FREEDMEN'S AID COMMISSION.
Our Freedmen's Aid Commission was enlarged in June, 1864. Dr. George
Duffield was made president; Drs. Hogarth and Chase, vice-presidents;
David Preston, treasurer; and B. C. Durfee, secretary. The board of
directors appointed me its agent, and allowed me a salary of forty
dollars a month. This is the first remuneration I received for my
labors; but seeing unfaithful officers dismissed, prisoners released,
and the suffering and dying relieved, was a satisfaction far exceeding
dollars and cents.
I received invitations to address congregations in large towns, where
much was done in gathering supplies. At a Union thanksgiving meeting in
Jackson, $97 was collected, and at a similar meeting at Grass Lake, the
same day, $70; at Luce's Hall, Grand Rapids, $55; at Methodist
Episcopal Church, Pontiac, $44; and at Leoni Wesleyan Methodist
Conference, $68.65. Many other liberal donations were also received.
Auxiliaries were organized, and I prepared to return to the field of
desolation, whither duty seemed to be loudly calling me. I concluded to
suspend Raisin Institute until the close of the war. I received
propositions from a number of graduates of the Michigan University to
take it in charge; but the care of preparing for another academic year
was more than I could properly undertake, and do justice to the
limitless field of mission work that was open before us.
In September I had a car-load of supplies ready, and $400 in money. Of
this amount, $298 was placed in my hands by friends at Adrian, with the
request of the donors that it should be retained in my own hands for
disbursement on reaching the scene of suffering. At Chicago appeals
were made to the Soldiers' Aid Society and Christian Commission for aid
in the freedmen's department, and also to myself personally, on account
of the great distress in Kansas after General Price's raid through
Missouri, followed by Colonels Lane and Jennison, who drove thousands
of poor whites and freedmen into that young State. I decided to hasten
thither, with Mrs. Lee, of Hillsdale, as an assistant.
At Leavenworth we met J. R. Brown, half-brother of Captain John Brown,
of Ossawatomie, who had charge of both white refugees and freedmen and
a sort of soldiers' home, under General Curtis. He kindly offered me
headquarters in his establishment, consisting of two large two-story
frame buildings, with one hundred occupants each. I called on General
Curtis, who telegraphed for my goods to be forwarded in preference to
other army supplies, and gave me passes through the State to Fort
Scott. My object was to investigate all intermediate towns where
refugees and freedmen were congregated. He also gave me liberty to use
an order he had given J. R. Brown, to call upon quarter-masters for
half, whole, or quarter rations, wherever suffering for food existed.
These investigations enabled me to judge of the amount of aid needed at
each point.
As my supplies had not reached me, J. R. Brown filled two large trunks
with sanitary supplies for the greatest sufferers. Thus supplied, I
took the stage for Fort Scott. My first halt was at Quindaro, a small
town built on rocky bluffs and in deep ravines. A few years previously
it was designed by a few speculators to be an important landing on the
Mississippi; and they built a few stone houses, a long wood
store-house, and a number of small log-houses, which had been left
untenanted, but were now filled with white refugees and freedmen, A
large majority were women and children. The able-bodied men among the
freedmen were in the Union army, but many of the men whose refugee
families were here were in the Confederate army. General Price had made
terrible havoc of all who were suspected of being favorable to the
Union. Then followed Colonels Lane and Jennison, who made as great
havoc of the remainder. Those who fled for their lives were crowded
into every niche of available room.
In one open log-house I found twenty-three wretched inmates. Four of
them were women, two of whom were sick from exposure in husking corn
during cold, snowy weather. Eight of the children had the measles, and
three of them died; two others seemed near death's door. Two women were
hauling a small tree-top to their door to chop for night-wood. The feet
of these poor women were exposed to the mud and snow, which was
melting. O, what squalid wretchedness was here! Not a bed, chair,
table, or whole dish in this gloomy abode! I inquired how they slept. I
was shown a rag-carpet on the fence, which they obtained for washing
for one of the neighbors. This was spread before a large fire-place,
and all lay down upon that but two, who kept up the fire, and watched
to keep those asleep from burning. They said the man who owned the
adjoining wood-land kindly allowed them all the wood they needed that
was on the ground. They borrowed an ax to chop it. I found the four
women had husked corn on shares until two were sick with pneumonia; and
the corn, boiled without salt, was all they had to eat during the five
weeks they had been there. Now they were nearly out, and what to do
they knew not, as they were forbidden to go into the field to husk
more. I made out an order for rations, and measured their bare feet for
shoes and stockings. I took one of the women to the post-office, where
I had left my trunks, and gave her four army-blankets, six knit woolen
socks, six pairs of drawers, four pairs of stockings, and two pairs of
shoes, which were all I had to fit them. As I piled the above articles
upon the shoulders and arms of the poor woman she wept for joy.
The postmaster said, "Is this your business here?"
On receiving an affirmative reply, he said, with tearful eye:
"To-morrow morning the ground will be frozen, and I will go with you
where the most of these poor people are."
