HOME MISSION WORK.
There were many sick, crippled, aged, and blind sufferers in Washington
to visit and relieve, but the severest trial I endured was encountering
the virus of disloyalty wherever I went. Women were more outspoken than
men, because they could dare be. Men were more subtle and appeared more
pliant, only to hoodwink government. They said in secret, "We'll yet
gain by the _ballot_, with the help of Northern sympathizers, what we
failed to accomplish with the bullet." By order of President Johnson
the colored soldiers were every where discharged and withdrawn from
forts and garrisons, at the request of their former masters, only to be
left to their unrelenting hate. One colored man returned to the
plantation of his wife's master, and asked him if he could take his
wife and children to himself, as he had means, after two years of
service to support them. The only answer he received was the contents
of a pistol, that took his life instantly! I heard of similar murders
in this vicinity, of which no notice was taken by the State authorities.
I visited a number of large schools in Alexandria, September 14th, and
was invited to address them. Two of these were kept in two of the
largest slave-pens in the city. Alexandria was one of the greatest
slave marts in Virginia. In the Avery slave-pen there was a
dungeon-like room, designed for one standing, with iron staples to
which the wrists were locked, and a sort of stocks for the feet, when a
stream of cold water was pumped over the nude form of the refractory
slave, from ten minutes to an hour or more, according to the offense.
They told me they had known them taken down chilled to death. It was
said to be one of the most cruel punishments. They showed me the stump
of the whipping post, where hundreds of writhing victims had suffered
this kind of torture. But it did seem as if the better day was coming,
to see a hundred and fifty-three black children here so eager to learn,
and to hear them read so well after only four months' schooling. I met
a woman on the street in deep mourning who was weeping. I inquired the
cause of her grief. She said: "I have been to visit the grave of my
only son. His father died a few months ago, and this darling son was my
only child. He died in the Union army; but what does all this terrible
sacrifice amount to? President Johnson is giving strength to the
rebels. Every rebel general has been pardoned, and the vast amount of
land restored to them is increasing their power. You see, wherever
troops are withdrawn they commit murders, and no notice is taken of it.
I feel as though my son's life and thousands of other precious lives
have been sacrificed for nothing." I could say but little to comfort
that poor, broken-hearted, widowed, childless mother. I could only
commend her to our Heavenly Father, who alone can console the widow's
aching heart.
On September 15th I took a steamer for Richmond, Virginia, and arrived
on the 16th at Fredericksburg. Here were standing many chimneys,
showing us the waste places and burned houses in this small but quaint
old city. I called at the teachers' boarding-house, kept by a good
Union family, Wm. J. Jeffries. Mrs. King accompanied me to the
soldiers' hospital. Here, as elsewhere, the poor suffering soldier
seemed rejoiced to see and hear the representative of their mothers.
After reading the Scripture and prayer I left a number in tears.
Here was the home of General Washington's mother. I visited the house,
and a feeling of solemnity came over me as we passed through her
sitting room into the large bed-room, where report said she died. Near
by is her tomb. The pedestal only stands erect, but badly marred by the
chisel in chipping off pieces, by hundreds of visitors Our teachers
inquired if I would not like a chip from the tomb. I told them that no
chisel or hammer should be applied for me; but I picked up a little
piece at its base. We had gone but few rods before a carriage drove to
the tomb, and the chisel and hammer were flaking off keepsakes for four
men. The long block of marble designed to have been placed on the
pedestal lay near it half buried in the ground where it had lain nearly
or quite a century.
After inspecting the rebel earth-works and rifle-pits, I visited Miss
Strausburg's school of 181 poor white children, quite unlike any
colored school I had visited any where, as to order. They commenced to
sneer at me the moment I entered, but their teacher invited me to speak
to the school, and they became at once quiet and respectful. Little
James Stone asked permission to sing for me, and he sang a religious
hymn in which nearly all the school joined. To my surprise they sang
the "Red, White and Blue" and "The Soldier's Farewell to his Mother,"
for which I thanked them. In passing along the street after the school
was dismissed, many of the children came out with their mothers,
pointing toward me. At two places I halted to speak to them and their
mothers, which pleased them very much.
The next day I visited a few Union families, who gave some interesting
facts concerning their trials. I left two dollars with one sick woman,
who wept as I left her. I called at Major Johnson's headquarters. He
was very anxious to send on an orphan baby one year old to Camp Lee
orphanage, in Richmond. He gave me a paper that would secure its
admission. On arriving at Richmond I left my charge at the orphanage.
As no name was on the paper, or was given to me with the child, the
matron, Mrs. Gibbons, named him Haviland Gibbons.
I visited the orphanage a number of times. The matron said the little
fellow learned his name very readily. Here was a pair of twin boys,
about two years old, very black and smart. As they quarreled so much of
the time, Judge Fitzhugh proposed to name them Abe and Jeff, after the
two Presidents. Though a strong Confederate, he said they were smarter
than any white children he ever saw, and to prove his position he
called them out to dance, as he had taught them to step the figure. He
sang for them, and they danced to his music.
"There, I'll venture to say," he said, "you never saw two white
children of their age do that. I tell you the negro race is naturally
smarter than the Anglo-Saxon."
I told him I was surprised at this remark, when he had told me a few
minutes before that the negroes would soon die out, because they could
not take care of themselves.
"That is true," he rejoined, "and I have written a book in which I take
the same position, and can prove it. They will do more work than white
people can, but they lack calculation; hence the necessity of their
being under the supervision of the whites." We have the planning
faculty, and they have the ability to do the work. There is therefore a
necessity for both races to work together to be a successful people. I
repeat what I told you before, that we never shall prosper separated.
The power of governing must remain with the Anglo-Saxon race, and God
has so designed. The Yankees have made a sad mistake in freeing the
slave, for in time they will become extinct; but God will never suffer
this state of things to remain, and you will see the South in power in
two years, and the North minus the power she now wields.
I cited him to black men in Canada, who had escaped from slavery and
who had acquired wealth, and to one of the wealthiest livery men in
their own city. I also referred to a shoemaker who had been free but a
few months.
His credit was sufficient to purchase ten dollars' worth of stock,
which he made up and sold, paying for his stock; he then made another
purchase and was hard at work to purchase a little home. His wife was
washing and house-cleaning, with the same object in view. They told me
they allowed themselves meat but once a week, and lived on corn-bread,
mush, and molasses, and that they intended to live and work in this way
until they should succeed.
"Does not this look like calculation?" I asked.
"I admit," he said, "there are isolated cases, but it is not the rule."
He gave me his book to read, entitled "Sociology of the South, by J.
Fitzhugh, Att'y." I found it a perfect bundle of inconsistencies. He
goes into a labored argument against free-labor, free-schools,
free-press and free-speech, as destructive to a prosperous people. He
claimed to be a cousin of Gerrit Smith's wife, and said that they were
crazy over slavery. He also claimed that President Johnson was doing
all he could for them, and that through him they were going to have
their rights restored. He knew of men who had gathered half a bushel of
Confederate money, and said they should keep it until it would be worth
as much as greenbacks. He also knew men who had bills of sale of
negroes, a foot deep, that they were keeping to recover their slaves,
or pay for them; and he was confident that it would be accomplished
within two years. This I found to be a very general feeling among the
most prominent Confederates.
On September 20th I visited a number of sick that I supplied with
bedding and clothing. I walked six miles that day, and then went to the
office of the Freedmen's Bureau, where I was furnished with an
ambulance and driver to take things to the sufferers I had visited.
