me. He came quickly
up, and, tapping me on the shoulder, said in his unmistakable
native twang, together with no little display of his
authority, “Where are you going, boy?”
“To Philadelphia, sir,” I humbly replied.
“Well, what are you going there for?”
“I am travelling with my master, who is in
the next carriage, sir.” “Well, I
calculate you had better get him out; and be mighty
quick about it, because the train will soon be starting.
It is against my rules to let any man take a slave
past here, unless he can satisfy them in the office
that he has a right to take him along.”
The officer then passed on and left
me standing upon the platform, with my anxious heart
apparently palpitating in the throat. At first
I scarcely knew which way to turn. But it soon
occurred to me that the good God, who had been with
us thus far, would not forsake us at the eleventh
hour. So with renewed hope I stepped into my
master’s carriage, to inform him of the difficulty.
I found him sitting at the farther end, quite alone.
As soon as he looked up and saw me, he smiled.
I also tried to wear a cheerful countenance, in order
to break the shock of the sad news. I knew what
made him smile. He was aware that if we were
fortunate we should reach our destination at five
o’clock the next morning, and this made it the
more painful to communicate what the officer had said;
but, as there was no time to lose, I went up to him
and asked him how he felt. He said “Much
better,” and that he thanked God we were getting
on so nicely. I then said we were not getting
on quite so well as we had anticipated. He anxiously
and quickly asked what was the matter. I told
him. He started as if struck by lightning, and
exclaimed, “Good Heavens! William, is it
possible that we are, after all, doomed to hopeless
bondage?” I could say nothing, my heart was
too full to speak, for at first I did not know what
to do. However we knew it would never do to
turn back to the “City of Destruction,”
like Bunyan’s Mistrust and Timorous, because
they saw lions in the narrow way after ascending the
hill Difficulty; but press on, like noble Christian
and Hopeful, to the great city in which dwelt a few
“shining ones.” So, after a few
moments, I did all I could to encourage my companion,
and we stepped out and made for the office; but how
or where my master obtained sufficient courage to
face the tyrants who had power to blast all we held
dear, heaven only knows! Queen Elizabeth could
not have been more terror-stricken, on being forced
to land at the traitors’ gate leading to the
Tower, than we were on entering that office.
We felt that our very existence was at stake, and
that we must either sink or swim. But, as God
was our present and mighty helper in this as well as
in all former trials, we were able to keep our heads
up and press forwards.
On entering the room we found the
principal man, to whom my master said, “Do you
wish to see me, sir?” “Yes,” said
this eagle-eyed officer; and he added, “It is
against our rules, sir, to allow any person to take
a slave out of Baltimore into Philadelphia, unless
he can satisfy us that he has a right to take him
along.” “Why is that?” asked
my master, with more firmness than could be expected.
“Because, sir,” continued he, in a voice
and manner that almost chilled our blood, “if
we should suffer any gentleman to take a slave past
here into Philadelphia; and should the gentleman with
whom the slave might be travelling turn out not to
be his rightful owner; and should the proper master
come and prove that his slave escaped on our road,
we shall have him to pay for; and, therefore, we cannot
let any slave pass here without receiving security
to show, and to satisfy us, that it is all right.”
This conversation attracted the attention
of the large number of bustling passengers.
After the officer had finished, a few of them said,
“Chit, chit, chit;” not because they thought
we were slaves endeavouring to escape, but merely
because they thought my master was a slaveholder and
invalid gentleman, and therefore it was wrong to detain
him. The officer, observing that the passengers
sympathised with my master, asked him if he was not
acquainted with some gentleman in Baltimore that he
could get to endorse for him, to show that I was his
property, and that he had a right to take me off.
He said, “No;” and added, “I bought
tickets in Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia,
and therefore you have no right to detain us here.”
“Well, sir,” said the man, indignantly,
“right or no right, we shan’t let you
go.” These sharp words fell upon our anxious
hearts like the crack of doom, and made us feel that
hope only smiles to deceive.