I procured lodging with a widow Johnson and her son, who was with
Captain John Brown's party all through the border-ruffian troubles. My
kind friend regretted my having made the mile and a half walk to the
log-house in the field and back to the post-office before supper, as I
had not taken refreshments since leaving Leavenworth, very early. But
when I told her of the distress I found, she rejoiced with me at the
partial relief I had given them.
After a good rest and an early breakfast, I went with the kind
postmaster to visit the most wretched tenements of both white and
colored, and found eighty-one to report for rations to the commander in
Wyandotte. The postmaster and Mr. Johnson agreed to go with their team
every week and distribute to the destitute; and if others were found
equally needy they would report them to me on my return. After
descending steep cliffs and climbing rugged rocks until past noon, we
returned for dinner; but before it was finished the stage came along,
and I took it for Wyandotte, where we arrived late in the evening. The
weather for October was cold, and freezing quite hard.
When I informed Mrs. Halford, the landlady of the Garno House, of my
errand, she was much pleased, and said that her duties forbade her to
assist me, but she would do her part in giving me a welcome home while
in their town. She introduced me to a family of benevolent ladies, who
promised to aid me in my investigations, but did not think I would find
the suffering in their city that I found in Quindaro. One of my new
friends went with me to a neighborhood where there were new arrivals,
and found many in a perishing condition with cold and hunger. From
thence we went to old stables and sheds crowded with destitute human
beings, both white and colored. The dear friend who volunteered to
guide to these children of want wept herself sick as we listened to the
stories of their flight from homes in Missouri and Arkansas. Here was a
woman, named Melinda Dale, with six small children and a sick husband,
who had to flee for their lives. A few pieces of old tent-cloth, picked
up about an old camp, made their bed. Children were crying for bread,
the mother was sick with grief, and the father had a high fever. A
blanket was given them, with a few loaves of bread; and after the
reading of Scripture and prayer we left for the relief of others.
Our next call was upon the wife and five small children of Lieutenant
Miller, who was supposed to be in a rebel prison. The wife was in great
distress, not knowing whether her husband was living or perishing by
starvation. He was taken prisoner one year before and she and her
children were in a starving condition. They occupied an old Sibley
tent. These were also, with many others, reported for rations, and
immediate relief was given. A few weeks previously rations were
withheld, which caused great suffering with many. I gave rations to
Barbara Stewart, with two sick children, whose husband was murdered by
guerillas because he was known to be a Union man. I next called on
Green F. Bethel, who left his Arkansas home with a large family,
consisting of his wife, nine children, and aged mother. All except
himself were taken down with the measles, soon after passing through
Fort Scott. His mother soon died, and was buried by the way-side. A day
later his wife and infant child died, and were also buried by the way.
Not long after the last three children died, and were also buried by
the road-side. He said, "O, what sorrow was mine! One-half of my family
are gone! The light of my household seemed vanishing! Were it not for
the help of my Lord I should have fainted under this sweeping
affliction. My wife and mother were Christians many years. We were
members of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church." We found the poor man
in a hard chill. It came on every third day, and was followed with high
fever. The two intervening days he was able to use his team in little
jobs of hauling, and thus he kept his children and team alive. I
inquired why he did not make his condition known to the citizens of
that town. He said no one knew any thing about him, and there were so
many making pretensions to loyalty who were not loyal, that none would
know but he was of that class. "My wife's brother," he said, "came with
his family when we did, and he also lost his wife on the way, following
the Union soldiers. Our lives were threatened, and the rope was placed
around my neck once, but by the entreaties of my wife and children the
rebels concluded to let me go a day or two longer; then if I would not
join with them in supporting the Confederate government, I was to be
hung or shot. The same threat was made to my brother-in-law, and we hid
in the woods three weeks, before we left in the night for the lines of
the Union soldiers. We started with two wagons, and had nine horses and
three cows. But they gave out one after another, and we had to leave
them all on the way, except the youngest and best team, which I have
yet. I have a good farm, and so has my brother-in-law; but if we are
ever permitted to return to our homes, it is doubtful whether we shall
find a building left."
He wept freely, as well as his children. The oldest daughter, Amy, of
seventeen, leaned her head upon my shoulder, and wept aloud. She said,
"We could all bear this furnace of affliction much better if our dear
mother had been spared us."
With prayer we left this house of mourning, with a request for the
afflicted brother to call at head-quarters for the rations I should
report for the six in his family. Said he, on taking the parting hand,
"One favor I ask of you, my dear sister; and that is, your continued
prayers that the Lord may open a way for us where there now seems to be
no way."
My friend who served as guide said, "My head aches with weeping, in
witnessing these heart-rending scenes. I must decline going with you
farther this afternoon. I shall be obliged to take my bed. I do not see
how you live, as you meet similar scenes so frequently."