After spending several days in this work, visiting schools and giving
attention to many sufferers, I returned, weary in body but restful in
mind, and thankful that the friends of humanity had made me the almoner
of their gifts.
On October 2d I spent some time in Libby Prison. My sanitary goods were
stored in one apartment of it. The prisoners were under guards, and
were permitted to assist me in opening, closing, and moving barrels and
boxes, a portion of which I prepared to take to Ashland. One of the
keepers took me to the long, deep tunnel which the Union prisoners had
dug under the building to escape from their terrible sufferings. To
look at the great risk they were running in their fruitless effort to
escape, speaks loudly of the desperation to which they were driven. My
guide gave me a few of the hand-cuffs that our officers removed from
some of the emaciated prisoners when Richmond was taken. The doors of
Castle Thunder and Libby were opened, and the hand-cuffs were placed on
their cruel keepers, who had made a boast of killing as many Yankees in
these prisons as their troops were killing in battle.
I went out some distance, October 3d, to an old camp, where a school
was organized in an old slave-pen. Here was the stump of the
whipping-post cut even with the ground. I was shown where stood the
auction-block. As I listened to a history of cruelties inflicted here I
did not wonder that our nation was compelled to pass through this
baptism of blood. Pointing to a large plantation in sight, said one:
"There lives my old master, who said in the beginning of this war,
'Before my children shall ever be disgraced with work I will wade in
blood to the horse's bridle.' He did fight hard as long as the war
lasted. But last week he told his two sons that they must go to work or
die. He came into my shoe-shop the other day with his feet almost bare,
and I took the best pair of boots I had and gave them to him. I know he
thought of old days, for I did."
After talking to the children at school I visited the aged and sick.
Anthony Wilson, very aged, said, "Dun kno' how ole I is. White folks
say I's more'n eighty. Had heaps o' ups an' downs; good many more downs
dan ups; my big family all tore to pieces two times." I gave him a
whole suit of clothes. "Bress de good Lo'd," he exclaimed, "dis is de
best suit I eber had; dis I reckon is my freedom suit." Mary Brackson,
also very old, had two little grandchildren with her. Their mother was
sold down the river when the youngest was a year old. Her life had been
a sad one. She was crippled with rheumatism, and her arm had been
broken by an overseer's club. I gave her a bed-tick, quilt, blanket,
and a few clothes for herself and grandchildren. Then I visited and
relieved four other families, to whom I gave advice, and with the most
I read and offered prayer, which always seemed to be a great comfort to
them.
Two days after I took a train with supplies for Ashland. I arrived in
the afternoon and met an excellent Union family, formerly from England,
Judge James, whose house was battered on each side with bullets and
shells in the severe battle fought at that place. This town, the home
of some strong political men, seemed dilapidated and forsaken. Judge
James's wife and daughter were noble women, and I found a very pleasant
home in this family. They directed me to the most suffering families
and individuals. My first call was on Charlotte Boles, whose reply to
the query for her age was, "I dun kno'; missus 'specks I's eighty,
large odd." She had served three generations.
"I's had so many children," she said, "I can't tell till I call de
names: Pomp, Jim, Tom, Sol, Sue, Dick, an' Dilcy; den some babies I's
got in heaven. I seed heap o' trouble in my time. I nursed at de breas'
eleven of my firs' massar's chillen, Isaac Wiston, and six of his
gran'-chillen. I dress 'em firs', an' some on 'em for de grave. My
secon' massar, William Winfield, Jun., da have six chillen, an' I dress
'em all firs', and most all at las' for de grave. O my God, I can
neber, neber tell de trouble I's had. O how hard I prayed for freedom,
an' de Lord come at las'. I's praise his name. De one dat I nurst when
a babie ordered me whipped 'case I cried so much when da sole my
chillen down de riber. But I hear dat de war free five of my chillen,
an' I's prayin' God to sen' 'em to poor me."
Notwithstanding her great age her mind was unusually clear, and the
frequent starting tear manifested strong maternal affection.
There was not a house, yard, or grove but bore the mark of shell or
bullet.
An exciting scene passed before us October 15th. Young Mrs. Pollard,
daughter of my host, who had became the wife of the noted Confederate
editor of the most rabid paper in Richmond, had been forbidden to visit
or even to correspond with her parents. Her husband said if she should
attempt it, it would be at her peril. She found him to be inconstant,
as he had become the paramour of a Cyprian in New York city, where he
spent several weeks writing a book on the bravery of Confederate
soldiers. "When she discovered these facts, with her heart full of
grief, she told him the reports she had heard of his inconstancy. He
acknowledged all, and entreated her pardon. But he soon became as cruel
as ever. During his absence in New York she took her son of less than
two years and came to her father's house, a poor, heart broken woman. A
divorce was immediately sued for, and she received a summons to appear
in court in Richmond. Although her father was there to receive her, she
feared Mr. Pollard would take her life, also her father's, at their
parting. She threw her arms around her mother's neck and wept upon her
shoulders; then, sobbing, said, as she rested her head upon my
shoulders:
"Mrs. Haviland, you won't leave me after our arrival in Richmond until
I am with my father, will you?"
With an assurance that I would remain at her side until her father took
her under his protection, she left her babe with her mother and we
departed for Richmond. We met her father, with whom I felt she would be
safe. I find these extremes of love and hate more prevalent in the
South than in the North.
On the 18th of October, after visiting fifteen suffering families, I
called at the office for an ambulance and driver to go to Libby Prison
for supplies. These were obtained and distributed, and such gratitude
from the recipients I never found elsewhere. Same of them wept aloud. A
number of the women kissed my hands as I left them, and the hearty "God
bless you, honey," was an everyday blessing from these poor-crushed
spirits.
One of our officers came to me with the urgent request of two women,
living in a large brick house, to see me. I obeyed the summons at once.
As I rang the door-bell, a genteelly dressed lady in black satin met me
at the door. I inquired if there were two ladies here who had sent for
me? She replied in the affirmative. By this time the other lady
appeared in the hall, also dressed in rich silk.
"What are your greatest needs," I asked, "that will come within my
power to supply?"
"We want money, madam," they said, "and must have it."
"Are any of your family sick?"
"No, madam, but money we must have."
"Will rations answer your purpose?"
"No, madam, we want no such thing; we want _money_, and must have it."
I told them I had no money to disburse, and only supplied food and
clothing to those who were suffering from greatest destitution, and
left them without being invited inside their house. I saw at once they
were most accustomed to the imperative mood.
The captain came to me a few days after and inquired if I found it in
the way of my duty to relieve the wants of those two ladies? I told him
I asked them a few questions and did not think it worth the money
demanded. He said they had sent for him, and a number of other
officers, making the same demand, and as they had not succeeded they
sent for me, and he was not disappointed at the result.
As I was passing their news depot, I saw blazoned in red letters, "No
_New Nation_ sold here" I stepped in and inquired for their best paper.
The _Examiner_ was handed me, edited by Pollard, the whilom son-in-law
of Judge James, one of the most rabid Confederate sheets in Richmond. I
inquired where the _New Nation_ was sold. They said nowhere, unless a
few "niggers" might be found selling it on, the street. One of them
poured forth a long catalogue of epithets: "Arrant liar," "reckless
villain," and finally a "crazy scamp."
As I was passing the street one day, and saw "New Nation," I thought I
would call on the "insane editor," Mr. Hunnicutt. I ascended to the
third story, where I found the busy editor and his son. They were
surprised to see a lady of sufficient moral courage to call on them.