For a few moments perfect silence
prevailed. My master looked at me, and I at
him, but neither of us dared to speak a word, for fear
of making some blunder that would tend to our detection.
We knew that the officers had power to throw us into
prison, and if they had done so we must have been
detected and driven back, like the vilest felons, to
a life of slavery, which we dreaded far more than
sudden death.
We felt as though we had come into
deep waters and were about being overwhelmed, and
that the slightest mistake would clip asunder the last
brittle thread of hope by which we were suspended,
and let us down for ever into the dark and horrible
pit of misery and degradation from which we were straining
every nerve to escape. While our hearts were
crying lustily unto Him who is ever ready and able
to save, the conductor of the train that we had just
left stepped in. The officer asked if we came
by the train with him from Washington; he said we did,
and left the room. Just then the bell rang for
the train to leave; and had it been the sudden shock
of an earthquake it could not have given us a greater
thrill. The sound of the bell caused every eye
to flash with apparent interest, and to be more steadily
fixed upon us than before. But, as God would
have it, the officer all at once thrust his fingers
through his hair, and in a state of great agitation
said, “I really don’t know what to do;
I calculate it is all right.” He then
told the clerk to run and tell the conductor to “let
this gentleman and slave pass;” adding, “As
he is not well, it is a pity to stop him here.
We will let him go.” My master thanked him,
and stepped out and hobbled across the platform as
quickly as possible. I tumbled him unceremoniously
into one of the best carriages, and leaped into mine
just as the train was gliding off towards our happy
destination.
We thought of this plan about four
days before we left Macon; and as we had our daily
employment to attend to, we only saw each other at
night. So we sat up the four long nights talking
over the plan and making preparations.
We had also been four days on the
journey; and as we travelled night and day, we got
but very limited opportunities for sleeping.
I believe nothing in the world could have kept us
awake so long but the intense excitement, produced
by the fear of being retaken on the one hand, and
the bright anticipation of liberty on the other.
We left Baltimore about eight o’clock
in the evening; and not being aware of a stopping-place
of any consequence between there and Philadelphia,
and also knowing that if we were fortunate we should
be in the latter place early the next morning, I thought
I might indulge in a few minutes’ sleep in the
car; but I, like Bunyan’s Christian in the arbour,
went to sleep at the wrong time, and took too long
a nap. So, when the train reached Havre de Grace,
all the first-class passengers had to get out of the
carriages and into a ferry-boat, to be ferried across
the Susquehanna river, and take the train on the opposite
side.
The road was constructed so as to
be raised or lowered to suit the tide. So they
rolled the luggage-vans on to the boat, and off on
the other side; and as I was in one of the apartments
adjoining a baggage-car, they considered it unnecessary
to awaken me, and tumbled me over with the luggage.
But when my master was asked to leave his seat, he
found it very dark, and cold, and raining. He
missed me for the first time on the journey.
On all previous occasions, as soon as the train stopped,
I was at hand to assist him. This caused many
slaveholders to praise me very much: they said
they had never before seen a slave so attentive to
his master: and therefore my absence filled him
with terror and confusion; the children of Israel could
not have felt more troubled on arriving at the Red
Sea. So he asked the conductor if he had seen
anything of his slave. The man being somewhat
of an abolitionist, and believing that my master was
really a slaveholder, thought he would tease him a
little respecting me. So he said, “No,
sir; I haven’t seen anything of him for some
time: I have no doubt he has run away, and is
in Philadelphia, free, long before now.”
My master knew that there was nothing in this; so he
asked the conductor if he would please to see if he
could find me. The man indignantly replied,
“I am no slave-hunter; and as far as I am concerned
everybody must look after their own niggers.”
He went off and left the confused invalid to fancy
whatever he felt inclined. My master at first
thought I must have been kidnapped into slavery by
some one, or left, or perhaps killed on the train.
He also thought of stopping to see if he could hear
anything of me, but he soon remembered that he had
no money. That night all the money we had was
consigned to my own pocket, because we thought, in
case there were any pickpockets about, a slave’s
pocket would be the last one they would look for.