These visits made us quite late for dinner, but my kind hostess kept it
waiting for me. With interest, she sat by my side to listen to a report
of my morning calls. She was surprised to learn of so much suffering
near them. After dinner I resumed my work. On my way I met a woman
shivering in an ague chill, thinly clad, and weeping. I inquired for
the cause of her grief. She said she had been hunting for washing or
something to do, to purchase bread for her three little children, for
they had had nothing to eat for a whole day. I told her I would call on
her before night. I found a number in as great distress as in my
morning calls. One man, who lost his wife, leaving him with six small
children, had found work six miles away; but he returned at night to
care for his little ones. The oldest child, ten years of age, was left
during the day in charge of the five younger ones. For the sake of
furnishing bread for his children, he walked the twelve miles back and
forth daily. I found the woman whom I had met on the street in a high
fever, with an infant of eight months in her arms, and two of her
children crying for bread. I took them a few loaves, and gave her an
order for rations. The husband had been pressed into service when they
had been but two weeks from home, and was not allowed to see his wife
and children to say good bye. She had heard nothing from him since. In
the corner lay a crippled discharged colored soldier, who was also
suffering for food. I stepped into a grocery and purchased sugar and
crackers for the sick and for the children.
My next call was on another woman with six children.
Her husband had been in the army a long time, and she had not heard
from him. She feared he was suffering in a rebel prison. Near this
cabin was Agnes Everett, with five children between the ages of fifteen
months and twelve years. Her two youngest children were in a starving
condition--the baby, she said, had been too sick to allow her to do
much in procuring food. Her boy of twelve years was her only dependence
in getting little jobs of wood-sawing or doing chores for cold
victuals, or a pint of meal which she made into porridge. The little
emaciated baby was fed with the porridge. Its face was wrinkled like an
old person's of ninety years. Its eyes were sunken and glassy; its
hands looked more like birds' claws than like human hands. "Don't,
Clarkie; poor little Fannie is so sick she must have this," said the
mother to the little fellow who watched the mother when her attention
was occupied for a chance to snatch a floating lump. As I looked upon
these famishing children I could not refrain from weeping. Her husband
and grown son were in the army. She had been looking for money from
them for a number of months, but had heard nothing from them. I gave
them two loaves of bread for their supper, and directed them to meet me
at the post-office the next day at ten o'clock A. M., and I would give
her an order for six half rations until she received help from her
husband. This closed my day's work. On my return to the Garno House,
Mrs. Halford informed me that the lady who went with me in the morning
was sick, for she had hardly ceased weeping over those pitiful families
we visited in the morning.
At the time appointed I met a number at the post-office, among whom was
Agnes Everett, to receive orders for half, quarter, or whole rations,
and gave out a few articles of clothing. As I gave Agnes the order for
rations, I charged her strictly to give the two younger children no
strong food for a few days, but only a little at a time and often,
especially the youngest, as it would live but a few hours if she
allowed it to eat all it craved. A number of gentlemen listened to my
charge, and as the little group left the office one of them inquired
where I was from. With my reply I gave them my papers from the governor
and members of Congress of Michigan. After reading they introduced
themselves,--Dr. Wood, Dr. Speck, Lawyer James, and others. Dr. Speck
informed me of a family whose youngest child actually starved to death
three days before. He was called when it was dying, but too late to
save it. He said, "There were two other families who would have died
soon if the citizens had not rendered the aid needed; and there would
have been another death by starvation before we should have known it,
here in our midst, but it took you to come from Michigan to find it
out." Lawyer James said there was a family on the hill opposite the
ferry he would like to see visited, but there were so many crowding in
here of late that it seemed as if they had done all they possibly
could. They were rejoiced to learn of the liberty granted, by General
Curtis to issue orders for rations. Said Dr. Wood, "The freedmen are
seeking for work, no matter what kind, but the white refugees are the
most do-nothing set I ever saw." While I acknowledged his position true
in most cases, yet there were noble exceptions and I mentioned the
Bethel family and stated their condition. One gentleman said he would
look after that family. In confirmation of his remarks I told of a
family of poor whites in Quindaro who were asked to assist a neighbor
in sickness. As there were the mother and two grown daughters, it was
supposed one of them could be secured a few days with the promise of
provisions or money; but the mother contemptuously tossed her head to
one side and drawled out the reply, "I reckon we hain't come down so
low yet as to work" I told them they must come up high enough to work
before I could do any thing for them, and left them to sit in their own
filth and rags.
My order from General Curtis was to report none for rations who could
obtain work for wages. I passed on to other scenes of sorrow too
numerous to narrate here.
One hundred and four rations I ordered in Wyandotte. This timely relief
given, I crossed the river, and in Kansas City, Missouri, met brother
Copeland and wife, who were efficient agents and teachers in that
field. I secured a pass to Lawrence, where, late in the evening, I was
directed to a family that had suffered much in the Union cause. This
was the important stamping ground of Captain John Brown. This city had
passed through two terrible raids during the war. It is here that
Quantrell rushed upon the unsuspecting citizens with a host of
Confederate soldiers about daylight, and murdered men at their own
doors, and when they could not call them out they rushed into their
houses and made terrible havoc of human life. There was a woman here
who was a spy. She had been in the city a few weeks taking horse-back
rides two hours each morning, ostensibly for her health, but probably
to report the most favorable time for attack. She was never seen after
the raid. I attended the Methodist Episcopal Church, where seventy
wounded, dying, and dead soldiers and citizens were brought in after
that raid. The stains of blood were still left on the floor and some of
the seats.