The editor exhibited a pile of anonymous letters, threatening his life.
He was an outspoken Union man, and had received over one hundred of
these nameless letters within three months. He was a native of
Virginia, and said:
"The Union of the States is a fixed fact, and I will advocate it
squarely, though it cost me my life, but Union principles must and will
prevail."
I left a dollar for a subscription to the _New Nation_ for six months.
As I was about to leave, said he, with tearful eye:
"A select few in this city meet once a week for a prayer-meeting, but I
can not attend it in the evening, as it is unsafe for me to be out
after dark."
I told him I had received a secret invitation, and had attended each
meeting since my first knowledge of this praying band. I told him it
was one of the most solemn meetings I had ever attended. As in the days
of the apostles, we met in an upper room at the hour of prayer, where I
had heard the editor of the _New Nation_ remembered.
"I know," he said, "that I have friends in this city, and some I know
are secretly friends for fear of this bitter spirit that reigns to a
fearful extent. Don't forget to pray for me and my family. I dare not
bring my wife and daughter to this city."
My work kept me here many days. November 25th I spent mostly at the
sanitary rooms in Libby Prison, with Miss Morris, a French lady, who
served as a spy for the Union generals. Report had it that she was
writing a book of her exploits. A soldier told me he saw her a prisoner
in Southern hands before the fall of New Orleans. But she managed to
make her escape from that city, and in disguise revisited it, and
reported to our generals. She could speak French and German better than
our own language. She often disguised herself most effectually. Her
French politeness would have been quite annoying to me had it not been
for the faithful assistance she rendered in seeking out the sick and
dying, not hesitating to enter filthy alleys, dark, cold cellars, or
with me to climb rickety flights of stairs into dark attics. I have
found in almost every place one or more Christian women who kindly
offered to assist me, but few would dare visit those filthy places,
fearing contagious diseases. Having had the small pox, and all other
common contagious diseases, with my very plain habits of living, I
dared to visit the sick and dying in any of these loathsome places,
many of which I found in Richmond.
The next day, being Sunday, was spent as usual in attending
Sabbath-schools. I spoke in two of them, and in one meeting. At night I
was at Camp Lee Orphanage with Annie Gibbons, the matron, who had an
interesting group of little folks. As they gathered around the table,
at the tap of the bell, with clasped hands and closed eyes, they
repeated the verse:
"Lord, teach a little child to pray,
Thy grace to me impart," etc.
I met a colored man from Raleigh, North Carolina, who gave a few items
of Andrew Johnson's early history, in regard to his apprenticeship in
tailoring. If there was a dance within reach, black or white, it was
all the same to "Andy,"--he was sure to be there. His boss, Mr. Selby,
lectured him about his late hours, and to evade these lectures he often
"turned in" with Handy Luckett, a steady old slave man, whose bed was
in the loft of J. O. Rork's carriage house.
At a shoe-shop, I met John Blevins, a noble appearing John Brown sort
of man whose sentence was forty years in the Virginia Penitentiary in
Richmond. His crime was, aiding slaves to their God-given rights. He
had served sixteen years when Richmond was taken. The Union soldiers
opened the prison door, and John Blevins, with four hundred other
prisoners, walked out free men. His intelligence speaks of better days.
He is sixty years of age, and hard treatment had added ten years to his
appearance. During the first few years of his prison life he could tell
when a master had lost his slaves, as they would then place him in the
dungeon, where he was kept for weeks at a time, to compel him to give
the names of other abolitionists, but they never succeeded. He was at
this time teaching a colored school. Out of school-hours, he worked in
the shoe-shop, and was trying to make enough to purchase for himself a
suit of clothes, when he designed returning to his home in
Philadelphia. He had just heard from a family that he assisted to their
liberty, some of whom had become quite wealthy, and were trying to find
him.
He had written to them and was expecting to receive assistance.
Whenever he went out on the streets he was annoyed by half-grown boys
hooting after him, "Old John Brown, nigger thief." At the time he was
arrested, they took all of his money, amounting to five hundred and
fifty seven dollars.
I visited a Baptist Sabbath-school where three thousand members were
enrolled. Over one thousand five hundred were present. They were
addressed by Professor Johnson, who introduced and invited me to
address the school. They very cautiously discussed the coming holidays,
as they had never held one there on their own account. They decided to
observe Thanksgiving, Christmas, and celebrate the Proclamation of
Freedom on New Year's day. Their minister advised his people to be very
careful in word and deed, so as not to give the least occasion for
misconstruing their motives. Some of the white people said it ought not
to be allowed. They feared an "uprising," but our soldiers said they
should have the privilege.
I visited Howard Grove Hospital, under the charge of Miss Marcia
Colton, matron. She was a missionary among the Choctaw Indians nine
years, and was a noble, self-sacrificing woman. The surgeon of the
hospital was D. R. Browery. I found a little boy of about eight years,
whose mother he said was "done dead." He knew nothing of his father. I
took him to Camp Lee Orphanage. Here and there I find kindred spirits,
but none more devoted to the cause of Christ than sister Marcia Colton.
She gave herself entirely to the advancement of his cause during nine
years of labor among the poor, despised Indians. During the terrible
conflicts of the war she unreservedly gave herself to the suffering and
dying soldier, and she said that when, no longer called for in that
field her life was just as cheerfully given to uplifting the lowly
among the freed slaves of the South.
On visiting the State Penitentiary, the keeper hesitated about allowing
me admittance. Said he: "I am afraid you'll give a bad report of us, as
did Miss Dix, who gave us a bad name, and I thought of her as you
entered my office. You look like her, and I am afraid of you. You know
we don't have our prisons like yours of the North, like grand palaces,
with flower-yards; and I reckon I had better not let you in." I told
him I perceived they were rebuilding the part burned awhile ago, and
would make due allowance for bad house-keeping.
"Well, if you'll do that, I reckon I'll have to risk you, for you'll
see we are whitewashing the old cells and other parts of the prison,
and then you must make allowance for its age. It was built in 1800, and
is the first penitentiary in the world, and you Northerners have had
all these sixty-five years to improve in, and then your gardens about
your prisons are all so grand that I am a little afraid of your report.
But, steward, you may take her through, and well see what she'll do for
us."
I discovered a contrast, it is true. But, as in other places in the
South, they seem a century behind the times. I found here, as in our
State prisons, a majority of the convicts were left orphans in
childhood. The number of inmates was at that time two hundred and
twenty-four. I called on the general in command to inquire for Oliver
Williams, whose wife requested me to see if I could find him. She was
in Washington, D. C., and had not heard from him for a long while. I
found he had been sentenced to three months imprisonment to hard labor,
with ball and chain, but the time had now expired. The general referred
me to Fortress Monroe, as the military prisoners had been removed to
that prison. He advised me to call on Governor Pierpont, who gave the
same reference, and gave me some interesting items concerning this
State. He said that, but for slavery, Virginia would have been one of
the richest States in the Union in mines. Colored men were then making
a dollar a day in gathering gold dust without the facilities of
enterprising men with capital. There were also silver, copper, nickel,
and a fine quality of kaolin or porcelain clay. He exhibited a specimen
of each metal, and two bowls made of the native kaolin, a very fine
material. To show the absorbing interest in slave-dealing he gave the
figures of income, as shown during the discussions in their State
Convention in 1861. The _Metropolitan Press_ reported that "the income
from slaves for the last twenty years amounted to twenty millions of
dollars annually, and from all other products eight million dollars
annually." This Governor Pierpont believed to be a true estimate.
