in Antigua and England, alleges that Mary has grossly misrepresented them
in her narrative; and says that she "can vouch for their being the most
benevolent, kind-hearted people that can possibly live." She has declined,
however, to furnish me with any written correction of the
misrepresentations she complains of, although I offered to insert her
testimony in behalf of her friends, if sent to me in time. And having
already kept back the publication a fortnight waiting for communications
of this sort, I will not delay it longer. Those who have withheld their
strictures have only themselves to blame.
Of the general character of Mr. and Mrs. Wood, I would not designedly give
any _unfair_ impression. Without implicitly adopting either the _ex parte_
view of Mary Prince, or the unmeasured encomiums of their friends, I am
willing to believe them to be, on the whole, fair, perhaps favourable,
specimens of colonial character. Let them even be rated, if you will, in
the very highest and most benevolent class of slave-holders; and, laying
everything else entirely out of view, let Mr. Wood's conduct in this
affair be tried exclusively by the facts established beyond dispute, and
by his own statement of the case in his letter to Mr. Taylor. But then, I
ask, if the very _best_ and _mildest_ of your slave-owners can act as Mr.
Wood is proved to have acted, what is to be expected of persons whose
mildness, or equity, or common humanity no one will dare to vouch for? If
such things are done in the green tree, what will be done in the dry?--And
what else then can Colonial Slavery possibly be, even in its best estate,
but a system incurably evil and iniquitous?--I require no other data--I
need add no further comment.]
The case affords a most instructive illustration of the true spirit of the
slave system, and of the pretensions of the slave-holders to assert, not
merely their claims to a "vested right" in the _labour_ of their bondmen,
but to an indefeasible property in them as their "absolute chattels." It
furnishes a striking practical comment on the assertions of the West
Indians that self-interest is a sufficient check to the indulgence of
vindictive feelings in the master; for here is a case where a man (a
_respectable_ and _benevolent_ man as his friends aver,) prefers losing
entirely the full price of the slave, for the mere satisfaction of
preventing a poor black woman from returning home to her husband! If the
pleasure of thwarting the benevolent wishes of the Anti-Slavery Society in
behalf of the deserted negro, be an additional motive with Mr. Wood, it
will not much mend his wretched plea.
* * * * *
I may here add a few words respecting the earlier portion of Mary Prince's
narrative. The facts there stated must necessarily rest entirely,--since
we have no collateral evidence,--upon their intrinsic claims to
probability, and upon the reliance the reader may feel disposed, after
perusing the foregoing pages, to place on her veracity. To my judgment,
the internal evidence of the truth of her narrative appears remarkably
strong. The circumstances are related in a tone of natural sincerity, and
are accompanied in almost every case with characteristic and minute
details, which must, I conceive, carry with them full conviction to every
candid mind that this negro woman has actually seen, felt, and suffered
all that she so impressively describes; and that the picture she has given
of West Indian slavery is not less true than it is revolting.
But there may be some persons into whose hands this tract may fall, so
imperfectly acquainted with the real character of Negro Slavery, as to be
shocked into partial, if not absolute incredulity, by the acts of inhuman
oppression and brutality related of Capt. I---- and his wife, and of Mr.
D----, the salt manufacturer of Turk's Island. Here, at least, such
persons may be disposed to think, there surely must be _some_
exaggeration; the facts are too shocking to be credible. The facts are
indeed shocking, but unhappily not the less credible on that account.
Slavery is a curse to the oppressor scarcely less than to the oppressed:
its natural tendency is to brutalize both. After a residence myself of six
years in a slave colony, I am inclined to doubt whether, as regards its
_demoralizing_ influence, the master is not even a greater object of
compassion than his bondman. Let those who are disposed to doubt the
atrocities related in this narrative, on the testimony of a sufferer,
examine the details of many cases of similar barbarity that have lately
come before the public, on unquestionable evidence. Passing over the
reports of the Fiscal of Berbice,[23] and the Mauritius horrors recently
unveiled,[24] let them consider the case of Mr. and Mrs. Moss, of the
Bahamas, and their slave Kate, so justly denounced by the Secretary for
the Colonies;[25]--the cases of Eleanor Mead,[26]--of Henry
Williams,[27]--and of the Rev. Mr. Bridges and Kitty Hylton,[28] in
Jamaica. These cases alone might suffice to demonstrate the inevitable
tendency of slavery as it exists in our colonies, to brutalize the master
to a truly frightful degree--a degree which would often cast into the
shade even the atrocities related in the narrative of Mary Prince; and
which are sufficient to prove, independently of all other evidence, that
there is nothing in the revolting character of the facts to affect their
credibility; but that on the contrary, similar deeds are at this very time
of frequent occurrence in almost every one of our slave colonies. The
system of coercive labour may vary in different places; it may be more
destructive to human life in the cane culture of Mauritius and Jamaica,
than in the predial and domestic bondage of Bermuda or the Bahamas,--but
the spirit and character of slavery are every where the same, and cannot
fail to produce similar effects. Wherever slavery prevails, there will
inevitably be found cruelty and oppression. Individuals who have preserved
humane, and amiable, and tolerant dispositions towards their black
dependents, may doubtless be found among slave-holders; but even where a
happy instance of this sort occurs, such as Mary's first mistress, the
kind-hearted Mrs. Williams, the favoured condition of the slave is still
as precarious as it is rare: it is every moment at the mercy of events;
and must always be held by a tenure so proverbially uncertain as that of
human prosperity, or human life. Such examples, like a feeble and
flickering streak of light in a gloomy picture, only serve by contrast to
exhibit the depth of the prevailing shades. Like other exceptions, they
only prove the general rule: the unquestionable tendency of the system is
to vitiate the best tempers, and to harden the most feeling hearts. "Never
be kind, nor speak kindly to a slave," said an accomplished English lady
in South Africa to my wife: "I have now," she added, "been for some time a
slave-owner, and have found, from vexatious experience in my own
household, that nothing but harshness and hauteur will do with slaves."