The house where I was kindly invited to make my home was entered, and
the owner, brother Hockins, was demanded. His wife told them she saw
him run up the hill a few moments before, which was true; but on seeing
the Confederate soldiers entering the town he hastened back to his
house and ran down to the cellar. A squad of them entered and placed
the bayonet at his wife, and threatened her life if she did not tell
the whereabouts of her husband; but she persisted in pointing up the
hill. They went down the cellar, but returned without finding him, and
set the house on fire. Then they ran up the hill after him. She
succeeded in putting out the fire, and went into the cellar and called
her husband. He answered from between the earth and the floor. This was
his hiding-place until the Union soldiers rescued the city from further
trouble. A strong Union force was now kept at this point.
I found fewer suffering for want of rations at this town than in other
places I had visited, and took the stage for Fort Scott. We were
advised to keep out of sight any appearance of watches or any sort of
jewelry, as guerrillas were sometimes lurking in the woods and attacked
the stages. We came in sight of Indians on horses who darted into the
woods, fearing we were guerrillas, who had stolen or robbed them of
their ponies. One man shouted, "We are all for the Union." This was on
Price's track, where they lost their horses, and did not dare come in
sight.
Late at night we reached Fort Scott. My first call was on Colonel
Blair, commander of the post, who, with his wife, kindly offered me a
home with them while I remained at that point. They introduced me to
Dr. Slocum, who gave a sketch of the terrible destitution of the forty
thousand refugees and freedmen, who passed through this great
thoroughfare. Many of them had stopped here. He took me to a number of
the destitute families, and gave directions to others, and left me to
my work. Here was a great number of the poor whites, called
"Clay-eaters," who complained about government dealing rations to
colored people. I heard one of them, say that "if niggers would stay
where they belonged, with their masters, they would have more
white-bread and beef." I told them, I had learned that many of their
husbands were fighting against the government while the husbands of
many of the colored women were fighting to sustain it, and I should
favor those who were on the side of the government. I asked them why
they did not themselves remain in their old homes? "We came 'case our
men was conscripted," they said. One woman and her daughter of eighteen
had each a filthy, ragged bed quilt over her shoulders, and their faces
were so swarthy that their eyes and teeth presented as great a contrast
as those whose natural skin was of darker hue. As the little boy of
four years had no shoes, and I had a pair left that would fit him, I
told the mother to wash his feet and try them. "Sal, bring me that cup
thar," said the woman. Their drinking cup with water was brought. "Han'
me that rag thar," and she wet her hand and wet the feet, and was
wiping off the mud, when I told her they were not washed; to look at
the mud on the bottom of his feet and between his toes. "O, yez'm," she
drawled out, and wet one end of the rag in the cup, and made a second
effort. When the shoes were put on, he could not walk without holding
to his mother or sister. They were probably the first he had ever had.
Most of the day was spent in visiting this class of persons--the most
ignorant, listless, and degraded of any people I had ever met. On
giving a description of the ignorance and filth, of the poor whites I
called on, Colonel Blair inquired "What would you do with them?"
"I would keep body and soul together till Spring opens," I answered,
"and then load up your great army wagons, and take them out upon the
rich prairies and dump them out, giving them the homely adage, 'Root,
pig, or die.'"
The greatest difficulty in managing this class was to get them to do
any thing. Not so with colored people; they would do any thing they
could find to do.
I found in this camp of two thousand, a colored woman of an earnest
Christian principle. Colonel Blair gave her an excellent character. He
said that I might place implicit confidence in any statement she would
make. Her history was a novel one. She ran away from a cruel master to
the Indians, and married an old Indian, and had four children. She said
her husband came in great excitement and asked her if she wanted to run
away to the Yankees? She said no, because she thought they were another
tribe of Indians. He ran out, and soon came back, and said, "If you
run, go quick. I am old; they can't rob me of many days, but they
sha'n't have the children to punish." He threw them on a horse and ran
off into the woods. She supposed her old master had found her out, and
ran another way. Then she heard that her husband was dead, But the Lord
hid her from the cruel master, though he broke up her family.
After spending three days in this place, including Sunday, I took the
Monday morning stage for Leavenworth. In sending packages to all these
places, to reliable friends with whom I had made acquaintance, I
requested that no clothing be given to healthy men and women who
refused to do work when they could get it.
In one of the hospitals at Leavenworth were two Confederates, one of
whom had recently become a Christian. He said when he went into this
army he knew not for what they were fighting, but when he learned the
real cause, he was for the Union, and should do all he could for it.
During the month of December, we relieved four hundred and forty-four
families. There were thirty children in both buildings under my care.
By request of J. R. Brown, the Freedmen's Aid Commission of Michigan
consented to allow me to take charge of white refugees in connection
with the freedmen. General Curtis detailed a sergeant for my assistant.
Another important helper was a noble young woman, Amanda A. Way, who
opened a school for children of inmates of the two buildings. I found
it difficult to bring into school the white children, and only by a
requisition could I accomplish it, or induce the mothers to wash the
hands and faces, and comb the hair of their children, to fit them for
school.