I called at Sarah E. Smiley's Teachers' Home. Here I found Rachel
Snell, daughter of Richard Snell of Lockport, New York, my old
childhood home. With this group of kindred spirits I spent a refreshing
season during a hard rain.
New Year's Day, 1866, was long dreaded by a large majority of the white
citizens of Richmond. Great excitement prevailed over its celebration
by the colored people. Soldiers were seen in every direction. A few
companies of colored men went on the common to organize for the day's
procession. The citizens were excited over that, and said they were
preparing for "insurrection." They had permission from the governor to
form in front of the State House. In the park were rustic seats of
ancient style, chipped off and notched here and there, yet a colored
person had never been allowed inside unless as the body servant of his
master. But now their banners of various devices were floating,
interspersed with United States flags. Each society had its motto, such
as, "Peace, Liberty, and Freedom with all Mankind;" "Union, Liberty's
Protecting Society;" "Peace, Good Will to all Mankind;" "In Union there
is Strength;" "In God we Trust." On a blue satin banner were initials
of a Benevolent Protective Association. The religious exercises were
opened in the morning by reading the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy and
singing an appropriate hymn. The text of the minister's discourse was a
part of the second verse, "And thou shalt remember all the way which
the Lord thy God led thee forty years in the wilderness." The minister
could read quite well, though his life had been spent in slavery. He
presented the past and present prospects of his people in a clear and
affecting manner, and the necessity of remembering the past, to be
fully prepared to praise God for the precious boon of freedom he had
bestowed upon their race. There were four very large congregations
opened this morning in a similar manner, and songs of praise were heard
from the marching multitudes wending their way to the State House Park.
There was shooting from a hotel window. Two of the suspected men were
taken to Libby Prison. With the soldiers on the alert, and an increased
force of policemen, they had no further trouble.
At the meeting of fifteen thousand or more in the park good order
prevailed. I passed along through the moving masses, a silent listener
to many outburstings of joy, contrasting with past sorrows--a great
change indeed. Editor Hunnicutt, of the _New Nation_, was called upon
to make a speech, and he exhorted them to cultivate industry, honesty,
and virtue. He was followed by a number of others. At three o'clock the
crowds began to disperse, so as to reach their homes before nightfall.
It is passing strange why the white people here were so much excited
over this celebration. There were two colored Baptist Churches burned
two nights before, and on the night previous threats were made that all
who took part In the celebration would lose their places of business.
The Episcopalian rector came after ten P. M. the same night to advise
the two teachers, Mrs. Starky and Miss Hicks, to continue their school,
and persuade the scholars to remain, and take no part in it themselves
whatever, as the white people said this rejoicing was over the fall of
Richmond and the downfall of the Confederacy. This idea was dwelt upon
to such an extent that the Committee of Arrangements printed circulars
and scattered through town during the week previous, stating their
object in full, "that it was only to celebrate the day that God gave
freedom to their race, and nothing more." But _"insurrection,"_
"_uprising_ among the negroes," had been household words since the days
of Nat Turner. The rebel flag was carried past Sarah E. Smiley's
Mission Home for Teachers twice that day. Had the fact been reported at
head-quarters, the bearers would have found themselves in the military
prison.
As the army was being disbanded, and rations curtailed, and the
suffering for want of them equaled that for clothing, I was informed by
the general in command that there were more calls for rations by white
than the colored people since the fall of Richmond. Said he: "I will
mention a few to show the importance of investigation. Daniel Lacy had
nine houses and servants and applied for and drew rations for his whole
family. John Kimbo had servants out at work and drew rations for all
his family, and had a number of houses. Mrs. Mary Ann Moseby had a
grocery store well supplied, and drew rations and sold them. Mrs.
Elizabeth Hunt also kept a full grocery, and drew rations to sell. Mrs.
Sophia Coach, whose husband was a plasterer, drew rations. Mrs. Miller
represented herself as a widow, and drew rations all the season, but I
found out that she had a husband at home all this time. Mrs. Houston
had a husband, but represented herself a widow, and drew rations and
wood, as did all the others. The whole of two blocks drew rations, and
most of them wood. Joseph Mayo, who is mayor of the city, and was when
it fell into Union hands, drew rations, and owns a number of houses,
and has servants. Ten years ago his slave Margaret's babe died with the
croup, and he charged her with choking it to death, and had her hung on
the scaffold after being whipped almost to death. He sent one of his
slave women to the penitentiary six months ago, for a trivial offense.
I heard by one of her friends, that she said it was a relief, for she
was treated better there than at her master's. She is so rejoiced to
learn that when she comes out she will be a free woman, and never again
be compelled to serve that cruel master. But what contrasts we find
here in both races! I have never found as much lying,
misrepresentation, and cheating, among the negroes as among the white
people, in my experience in this four years of war. Our records show
more rations, wood, and coal issued to the whites than to the blacks in
the State of Virginia."
I was careful to take down these items, in writing, as he gave them, in
his office. O, what changes, what reverses, were here experienced. A.
R. Brooks, who bought himself fourteen years ago, was now a wealthy
man, owned ten horses, and six fine hacks and carriages, and his former
master, by the fall of the Confederate government, was reduced almost
to beggary. A few months ago he sold his plantation of three thousand
acres for Confederate money, and is now penniless. Last February his
wife died, and his former slave, A. R. Brooks, bore the entire expense
of her burial. He said he praised the Lord for giving him the ability
to do it. But how greatly was that wealthy planter, Henry A. Winfy, now
changed in his prospects, when, a few months before, he considered
himself the owner of three thousand acres, "well stocked" with slaves
to work it.
With every day come new scenes, and yet such a similarity;
investigating, relieving, reading Scriptures, advising, and often by
the cot of the sick and dying. I often felt myself a stranger in a
strange land, and yet I was never alone. Although, boisterous waves
dashed around me, yet the dear Savior was near at hand.
I learned of much suffering on the Peninsula, and decided to take the
rest of my supplies down the James River to Williamsburg. While
arranging my packages for leaving Libby, a multitude of people were
thronging the street near the prison. I inquired for the cause of this
excitement, and was informed that a Union soldier was about to be
executed for murdering a man for his money, horse, and buggy. As he was
led out of prison upon the scaffold I hurried away, trembling with the
terrible thought that a young life was about to be taken. As it was
impossible for me to speak to him I hastened to escape the sound of the
drop, but did not succeed. The horrors of war no pen can describe, no
tongue can utter, no pencil can paint. The demoralizing influence over
the soldier is dreadful. No doubt desertion was this fellow's aim, and,
to serve his purpose, he fell into this strong temptation and crime.
Desertion cost the life of one whom I saw in Mississippi sitting on a
white-pine coffin and followed by his armed comrades, who were soon to
take his life. It was then as now, too late to speak a word to that
soldier-boy. And I hastened to outdistance the report of the guns that
took his life. But I failed, as in the present sad event.
I called on a number of friends and co-laborers in Richmond; for here,
as in every place, I have found kindred spirits. I spent the night with
dear sisters in Christ, who labored in his vineyard to uplift the
lowly. Scripture reading and prayer closed this eventful day.
On March 3d, at six o'clock A. M., I left Richmond and took the steamer
_Martin_ at the Rockets, followed by my friend, Mrs. Morris, with a
basket of fresh cakes, apples, oranges, and a bottle of wine. I asked
her to excuse me for objecting to the bottle of wine, as I never drank
it.