However, hoping to meet me some day in a land of liberty,
and as he had the tickets, he thought it best upon
the whole to enter the boat and come off to Philadelphia,
and endeavour to make his way alone in this cold and
hollow world as best he could. The time was now
up, so he went on board and came across with feelings
that can be better imagined than described.
After the train had got fairly on
the way to Philadelphia, the guard came into my car
and gave me a violent shake, and bawled out at the
same time, “Boy, wake up!” I started,
almost frightened out of my wits. He said, “Your
master is scared half to death about you.”
That frightened me still more I thought
they had found him out; so I anxiously inquired what
was the matter. The guard said, “He thinks
you have run away from him.” This made
me feel quite at ease. I said, “No, sir;
I am satisfied my good master doesn’t think that.”
So off I started to see him. He had been fearfully
nervous, but on seeing me he at once felt much better.
He merely wished to know what had become of me.
On returning to my seat, I found the
conductor and two or three other persons amusing themselves
very much respecting my running away. So the
guard said, “Boy, what did your master want?"
I replied, “He merely wished to know what had
become of me.” “No,” said the
man, “that was not it; he thought you had taken
French leave, for parts unknown. I never saw
a fellow so badly scared about losing his slave in
my life. Now,” continued the guard, “let
me give you a little friendly advice. When you
get to Philadelphia, run away and leave that cripple,
and have your liberty.” “No, sir,”
I indifferently replied, “I can’t promise
to do that.” “Why not?” said
the conductor, evidently much surprised; “don’t
you want your liberty?” “Yes, sir,”
I replied; “but I shall never run away from
such a good master as I have at present.”
I may state here that every man
slave is called boy till he is very old, then the
more respectable slaveholders call him uncle.
The women are all girls till they are aged, then
they are called aunts. This is the reason why
Mrs. Stowe calls her characters Uncle Tom, Aunt Chloe,
Uncle Tiff, &c.
One of the men said to the guard,
“Let him alone; I guess he will open his eyes
when he gets to Philadelphia, and see things in another
light.” After giving me a good deal of information,
which I afterwards found to be very useful, they left
me alone.
I also met with a coloured gentleman
on this train, who recommended me to a boarding-house
that was kept by an abolitionist, where he thought
I would be quite safe, if I wished to run away from
my master. I thanked him kindly, but of course
did not let him know who we were. Late at night,
or rather early in the morning, I heard a fearful
whistling of the steam-engine; so I opened the window
and looked out, and saw a large number of flickering
lights in the distance, and heard a passenger in the
next carriage who also had his head out
of the window say to his companion, “Wake
up, old horse, we are at Philadelphia!”
The sight of those lights and that
announcement made me feel almost as happy as Bunyan’s
Christian must have felt when he first caught sight
of the cross. I, like him, felt that the straps
that bound the heavy burden to my back began to pop,
and the load to roll off. I also looked, and
looked again, for it appeared very wonderful to me
how the mere sight of our first city of refuge should
have all at once made my hitherto sad and heavy heart
become so light and happy. As the train speeded
on, I rejoiced and thanked God with all my heart and
soul for his great kindness and tender mercy, in watching
over us, and bringing us safely through.
As soon as the train had reached the
platform, before it had fairly stopped, I hurried
out of my carriage to my master, whom I got at once
into a cab, placed the luggage on, jumped in myself,
and we drove off to the boarding-house which was so
kindly recommended to me. On leaving the station,
my master or rather my wife, as I may now
say who had from the commencement of the
journey borne up in a manner that much surprised us
both, grasped me by the hand, and said, “Thank
God, William, we are safe!” and then burst into
tears, leant upon me, and wept like a child.
The reaction was fearful. So when we reached
the house, she was in reality so weak and faint that
she could scarcely stand alone. However, I got
her into the apartments that were pointed out, and
there we knelt down, on this Sabbath, and Christmas-day, a
day that will ever be memorable to us, and
poured out our heartfelt gratitude to God, for his
goodness in enabling us to overcome so many perilous
difficulties, in escaping out of the jaws of the wicked.