This, like all previous fields of army mission work, was a laborious
one. Our Sundays were spent in teaching a large class in three
Sabbath-schools, besides attending the public services and generally
taking part in them. At the close of one of the meetings a deacon and
his wife rushed through the crowd to me, and gave such an exhibition of
joy that it drew the attention of the congregation. He gave a glowing
account of my visit to Little Rock, Arkansas, and of my life-long work
for their down-trodden people. The hand-shaking for half an hour made
my hands lame for three days. The deacon bought himself when a young
man, and acquired a property worth four thousand dollars. Slave-holders
often said that he knew too much, and thought he was a damage to their
slaves. If they lost any, they charged him with aiding them away. He
was often lodged in jail and fines imposed upon him. At length he sold
his property at half its value to come to Kansas, where he could
breathe freely.
On New Year's day I found a poor woman in the last stages of
consumption. She could not speak a loud word. I hired another poor
woman to care for her, by giving bed and wearing clothes for herself
and children. I left them in tears, saying, "We thank you, honey, and
praise God. When my poor mother died in that old out-cellar, neither
father nor one of us was permitted to give her a cup of cold water, but
the last words she was heard to say was, 'I'm going home to die no
more.'"
I visited ten families and sent four boxes more of supplies to Fort
Scott. The next day I took a barrel of hospital supplies to Fort
Leavenworth.
My supplies were now low, and the money nearly spent. I received a
letter from the chairman of the committee having charge of preparations
for the Ladies' State Freedmen's Fair, to be held in Detroit,
soliciting relics of the war. J. R. Brown proposed that I should attend
the fair and take his brother's sharp-shooter, that the captain carried
through the border-ruffian conflict in Kansas, and during his movement
at Harper's Ferry. After a few days' reflection I reached the
conclusion to go. General Curtis gave me a pass to Detroit and return.
The John Brown gun created much interest. Besides this relic, the fifty
pounds of slave-irons, which we picked up on deserted plantations in
the far South, were exhibited in this fair. A petition from Lenawee
County was sent to the committee having charge of the fair, to place
the avails of our county, one thousand dollars, in my hands for
distribution. This money relieved much suffering, and no doubt saved
many lives.
During my visit home I sold Raisin Institute and ten acres of land,
with an excellent orchard, to the State Freedmen's Aid Commission for
an orphans' home. I donated three hundred dollars of the purchase money
to this enterprise, stipulating that the premises were to be used for
no other purpose. In my absence the friends gave the asylum the name of
"Haviland Home for Homeless and Destitute Children." This home I
intended as a nucleus for a State Orphan Asylum, as the war had
increased the necessity for such an institution.
After two weeks' absence I returned with supplies. Spring was lessening
the suffering, yet sickness from long exposures still prevailed. Miss
Fidelia Phillips, a teacher, came with a letter from the Michigan
Freedmen's Aid Commission, for us to locate and secure board, which
duty fell upon me. I hired a conveyance and took her to Oskaloosa,
Jefferson County, and found board for her in the kind family of Dr. J.
Nelson, who proposed to assist the colored people in securing a house
for the school at once.
I found here a poor sick woman with her five children, who was ordered
out of her cabin, as she could no longer pay the rent. Dr. Nelson
promised to see that she was not disturbed until she was able to be
moved, when he would take the family to Leavenworth to go with me to
our Home for Homeless Children in Michigan. Her husband was in the
army, and she had not heard from him since he enlisted. On my return to
Leavenworth I received an order from our Freedmen's Aid Commission, to
send twenty-five children with five mothers to assist in caring for
them. I accompanied them as far as Quincy, Illinois, with Mrs. Lee and
a teacher who had been in the work a few months. They pursued their
journey, and I went back.
On April 15th the sad news reached us of the assassination of President
Lincoln! A nation in mourning! Every house of any note or size was
draped with black.
We were now preparing to close the two refugee buildings before leaving
for Michigan. I offered the women the best dresses for finding their
own places for work, and by this means many found places, if only to
work for their board till they could do better. A good old woman we
called Aunt Phoebe came to us with her four grandchildren, and begged
to go to Michigan with me. She said the father of the children ran away
to enlist in the army, and his master followed him. After an absence of
three days, he returned with the report that he had got sight at him,
and ordered him to come to him, but he refused, and he shot him dead.
At this report his wife (the daughter of Aunt Phoebe), gave a scream
and fainted. Both master and mistress were very severe, and whipped her
severely for making so much fuss, as they called her grief. She sank
under their severity, and died, leaving her infant, a week old, with
her mother. Within a few days the oldest boy was taken with small-pox,
but as he was not very near the other sick children, Dr. Carpenter
thought the others would escape. I rolled him in a couple of quilts and
sent him to the pest-house. Aunt Phoebe wept bitterly, as she said she
should probably never see Jerry again, and he was such a good boy to
help her take care of the other children. A few days later she was
taken with a low type of lung fever. I had one of the colored women in
the place nurse her.
The white refugee women took but little notice of my offer of best
dresses, in finding homes for themselves. I found these women of the
lowest class of humanity. I called on General Curtis, and told him I
had expended my fund of lecturing material upon these white women in
the refugee building, and now I had come to report to him as I had of
late threatened them, that, while I was willing to do to the extent of
my ability in relieving and improving the most degraded, I could not
consent to keep under my charge a house of ill-fame. "I will give you a
good honest guard day and night over that building," said the noble
general. This did more than all things else to scatter them. They swore
they would not be tyrannized over by that Yankee woman any longer, and
left, very much to my relief.