"O, indeed, you must take it; your royal highness may be ill, and you
may find it quite proper to take a little wine for your 'stomach's
sake.' Don't, my dear madam, refuse your most humble servant the
privilege of presenting this basket and its contents, wine and all, to
my royal madam."
And I saw by the starting tear that she would feel quite hurt if I
refused her, and accepted her gift.
As we steamed down the river I saw many little hillocks where were
buried the fallen soldiers who left their northern homes with high
hopes of saving the nation's life from the hand of treason. Here they
fell long before Richmond was taken. We passed Burmuda Hundred and City
Point, upon which stood General Grant's headquarters. Next came
Harrison's Landing, near President Harrison's birth-place, an ancient
appearing building situated upon a high bluff.
At Wilson's Landing and Clarmount Landing there was a high bank, upon
which lived one of the wealthiest men in the State of Virginia, William
Allen, who adopted the name of his father-in-law for the sake of his
immense wealth. William Allen, sen., had no son, but an only daughter,
and he offered his entire estate to any young man whom his daughter
might be pleased to accept, if he would assume his name; he cared not
how poor he might be, if he was only respectable. The daughter had many
suitors, but at length a young man won this bride and adopted the whole
name--William Allen. At the death of the father-in-law he came into
possession of thirteen plantations and over four thousand slaves. All
these plantations were managed by overseers. One man told me he had
seen him take a keg of gold and silver coins down to the sand-bank,
with a company of his comrades, on a holiday spree, and when they were
all thoroughly drunk he would take up a handful of gold and silver
pieces, throw them in the sand, and tell them to scramble, and he that
got the most was the best fellow. He, with the rest, "scrambled," as he
called it. William Allen declared that the Yankees had robbed him of
fifty thousand dollars worth of negroes under ten years of age, and
more than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves above
that age.
At twelve o'clock we landed at Jamestown. In this old, dilapidated
place were yet standing brick walls of three old buildings open to the
birds and the bats. The brick of these half-torn down buildings were
transported from England more than two hundred years ago. I saw a piece
of a marble slab from the graveyard dated 1626, broken in pieces by
soldiers for relics. We were soon met by the ambulance-driver, and he
took us through a nice field of wheat owned by William Allen, just
referred to, who was one of our passengers to the ancient city of
Williamsburg. Here was a large insane asylum, built of imported bricks
from England, with a marble front, erected, by Lord Bottetourt,
governor of the colony. It was founded in 1688. The tower was
ninety-six feet high, and the number of inmates one hundred and one,
forty-two of whom were colored. Robert M. Garrett was the physician and
superintendent. This is the oldest institution of the kind in the
Union. In the front yard of this asylum stands, in life-size, the
statue of Lord Bottetourt. As we were passing through the apartments we
listened to a very sweet voice singing a hymn. Said my guide, "Mr.
Scott is singing for you. He is General Winfield Scott's nephew. He bet
both of his plantations that the Confederates would succeed in this
war, and when Richmond fell he became insane and was brought here two
weeks ago."
I was shown an old brick church in which was a colored school of one
hundred and ninety-six scholars, taught by Miss Barton, of Connecticut,
and a gentleman from Michigan. Here I found myself at home at once.
There were here, previous to the late war, two institutions of
learning--the William and Mary College at one end of the main street,
and at the other, three and a quarter miles distant, the female
seminary. The college was burned in the war of 1776, again in the war
of 1812, and, for the third time, a few months before I was there.
There was no school now in the female seminary, and it looked as if
waiting for repairs. Here is the old ivy-bound church in which George
Washington was married. The bricks of this building were also brought
from England. This town was the capital of tins State previous to its
removal to Richmond.
I walked nearly two miles to Fort Magruder, where I found a colored
school of one hundred and fifty-eight members, taught by Maggie Thorpe
and Martha Haines, of New York, under the auspices of the Society of
Friends. To accommodate men and women who could not leave their work
during the day they opened a night school, and had fifty of that class.
Half of these did not know their letters when their school opened in
February, and could then read quite fluently in the second and third
readers. A few miles further there was another school of thirty
scholars who had made commendable progress.
The teachers informed me that there were many very old people on the
oldest plantation near King's Mill, who needed help. I was furnished
with an ambulance, in which I took a bale of bedding and clothing, and
went from cabin to cabin to visit twenty-seven aged people, from sixty
to a hundred and five years of age. After learning their most urgent
needs, I selected supplies for each. When I expressed my surprise at
seeing the old plantation with such a grove of woods, Uncle Bob Jones,
the oldest of them all, said:
"Missus, all dat woods on dat side I helped clar off when firs' woods
was thar, beech, maple an' linn wood, only now an' agin a pine. Den we
work it till it wore out, an' wouldn't noffin grow on it, an' we lef it
to grow up to dose pines you see."
"Is this possible?" I said. "I saw men chopping sawmill logs as I came
through that wood."
"Yes, missus," he answered; "shure's you are bo'n, my sweat lies dar
under dem big tree roots. My Milla an' me was married when we's
chillen, an' we's had a good many chillen, but de Lo'd knows whar da's
gone to; da sole down de riber, many, many year ago. But we prayed to
Lo'd Jesus to take keer on 'em all dese years, an' we'll go home to
glory soon."
In answer to my query as to his age, he said:
"Massa Moses' book say I's a hundred an' five, an' my Milla's a hundred
an' three. I might slip count a year or two, but I reckon not."
I never before met one couple living to this advanced age. I gave them
the best new quilt I had, made by a class of Sabbath-school girls, from
eight to fifteen years of age, in Wayne County, Michigan. The names of
the little girls were written on the blocks they pieced. The old man
was quite blind, but he felt of it; then he exclaimed:
"Missus, did you say little white gals made this? Lo'd bless the little
angels! Honey, look at dis; we's neber had sich a nice bed-kiver in all
our lives."
To this she assented:
"I see it's a beauty; we's neber had sich a kiver afore, missus; tell
de sweet little angels we'll pray for 'em as long as we live."
"Yes, tell 'em we won't stop prayin' for 'em when we gits up yonder, in
de mansions," rejoined the old man.
It seemed to them wonderful that white girls should make such a nice
quilt for black folks, and they were in an ecstasy over the surprise.
Aunt Milla could see to do considerable work in their little garden
patch, that some of the younger men among them had spaded for her.
Every thing about their little cabin was neat and clean, and their
clothes were well patched. Uncle Bob had been off this plantation but
twice in his life; then he went to Williamsburg. It was affecting to
see these old, worn-out slaves rejoicing over freedom, but it seemed to
be more on account of their children and of their race. They had passed
through many hard trial but their faith was strong that they were soon
going to rest with Jesus.
A colored man brought two cripples to me, in his cart, for relief and
their wants were supplied. He said he wished I could see two old men
who were living in the mill. One of them was an old soldier in the
Jackson war. My ambulance friend took me to the old brick mill that was
the first one built in that country, they said more than a hundred and
fifty years ago. The roof was covered with thick moss. The cedar
shingles, as well as bricks, were brought from England.
I found here an intelligent mulatto man of about sixty years who had
had a fever sore a little above the ankle a number of years. He was the
eldest of twenty seven children. His mother had thirteen pairs of twins
and he the only single child, and they were all sold to slave-dealers
of the lower States.