[Footnote 23: See Anti-Slavery Reporter, Nos. 5 and 16.]
[Footnote 24: Ibid, No. 44.]
[Footnote 25: Ibid, No. 47.]
[Footnote 26: Ibid, No. 64, p. 345; No. 71, p. 481.]
[Footnote 27: Ibid, No. 65, p. 356; No. 69, p. 431.]
[Footnote 28: Anti-Slavery Reporter, Nos. 66, 69, and 76.]
I might perhaps not inappropriately illustrate this point more fully by
stating many cases which fell under my own personal observation, or became
known to me through authentic sources, at the Cape of Good Hope--a colony
where slavery assumes, as it is averred, a milder aspect than in any other
dependency of the empire where it exists; and I could shew, from the
judicial records of that colony, received by me within these few weeks,
cases scarcely inferior in barbarity to the worst of those to which I have
just specially referred; but to do so would lead me too far from the
immediate purpose of this pamphlet, and extend it to an inconvenient
length. I shall therefore content myself with quoting a single short
passage from the excellent work of my friend Dr. Walsh, entitled "Notices
of Brazil,"--a work which, besides its other merits, has vividly
illustrated the true spirit of Negro Slavery, as it displays itself not
merely in that country, but wherever it has been permitted to open its
Pandora's box of misery and crime.
Let the reader ponder on the following just remarks, and compare the facts
stated by the Author in illustration of them, with the circumstances
related at pages 6 and 7 of Mary's narrative:--
"If then we put out of the question the injury inflicted on
others, and merely consider the deterioration of feeling and
principle with which it operates on ourselves, ought it not
to be a sufficient, and, indeed, unanswerable argument,
against the permission of Slavery?
"The exemplary manner in which the paternal duties are
performed at home, may mark people as the most fond and
affectionate parents; but let them once go abroad, and come
within the contagion of slavery, and it seems to alter the
very nature of a man; and the father has sold, and still
sells, the mother and his children, with as little
compunction as he would a sow and her litter of pigs; and he
often disposes of them together.
"This deterioration of feeling is conspicuous in many ways
among the Brazilians. They are naturally a people of a
humane and good-natured disposition, and much indisposed to
cruelty or severity of any kind. Indeed, the manner in which
many of them treat their slaves is a proof of this, as it is
really gentle and considerate; but the natural tendency to
cruelty and oppression in the human heart, is continually
evolved by the impunity and uncontrolled licence in which
they are exercised. I never walked through the streets of
Rio, that some house did not present to me the semblance of
a bridewell, where the moans and the cries of the sufferers,
and the sounds of whips and scourges within, announced to me
that corporal punishment was being inflicted. Whenever I
remarked this to a friend, I was always answered that the
refractory nature of the slave rendered it necessary, and no
house could properly be conducted unless it was practised.
But this is certainly not the case; and the chastisement is
constantly applied in the very wantonness of barbarity, and
would not, and dared not, be inflicted on the humblest
wretch in society, if he was not a slave, and so put out of
the pale of pity.
"Immediately joining our house was one occupied by a
mechanic, from which the most dismal cries and moans
constantly proceeded. I entered the shop one day, and found
it was occupied by a saddler, who had two negro boys working
at his business. He was a tawny, cadaverous-looking man,
with a dark aspect; and he had cut from his leather a
scourge like a Russian knout, which he held in his hand, and
was in the act of exercising on one of the naked children in
an inner room: and this was the cause of the moans and cries
we heard every day, and almost all day long.
"In the rear of our house was another, occupied by some
women of bad character, who kept, as usual, several negro
slaves. I was awoke early one morning by dismal cries, and
looking out of the window, I saw in the back yard of the
house, a black girl of about fourteen years old; before her
stood her mistress, a white woman, with a large stick in her
hand. She was undressed except her petticoat and chemise,
which had fallen down and left her shoulders and bosom bare.