Within four weeks our little small-pox boy was returned, but not as
safe as the surgeon reported I took him into the wash-room and gave him
a thorough cleansing, before taking him to see his grandmother, who
wept for joy.
I spent a few days in revisiting Quindaro, Lawrence, Wyandotte, and
Kansas City. I found seven homeless children, and a mother of three of
them who wished to go with me to Michigan. During the day and night I
was in Kansas City I was taken with a severe attack of pneumonia. I
called on an army surgeon for mustard, of which, I placed a plaster
over the seat of the pain, that had become so severe as to cut every
breath. I could neither lie down nor sit still, but walked the room.
Placing the children in charge of the mother, I telegraphed my sergeant
to meet me at the boat with a hack. I took the boat for Leavenworth,
where the carriage met me, and I was taken to our home, with a high
fever, but the pain not quite so severe, as the mustard was serving its
purpose. Dr. Carpenter said I could not go to Michigan under a month.
Although my side remained very sore, yet I managed to sell the
furniture. I took a hack to General Curtis's office, and managed to
secure transportation for seventy-five, myself and Mrs. Lee included.
There were three sick children, and I very much doubted the propriety
of removing them. Dr. Carpenter said they would be more likely to live
than if taken to the hospital, as I proposed.
We left the city May 28th, with a cloud resting over the nation. My
health was still poor, and we had three sick children, whose mother was
with them; three other children began to complain of chills and fever
soon after leaving. These cases soon developed in measles, but my haste
to reach home urged me to proceed against my better judgment. While it
looked like presumption in others, I felt safe, as prayer for guidance
was my daily bread. While waiting at St. Joseph, Missouri, for the
train, I obtained rations for the company. Susan B. Anthony had
provided a lunch-basket, well filled, for Mrs. Lee and myself, to serve
for the entire journey.
While we were handing around rations, various remarks were made as to
what I was going to do with all this company. Said one, "I reckon,
she's got a big plantation to stock with a picked set of young niggers,
she's going to train to her own liking." Said another, "I am going to
ask where she is going with them." At length one ventured, "Will you
please excuse me, madam, if I ask you where you are taking all this
company?"
"Certainly," was my answer; "I am glad to inform you. I am taking these
orphan children, who have been picked up on the streets, and out of
freedmen's homes, to an orphan school in Michigan. By order of the
State Freedmen's Aid Commission, they will be sent to school until good
homes can be secured for them, where they will be taught habits of
industry, as well as to improve their intellects. We of the North think
they can learn, if an opportunity is provided."
At this he was much pleased, and, as it was communicated to other
bystanders, a number came to congratulate me in my good work. One, who
had a large number of slaves, said he wished they were with me, "as it
would be a right smart of a while before it'll be settled here to have
schools for 'em."
All stood ready to put the sick ones on the train. Mrs. Lee took care
of the sick during the night, and I had them in charge during the day.
After our arrival at Quincy, Illinois, and our transportation papers
were filled out for Chicago, with a little difficulty I secured the
largest coach for the seventy-five passengers. By 9 P. M. all were in
their beds. A few men were disposed to trouble us, because we did not
allow them to enter. I called for the night policeman, and told him of
four drunken men who were disposed to give us trouble, and as the train
was not going out until eleven o'clock I appealed to him for aid. He
assured me we should not receive further annoyance from them. We
arrived in Chicago thirty minutes before the Michigan train left for
Adrian. I bought tickets for four omnibus loads, but the drivers were
determined to crowd them all into two. As they were putting little
folks from four to eight years old on the tops I ordered them down. "We
are capable of taking care of these children, madam," said they; "you
take that one."
"So am I capable of taking care of them," I replied, "and of you too; I
paid for four omnibuses and must have them." They had their own sport
over their countermanded orders.
We arrived at Adrian June 1st, and met the superintendent of the
"Haviland Home" with teams for the women and children. Here my heavy
burden fell off, and I dropped into the home of my children to get the
rest which I so much needed.
A few week's rest restored my health. Meanwhile I visited our State
Prison, and one of the convicts, Thomas Lean, requested an interview
with me, which was granted by the officer. He appealed to me to aid him
in securing his pardon, as he had served seven years of his term of
fifteen. He pleaded as earnestly in behalf of his wife and two little
children as for himself. I told him I would do what I could, but as
efforts had been made twice before, I thought success quite doubtful. I
drafted a petition, and secured a letter of recommendation from
Governor Blair, and a strong letter from Judge Ross Wilkins, who gave
the sentence, and from the prosecuting attorney who acted in behalf of
the United States in his case, and also secured fifty other names to
the petition. With six hundred dollars placed in my hands by Mrs.
Campbell and Mrs. Pappineau, committee who had charge of the funds of
the Freedmen's Fair, I left for Washington, D. C., August 3d. At
Pittsburg I spent one night, and on the following day visited the State
Prison at Allegheny City.