"When my mother died in the cold cellar' he told me 'I begged to see
her but my old master said he would shoot me if I dared to set foot on
his plantation case I'd been with Yankees and she died one year ago
without a child to give her a sip of water. My wife and seven children
belong to another man who said he would shoot my brains out if I dared
to come on his plantation. But I pray God to help my wife to go to the
soldiers before they are all gone and get them to help her to come to
me with our children. I was one of the slaves that master promised
freedom, at the close of General Jackson's war and the general promised
us ten dollars a month besides during service which was one year and
eight mouths. There were five regiments of colored men. Some got their
freedom as promised but my master and many others were more severe than
ever. On my return home I reminded my master of the promise of freedom
by him and General Jackson but I found it unsafe to say any thing more
about it. We thought General Jackson ought to have seen the promise
made good, as long as he promised freedom as well as our masters. He
gave us credit for being among the best soldiers he had. But we never
would have fought as we did had it not been for freedom ahead. We
pledged ourselves to each other, that we never would fight for white
folks again, unless we knew our freedom was sure. And never would our
people have gone into this war had it not been for the Proclamation of
Emancipation from the President of the whole United States."
This man was the most intelligent and used the best language of any
colored person of his age I met in this portion of Virginia. His
mother's name was Maria Sampson. She lived and died in King William
County, Virginia. There were twenty sons and seven daughters of her
own. Yet, through wicked enactments, her master tore from her every
one, and claimed her own body besides, as a valuable piece of property.
My next visit was to an old brick kitchen. In the "loft," lived two
aged sisters of seventy-five and eighty years, whose youngest brother,
of about sixty years, was insane. His sisters said about twenty years
ago he "lost his mind." His wife and children were all sold from him
down the river, and he grieved so long over it, he lost his mind, and
never came right since. As I entered, I took him by the hand and
inquired for the aged women in that house; he pointed to the stairway.
As I was going up the stairs, he danced to and fro, slapping his hands,
"Glory, hallelujah to the Lamb!" I paused to look at him. His sisters
met me at the head of the stairs, and said, "Don't mind him, he has no
mind, and is rejoicin' to see a white woman come up these stairs, for
it's a new thing. I reckon there hain't been a white woman up here
more'n twenty year, an' he don't know how to tell his gladness.". They
said he was good to bring them wood and water, and take care of himself
in washing and patching his own clothes. I presented him a suit, and
when he found they would fit him, the dancing and singing were resumed.
I should judge from the history his sisters gave of him, and from his
high forehead, that he had been a man of more than ordinary talent.
These sisters, too, had been made widows and childless by slavery's
cruel hand. This I found to be the hard lot of all these old people.
They told me of many cruel over-seers, that would take the life of a
slave, to get their names up as "boss overseers." I told them I had
heard of instances where an overseer was missing occasionally. One old
man dropped his head, then looking up said, in a hesitating manner,
"I's knowed that in my time, but massar keep it mighty still, an' say
de overseer runned away, an' he git one right soon agin." I talked and
read, and offered prayer with these stripped and lonely ones.
During my three weeks' stay in Williamsburg, Fort Magruder, and
vicinity, I had a number of meetings with these newly freed slaves,
three of them in those old slave-pens in which were large schools
taught.
I took a stroll through the old graveyard which surrounded the old
ivy-covered church. The marble slabs were mostly in a horizontal
position, with quaint inscriptions. In these J, or I, was often found
in place of the figure 1. The spelling, too, we should call badly
warped. I copied a few of the epitaphs, as follows:
Here lyes the Body of Mr John Collett, who departed this life
February 24th, 1794, aged 52 years
Sacred to the memory of James Nicholson, late stuard of William and
Mary College. Was born in the Town of Invenck, North Britton, ano
1711, died the 22nd of January, 1773. Frugality--industry, and
simplicity of manners and independence of Soul Adorned his character
and procured universal esteem.
READER,
Learn from this example as the most exalted Station may be
debased by vice, so there is no situation in life on which virtue will
not confer DIGNITY.
Mrs. Catharine Stephenson died April 22; born in Nottinghamshire,
1778.
Her body now slumbers along with the dead;
Her Savior hath called, to him she has gone,
Be ye also ready to follow her soon.
Under this marble lieth the body of Thomas Ludwell, Esq., Secretary of
Virginia, who was born at Britton in of Summerset in the kingdom of
England, and departed this life in the year 1678; and near this place
lye the bodies of Richard Kerdp, Esq, his predecessor in ye
Secretary's office and Sr.
Thomas Lunsford, Kt., in memory of whom this marble is placed by order
of Philip Ludwell, Esq., nephew of the said Thomas Ludwell, in the
year 1727.
As Yorktown was an important post, after three weeks' work in this
section, I repaired to that ancient place. There I found two large
camps. A few large freedmen's schools were established under the
auspices of Philadelphia Friends, and of these Jacob Vining had
supervision. Two others were under the supervision of the American
Missionary Association. Both were doing a noble work for these people,
who were like hungry children, grasping at the food handed them by
these Christian teachers.
We had a very large meeting in the old barracks fitted up for school
and meetings. There were more than could get inside, and groups stood
at the door and outside the windows. Here I met two young men who had
walked all the way from beyond Fort Magruder, eighteen miles, to attend
this meeting. They were more intelligent than the larger portion of
life-long slaves. They were encouraged in the future prospect of
freedom. They said the white people declared they would soon have all
their slaves back again, the same as they had before the war. Said one,
"They talk it so strong it makes us trimble. For we-uns think they'd be
harder on us than ever." I told them to look at that strong fort built
by Confederates, which they had said "all the Yankees of the North
could never take." "And where is it now?" I said. "You may rest assured
it will be as I repeated to-day, 'Except the Lord keep the city the
watchman walketh but in vain; except the Lord build the house they
labor in vain who build it.' The Lord will never permit the house of
bondage to be rebuilt, for the cup of our nation's wickedness has been
filled to the brim. They will never again barter for paltry gold the
bodies and souls of those whom Christ died to redeem with his own
precious blood. No, never." They wept, while talking over the past,
with new hopes before them of their future. They said they were well
paid for their long walk, though they should work the next day with
blistered feet. They were working for their old owner, as he had
promised to pay them. They had sometimes felt fearful as to the final
result of this war. If there were doubts, they would go as far North as
they could while they were enjoying their present liberty.
A number lingered to talk with me on the prospect of freedom or slavery
for them, telling me of the positive expressions of their former
masters, and of their threats of having them all back again within a
few months. They wanted to know what the prospect was in Washington.
"Do you think we are sure to come out of the wilderness?" said one.
"Will this sun of freedom, now peepin' troo de black cloud, come cl'ar
out, an' make a bright day?" said another.
I found many of these people in trouble, because they saw plainly the
old slave spirit reviving, and they were trembling with fear; but
others had stronger faith. There was one poor woman, whose husband and
four children were sold to a trader, to be taken down the river in a
gang. When the news came to her master's home that Richmond had fallen,
she said:
"Missus an' all was cryin', and say da catch Jeff. Davis. An' I hurried
de supper on de table; an' I say, Missus, can Dilla wait on table till
I go to de bush-spring an' git a bucket o' cool water?' She say,
'Hurry, Mill; an' I seed 'em all down to table afore I starts. Den I
walks slow till I git out o' sight, when I runn'd wid all my might till
I git to de spring, an' look all 'round, an' I jump up an' scream,
'Glory, glory, hallelujah to Jesus! I's free! I's free! Glory to God,
you come down an' free us; no big man could do it.' An' I got sort o'
scared, afeared somebody hear me, an' I takes another good look, an'
fall on de groun', an' roll over, an' kiss de groun' fo' de Lord's
sake, I's so full o' praise to Massar Jesus. He do all dis great work.
De soul buyers can neber take my two chillen lef' me; no, neber can
take 'em from me no mo';" and the tears fell thick and fast as she told
me how she clung to her husband, then to her children, as the trader
took them to the slave-pen to lock up till they were ready to start for
the river. Her mistress ordered her to be whipped because she cried so
long for her husband and children. I did not wonder at her ecstasy.
A poor old slave, called Aunt Sally, came to me April 15th; crippled
with rheumatism, and walking as well as she could with two canes. She
asked for a blanket or quilt, saying that one old blanket had been her
only bed for seven years. I told her I should pass her home the next
day, and would bring her some things. She said, "I mus' hurry back, or
missus will fin' me out. You gib 'em to the man choppin' wood in de
yard; he'll put 'em in de cellar for me. Missus is mighty hard on you
alls;" and she hobbled back as fast as she could with two canes. But
her mistress found out that she had been to see me, and told her she
should never set her foot inside her yard again, neither should a
Yankee. The day following I took a package for Aunt Sally, containing a
straw bed-tick, quilt, blanket, and a good suit of clothes; for I had
learned that Mrs. Pendleton, the daughter of ex-President Taylor, was a
hard mistress. Aunt Sally had served her father, and helped bring up
his children, and was now seventy-five or eighty years old. From the
cold, damp cellar, with only one blanket to cover her, she had become
badly crippled, and was left to die, like an old worn-out horse.
The colored man near the fence of the back yard told me I would find
Aunt Sally in a little cabin he pointed out, with two old colored
people. I found her crying. She said her mistress had turned her out,
and told her she should never come inside her yard, nor eat a kernel of
the corn that she had planted in ground all spaded by herself, and it
was growing so nice. The old people very kindly offered to share with
her. He was a cobbler, and made all he could, but he said they had but
one bed. I furnished one for her, and gave the old people a quilt and a
few needed garments for their kindness to Aunt Sally. They, too, had
been stripped of all their large family, as well as Aunt Sally of hers.
As I passed Mrs. Pendleton's front yard I saw a large bloodhound on the
door-step as sentinel. Even a look at him from the street brought a
threatening growl.
Here, too, were William and Phillis Davis, over eighty years of age,
they think. They had fourteen children, "all sold down the river," they
said, "except those we's got in heaven. We's glad they's safe, an' we
trus' de jubilee trumpet will retch their ears, way down Souf, we don't
know whar. We's cried for freedom many years, an' it come at last,"
said the old, tottering man.
Eva Mercer, over seventy five years of age, had a large family. Her
husband and all her children were sold twenty years ago. She has been
left to perish alone, and had had no underclothes for seven years. She
was supplied, and made more comfortable than she had been for years.
David Cary, one hundred years old, in great suffering, was relieved.
He, too, had a large family. Three wives were sold from him, and his
children, one, two, and three at a time, were sent down the river,
never to be heard from again. He said he forgot a great many things
every day, "but I can never forget the grief I passed through in
parting with my good wives and chillens."
Pross Tabb, ninety years old, was turned out of his cabin, and came to
the captain crying. He said, "Massar Tabb turn me out to die by de
roadside. I begged him to let me build me a cabin in de woods, and he
say if I cut a stick in his woods he'll shoot me." The captain informed
J. P. Tabb that he would violate the martial law, and be fined and
imprisoned, if he turned that old man out of his cabin, where he had
lived and served him many years. The poor lone man was permitted to
remain. J. P. Tabb owned twelve thousand acres of land, and had called
himself master of one hundred and sixty slaves; now all had left him.
Sunday, May 3d, was a beautiful Sabbath. In the morning I attended
service at the school-house, conducted by a Baptist minister, who
examined nine new converts. Among them was a little girl, Susan Monroe,
eight years old. The preacher asked her, "What have you got to say
'bout Jesus, sis?"
"He tuck de han' cuffs off my han's," she replied, "an' de spancels off
my feet, an' Jesus made me free."
With a few other satisfactory answers he passed to the next, a man of
forty, perhaps: "And what have you to tell us?"
"It 'peared," he said, "like I's so heavy here, on my heart. I could do
nuffin but groan, 'Massar Jesus have pity on poor me;' an' as I was a
walkin' 'long de road, he cum sure, an' poured hisself all over me, an'
cover over my han's an' my feet, an' made me all over new. I say is dis
me? Glory, hallalujah! dis is me. I went on an' met sis Molly. 'What's
de matter o' me? it's all full tide here,' I says. 'Why honey,' she
answered, 'you's got 'ligion; praise de Lord! Now keep de pure stuff,
don't trade it off for de devil.' An' by de help o' de Lord, I don't do
any sich tradin'."
The next was queried. "Ah, I's played de fool," he said, "in jist dat
kind o' tradin'. I's an ole backslider. Ole Satan had me, sure, an' I
cried, 'Massar Jesus, save me from dat horrible pit,' an' he fotch me
out, an' put dese feet on de rock, and here I means to stan'."
Others were examined, and a season of prayer followed. Their prayers
were marked for their originality and earnestness. Said one woman, "Oh
Lord, do please hitch up your cheer a little nearer your winder--draw
aside your curtain, an' look down 'pon us poor creturs, an' gib your
table-cloth a good shake, dat we may pick up a few crumbs."
There were many of these much more intelligent than I supposed I should
find them, and used as good language as the white people.
House-servants and body-servants were more intelligent than those who
lived only in the field. They were very imaginative, and talked with
God. One woman in giving a sketch of slave life, said a young girl went
to a night meeting contrary to orders, and for so doing was stripped
naked and whipped in the presence of the other slaves, the master
himself plying the lash. While she cried for mercy her master replied,
"I'll give you mercy." "Good Lord do come and help me." "Yes, I'll help
you" (and kept plying the lash). "Do, Lord, come now; if you ha'n't
time send Jesus." "Yes, I'm your Jesus," retorted the inhuman
persecutor, and he continued to ply the lash until thirty strokes were
well laid on.
The colonel commanding this post called on me with a request to go to
Gloucester Court-house, to look after the condition of the freedmen
there. There were several very old, crippled people in Gloucester, in
almost a nude condition. I agreed to go, and the colonel went to
procure a buggy, as his own was broken; but he failed to get one,
though more than a double price was offered, because he was a Yankee.
He returned discouraged, as he was unwilling to send me in a Virginia
cart, the only government conveyance. I told him I had frequently seen
the wealthiest ladies sitting on straw, with no other seat in the cart.
"O yes," he answered, "the F. F. V.'s ride in that way here. But you
look too much like my mother to see you go in that style. I could not
bear to have your children in Michigan know that I sent their mother
out to ride thirty miles in that way;" and tears filled his eyes, as he
referred to his own mother in his far off Northern home. I told him if
I could accomplish any good by going, I was more than willing to take
the cart-ride, as I could make a seat with my bale of clothing, and
thus I went.
I crossed York River at Gloucester Point, and stepped into a store to
wait for our soldier driver. Here a Southern brigadier-general
addressed me in the following style:
"I reckon you are from the North, madam."
"I am from the State of Michigan," I said, "but more directly from
Washington."
"You Northern people can not be satisfied with robbing us of millions
of dollars in slaves, that were just as much our property as your
horses and cattle, but you stole our sheep and horses, or any thing
else you could get hands on; and yet that was not enough. Now you have
a bill in Congress to rob us of our land, and of course it will pass.