The next morning I took the early train for Baltimore, and from thence
to Annapolis, to learn the result of Elizabeth L. Comstock's petition
in behalf of fifteen convicts in the Maryland Penitentiary for aiding
slaves to escape from bondage. I found ten of those men had been
pardoned, but as four of them had used weapons in defending themselves,
and one had taken a span of horses which the friends engaged in their
behalf deemed theft, they were retained in prison. I found another on
the governor's record for the same offense. I took the names of the six
on my list, as the governor thought they were as worthy of release as
the others, since the weapons were designed for self-defense, and the
horses were only used to take them to the river, and were left to
return to their owners. I saw the names of the friends who co-operated
with E. L. Comstock on the petition, and called on James Bains, who
introduced me to Judge Bond. The judge said he thought I was correct in
my views as to the worthiness of the six men presented for his
recommendation to the governor for clemency, and that he would attend
to it soon. Said the Friend: "If thou feel'st easy to petition for
their pardon I think thou hadst better remain with us until it is
accomplished, as they have such an amount of business on hand at this
time."
The judge seemed to think himself distrusted, and said: "Mrs. Haviland,
I will attend to this within a week." With this assurance I told the
judge and the Friend that I should feel easy to pursue my journey the
first of the week.
From this office I was accompanied to the penitentiary and introduced
to the warden, who sent a guide to conduct me through the shops and
granted me the privilege of addressing the sixty-eight female convicts.
A large majority of them were colored, placed there by their former
owners for trivial offenses, the real cause being that of leaving them,
but ostensibly for stealing a dress, a pair of shoes, or a dollar or
two, etc. One smart-looking octoroon girl of eighteen years was about
to be whipped by her mistress, but she had heard of the proclamation of
emancipation and concluded that she had been whipped long enough, and
snatched the cowhide from the mistress and whipped her. For this she
was arrested, had a sham trial, and a sentence of nine years'
imprisonment in the penitentiary. One man told me that the mistress
reported that the girl half killed her, but he saw her riding out
within four days after the whipping, and she looked as well as usual. I
visited a very sick white woman in her cell, to whom I read a portion
of Scripture, and at her request led in prayer. She said she was going
to meet her Judge, in whom she trusted. Jesus hears the cry of a
repentant sinner, and she was confident.
The following day was the Sabbath, and I accompanied my friend to the
penitentiary, where he opened the Sabbath-school and invited me to
teach a class of thirty men. There were nearly five hundred inmates in
prison. As we were leaving the yard a request from the warden reached
me to conduct the funeral service of the woman I had visited. She died
within a few hours after I left. Three o'clock P.M. was the hour
appointed. I met them in their chapel, that was well filled, some
ladies of the city being present. Many of the convicts were much
affected. They also manifested great interest at the meeting on the
previous day.
On the following day I arrived at Washington. I found the White House
perfectly besieged with pardon-seekers from ex-slave States. I called
on a number of the officials, who said that the severity of Thomas
Lean's sentence made the case look dark. I told them of one who had
robbed the mail of five thousand dollars and was pardoned in three
years, whose term was ten years. But he had wealthy and influential
friends to intercede for him, while this man robbed the mail of
forty-two dollars and had served over seven years of the fifteen, and
was poor. Besides, his wife was in poor health, and was supporting
herself and two small children. I was advised to take the letters, with
petition, to Postmaster-general Dennison, from whom I secured a
recommendation for his pardon. From thence I went to the capitol and
secured the names of Hon. F. C. Beaman, Member of Congress, Senator Z.
Chandler, and all other Michigan members of both Houses to my petition;
and through Mr. Wade, the President's house-keeper, I secured an
audience with the President, who took my letters with the petition and
said he would refer them to the Attorney-general, and do what seemed
best in the case. I then left him with his room crowded with Southern
pardon-seekers.
While in the Postmaster-general's office the chief clerk said, "Come
into this, office at nine A.M., next Wednesday, as I think that will be
his pardoning day, and you will learn the result." I waited until
eleven A.M., fearing for the worst. As I opened the office-door the
clerk threw up both hands, crying, "Your man is pardoned! your man is
pardoned! Come and see the notice in this morning's paper." A hearty
hand-shaking followed the good news.
I told him I did not know that he had taken such an interest in my
cause. He replied, "I have had an interest in this case from the first
time you came into this office." A few days after I received a note
from the pardoned man conveying his tearful thanks. Here was another
burden laid aside, for which grateful thanks were tendered to the
Healer of broken hearts.
I received a permit from Secretary Stanton to trade at the government
store, where new goods were being sold at auction rates. For five
hundred dollars I purchased two thousand dollars' worth of supplies to
disburse among the sick, crippled, and aged, both colored and white.
There were many in Washington and Georgetown relieved from great
suffering. I learned of much suffering at Harper's Ferry, and took four
hundred dollars' worth to that point.
On my way I called at the Baltimore penitentiary. As I entered the
warden's office he informed me that our men had been released ten days
before, except one, who was going out within a week. Another burden
left me. These men were making efforts to free their families by
flight, and were caught and received long sentences, according to the
number in their families. Three men of the six had bought themselves,
and in their efforts to free their families received from ten to thirty
years' sentence, although two of these families were recovered by their
owners. They all looked like intelligent men. I took an early train for
Harper's Ferry. In the seat opposite sat a Presbyterian D. D., with his
body-servant, who was very attentive in bringing him his coffee, books,
or roll of manuscript "How far are you going on this road, madam?"
inquired our dignitary.