Then we'll go to work and mix up a little cake to bake for our
families, and you'll come and snatch even that away from us."
"You probably refer," I said, "to the bill just introduced, to allow
the _leaders_ in this Rebellion no more than twenty thousand dollars'
worth of real estate, confiscating the balance, to sell in parcels to
the soldiers and poor people, black or white, on liberal terms, to
liquidate the _war debt_. This debt would never have been contracted,
had not the South brought on the war. You fired upon Sumter; you
determined to sever the Union. It was a bargain of your own making. You
determined to make slavery the chief corner stone of the Republic, but
another stone, _Liberty_, has ground it to powder. We had better accept
the situation as we find it, and not call each other thieves and
robbers because your chief corner-stone is no more. God never designed
that we should make merchandise of human beings. In the written Word we
find that God made of one blood all the nations of the earth. We find
there no lines of distinction because of color or condition. Now let us
drop slavery and hold it no longer as the bone of contention, and live
henceforward a united nation."
With flushed face and flashing eyes he said, "_Never_, NEVER shall we
give up our rights. We acknowledge you have overpowered us, but you
have not, and _never will_, conquer us; we shall yet in some way secure
our _rights_ as Southerners, notwithstanding all your Northern
preaching."
"If you carry out your position," I rejoined, "you will unite with some
foreign power to break up our government, or to grind its republican
form into powder and scatter it to the four winds."
"Of course we should, and you can't blame us for doing that. It is just
exactly what we shall do if we have the chance."
After a few minutes unpleasant talk of this sort our soldier drove in
front of the door for me. We borrowed a little box, upon which a coffee
sack of clothing was laid, and we thus made a comparatively comfortable
seat.
We reached Gloucester, and, on May 10th, went to the office of Captain
McConnell. He was engaged all the morning in hearing complaints on the
part of the freedmen and in adjusting their wrongs. Some of them were
pitiable cases of outrage, but we can not report them here. There were
eight difficulties settled within the few hours that I remained in the
office. I resumed visiting and supplying the wants of the destitute as
far as my means would allow. There were some old and crippled people
here in the same condition as those whom I had relieved in other places
in this part of the State. As usual, I took with me my Bible, for these
colored people had none, because they had never been permitted to learn
to read. Many of them gave thrilling sketches of their experiences in
slave-life.
On May 13th, at four o'clock P. M., I found myself back at Old
Yorktown. Here I visited the cave in which General Cornwallis was
found. The old wood house in which the treaty was signed is covered
with thick moss. A two-story brick building was Washington's
head-quarters after he took possession of Yorktown. It was also the
head-quarters of the Union generals after it fell into their hands.
Here was the stamping-ground of two great armies. The contention was
not now with British red-coats, as in the Revolution, but with our
brethren in gray. Richard Lee, an ex-slave-holder, undertook to whip a
colored man with the help of his overseer, after the old style, but in
the struggle he found himself cut in two or three places, and the blood
was flowing pretty freely from the overseer. The colored man told them
whipping days were past, and he came out of the affray with but few
scratches. His offense was refusing to work on Sunday afternoon. They
entered no complaint at the office of the Freedmen's Bureau, and the
colored man went about his business unmolested.
After taking leave of many dear friends at this place, through the
kindness of sister Ailsgood, the matron of the Teachers' Home, I was
conveyed to the boat in Lieutenant Massy's carriage. We enjoyed a
beautiful run on the Chesapeake. Among our passengers for Norfolk was a
young lady who seemed bright and gay, but had nearly spoiled herself
with affectation. She was going to visit her aunt previous to entering
upon her new duties in teaching a school.
"I never did do any thing of the kind," she told me; "but pa says I
must; now that we have lost all our servants by this awful war. But I
don't know how I'll do. Do you think I can teach a small school?"
Receiving a word of encouragement, she went on:
"I reckon I'll have to try. We've always had a lady preceptress at our
house, besides the nurse, to take care of us."
A few minutes after I saw her weeping bitterly, as if her heart was
nearly broken. Placing my hand upon her shoulder I inquired if she had
heard bad news that was grieving her? She sobbed and sighed with quite
an effort in commanding her feelings to speak.
"No; do you see that man yonder with a light hat on?"
"Yes."
"Well, he winked at me, and I was never so insulted in my life."
And she burst again into tears.
"Don't grieve over that," I said; "I wouldn't look at him."
"But I never was so insulted. I'm so glad my brother ain't here; I tell
you there'd be trouble."
"Never mind; don't notice him."
"Won't you stand by me?"
"Yes; I'll stand here," I answered. And she soon became calm, when I
thought it safe to leave. But a few moments later I saw her weeping as
hard as ever. I went across the cabin to her relief the third time and
inquired, "What is the trouble now?"
"He winked at me again, and I never, never was so insulted. I know if
my brother was here he'd shoot him, for he'd never stand this."
I stood by her this time till I saw her in the ladies' dressing-room,
by her request remaining between her and the object of her fears, who
was at least fifteen feet from us, sitting in the farthest end of the
cabin. After she had washed and combed her hair she asked, "How does my
hair look? I never combed my hair myself. Our nurse did that always,
until six months ago our last servant left us, I don't know if it looks
well anyhow, for I don't know how to dress it. And do my eyes look as
if I'd been crying?"
"Not to be noticed," I said. "You look all right."
"Will you see if that fellow has gone out?"
On the report that he had left she returned. I inquired if she was
alone.
"O, no, not entirely; pa put me under the care of a splendid man; I
reckon he's on deck; O, he's such a beautiful gentleman; he was pa's
overseer a good many years; pa thought he couldn't carry on our
plantation without him; when I see him I'll be all right. I reckon
you've heard of my pa. Everybody knows him--Mr. Hampton--in Gloucester
County, one of the most splendid counties in the State. Were you ever
in Gloucester County?"
"I was there last week," I answered.
"Isn't it the most beautiful county you ever saw?"
I replied, "Nature has done enough to make it so."
"It was a grand county before the war," she said. "Everybody thinks
it's the best county in the State of Virginia."
But my opinion widely differed from hers. It seemed to me one of the
darkest and most God-forsaken corners of the earth. But the influence
of slavery had its deleterious effects upon whites as well as blacks.
Laura Hampton knew nothing of self-reliance. All she knew was to be a
consequential young lady of distinction, full of exalted qualifying
adjectives in the superlative degree. But she was not so much to blame
as her parents for her simpering and tossing the head with overstocked
affectation. She was to be pitied for her unfortunate surroundings. Her
"splendid man," a "beautiful gentleman," was a coarse, burly headed
"Legree" in appearance.
I arrived at Norfolk at four o'clock P. M., and found a pleasant home
at the Tyler House. Here, I met eighteen teachers, with whom I enjoyed
a refreshing prayer-meeting, led by S. J. Whiting, a missionary, who
gave an interesting sketch of his experience in the Meudi Mission in
Africa. I gave an account of the work accomplished through the blessing
of God in the Mississippi Valley, while I was accompanied by my dear
sister Backus, and spoke of trials I had recently passed through. Here
were kindred spirits, with whom we held sweet communion, and with our
Heavenly Father, who is ever near at hand.
While in this part of the State, I saw a white woman who had been
cruelly assaulted and beaten with a raw-hide by her sister and niece
for associating with the teachers of our freedmen's schools. They
thought she had disgraced the family; but she said she would not turn
away from those Christian ladies, however her own kindred might treat
her. O the wrongs and outrages which the spirit of slavery inflicted
not only on the blacks, but also on the white people of the South!