On informing him he inquired, "Have you friends there?"
"I have," I said, "but I never saw them. They are the poorest of the
poor, the sick, lame, and blind, of all classes, black, white, red, or
yellow. I draw no lines of demarcation."
"Well, madam, that is a noble work, and God will bless you in it. I am
now on my way to Vicksburg. I preached in that city a number of years.
I own a plantation near that city, and had forty slaves. A little
before Vicksburg fell I moved with them to Richmond, Virginia, and when
that city fell I set them free, and they are now as free as myself.
Madam, I will tell you what your duty is. It is to go to New York,
Philadelphia, and Boston, and gather up fifty thousand dollars, and
follow Sherman's track through to the Gulf. You will find plenty of
suffering to relieve among both white and black; and you can do it.
Those cities I have named are wealthy, I have been there myself. I
spent a few months in New York, and I know you can gather up that
amount easy, and it's your duty, madam; and God will bless you in it."
The consequential air be assumed would give one an impression that he,
at least, considered himself, inspired with power from on high. He did
not feel quite satisfied without repeating his command on our arrival
at Harper's Ferry: "Do as I have told you, madam, and God will bless
you; good by."
I found my goods had just arrived, and the commander of the post kindly
offered to store the bales of supplies and furnish an ambulance and
driver whenever I desired. My first inquiry was for a boarding place,
as the house where the colonel was boarding was full. Mrs. Johnson was
about opening a boarding-house, and I called on her for a few days'
board.
"Where are you from?"
"From Washington," was my reply, "with supplies for the poor freedmen
and whites who are in a suffering condition."
"Oh, you are a Bureau woman then. We don't have nothin' to do with
Bureau folks. I can't board you."
After being directed to two others, who made like inquiries, and
received like replies, I found I was going to have an all-day job on
hand in feeling the public pulse at Harper's Ferry. After making eight
calls, chatting a while at each place pleasantly, for I would talk in
no other way, although I was told in nearly every place that no one in
that town would disgrace himself by walking on the streets with a
nigger teacher, or speaking to one, on my way to report my unsuccessful
day's work to the colonel, it being after sunset, I found an army
surgeon sitting on his front porch.
"Have you found no place for dinner?" he asked.
"O no," I said, "I have been amusing myself over Confederate fever that
I find runs too high for health in your town."
"My mother-in-law is away," he answered, "but my wife and I will give
you our room to-night, and we will see that you have supper at once."
At Mrs. Bilson's (the mother-in-law) I remained during the week.
At the close of the week I attended a quarterly-meeting of the
Methodist Episcopal Church. When the minister invited all who loved the
Lord Jesus to testify, I, with others, accepted and took part. At the
close he came and inquired who I was. I introduced myself as usual.
After reading my papers from the Governor, Members of Congress, and a
few ministers of Michigan, I received a number of invitations to their
houses, which gave me an opportunity to relate my first day's
experience in their town. They made a number of excuses. Among them was
the fact that Miss Mann (Horace Mann's sister), kept herself
exclusively with the colored people. She not only taught their school,
but boarded with them, and made no calls on white people. They
acknowledged that those upon whom I had called were not in sympathy
with the Union.
Here, as in other places, were those in extreme suffering, both white
and colored. One blind man, and an old white man and his wife, were too
sick to take care of each other. One sick woman, whose husband was in
the army, had no fire, only as the little girl of three years old
gathered old boots and shoes around an old camp with which to build it.
All of these cases were relieved.
One day it rained too hard to be out. A little girl brought an umbrella
with a request from her folks for me to call on them. I went and met
about a dozen men and women, who wished to consult with me. The troops
were liable to be withdrawn. If so, their lives would not be safe an
hour. A few nights before a mob broke their windows and rushed into
their grocery and took sacks of flour and meal, pies, cakes, and
crackers, and strewed them over the street, in front of their grocery,
and broke up their chairs and tables, and swore that no nigger should
have a business place on Main Street. They threw stones and brickbats
into their living rooms, and the men, women, and children ran to the
soldiers for protection, with bleeding bruises that were bound up at
the time of my call. A sad picture they presented with their broken
furniture and injured bodies.
"What use is there in gathering more? Can you tell us what to do? You
see our lives are in danger as it is. If the troops shall be withdrawn,
what shall we do?"
There was a Free-will Baptist just arrived, who proposed opening a
mission school in that town, and had just sent word that he wanted to
meet them at their prayer-meeting. Of this I, as well as they, was glad
to hear. I met with them, and was pleased with the Christian spirit of
this brother, and the prospect of his school among them seemed like a
silver lining in their dark cloud. We learned of his success in opening
and continuing that school, which a few years after assumed the
character of an academy.
The following day I took the train for Washington, and was accompanied
to the depot by a number of the citizens, who manifested very kindly
feelings, I was told by some to be sure to call on them if I ever
visited their town again, and they would see that a weeks or a months
board should cost me nothing. One man and his wife pointed to their
brick house to which I could come, and be more than welcome. I left
them, and soon met kindred spirits in Washington.