Her hair was streaming behind, and every fierce and
malevolent passion was depicted in her face. She too, like
my hostess at Governo [another striking illustration of the
_dehumanizing_ effects of Slavery,] was the very
representation of a fury. She was striking the poor girl,
whom she had driven up into a corner, where she was on her
knees appealing for mercy. She shewed her none, but
continued to strike her on the head and thrust the stick
into her face, till she was herself exhausted, and her poor
victim covered with blood. This scene was renewed every
morning, and the cries and moans of the poor suffering
blacks, announced that they were enduring the penalty of
slavery, in being the objects on which the irritable and
malevolent passions of the whites are allowed to vent
themselves with impunity; nor could I help deeply deploring
that state of society in which the vilest characters in the
community are allowed an almost uncontrolled power of life
and death, over their innocent, and far more estimable
fellow-creatures."--(Notices of Brazil, vol. ii. p.
354-356.)
* * * * *
In conclusion, I may observe that the history of Mary Prince furnishes a
corollary to Lord Stowell's decision in the case of the slave Grace, and
that it is most valuable on this account. Whatever opinions may be held by
some readers on the grave question of immediately abolishing Colonial
Slavery, nothing assuredly can be more repugnant to the feelings of
Englishmen than that the system should be permitted to extend its baneful
influence to this country. Yet such is the case, when the slave landed in
England still only possesses that qualified degree of freedom, that a
change of domicile will determine it. Though born a British subject, and
resident within the shores of England, he is cut off from his dearest
natural rights by the sad alternative of regaining them at the expence of
liberty, and the certainty of severe treatment. It is true that he has the
option of returning; but it is a cruel mockery to call it a voluntary
choice, when upon his return depend his means of subsistence and his
re-union with all that makes life valuable. Here he has tasted "the sweets
of freedom," to quote the words of the unfortunate Mary Prince; but if he
desires to restore himself to his family, or to escape from suffering and
destitution, and the other evils of a climate uncongenial to his
constitution and habits, he must abandon the enjoyment of his
late-acquired liberty, and again subject himself to the arbitrary power of
a vindictive master.
The case of Mary Prince is by no means a singular one; many of the same
kind are daily occurring: and even if the case were singular, it would
still loudly call for the interference of the legislature. In instances of
this kind no injury can possibly be done to the owner by confirming to the
slave his resumption of his natural rights. It is the master's spontaneous
act to bring him to this country; he knows when he brings him that he
divests himself of his property; and it is, in fact, a minor species of
slave trading, when he has thus enfranchised his slave, to _re-capture_
that slave by the necessities of his condition, or by working upon the
better feelings of his heart. Abstractedly from all legal technicalities,
there is no real difference between thus compelling the return of the
enfranchised negro, and trepanning a free native of England by delusive
hopes into perpetual slavery. The most ingenious casuist could not point
out any essential distinction between the two cases. Our boasted liberty
is the dream of imagination, and no longer the characteristic of our
country, if its bulwarks can thus be thrown down by colonial special
pleading. It would well become the character of the present Government to
introduce a Bill into the Legislature making perpetual that freedom which
the slave has acquired by his passage here, and thus to declare, in the
most ample sense of the words, (what indeed we had long fondly believed to
be the fact, though it now appears that we have been mistaken,) THAT
NO SLAVE CAN EXIST WITHIN THE SHORES OF GREAT BRITAIN.
NARRATIVE OF LOUIS ASA-ASA,
A CAPTURED AFRICAN.
The following interesting narrative is a convenient supplement to the
history of Mary Prince. It is given, like hers, as nearly as possible in
the narrator's words, with only so much correction as was necessary to
connect the story, and render it grammatical. The concluding passage in
inverted commas, is entirely his own.
While Mary's narrative shews the disgusting character of colonial slavery,
this little tale explains with equal force the horrors in which it
originates.
It is necessary to explain that Louis came to this country about five
years ago, in a French vessel called the Pearl. She had lost her
reckoning, and was driven by stress of weather into the port of St. Ives,
in Cornwall. Louis and his four companions were brought to London upon a
writ of Habeas Corpus at the instance of Mr. George Stephen; and, after
some trifling opposition on the part of the master of the vessel, were
discharged by Lord Wynford. Two of his unfortunate fellow-sufferers died
of the measles at Hampstead; the other two returned to Sierra Leone; but
poor Louis, when offered the choice of going back to Africa, replied, "Me
no father, no mother now; me stay with you." And here he has ever since
remained; conducting himself in a way to gain the good will and respect of
all who know him. He is remarkably intelligent, understands our language
perfectly, and can read and write well. The last sentences of the
following narrative will seem almost too peculiar to be his own; but it is
not the first time that in conversation with Mr. George Stephen, he has
made similar remarks. On one occasion in particular, he was heard saying
to himself in the kitchen, while sitting by the fire apparently in deep
thought, "Me think,--me think----" A fellow-servant inquired what he
meant; and he added, "Me think what a good thing I came to England! Here,
I know what God is, and read my Bible; in my country they have no God, no
Bible."
How severe and just a reproof to the guilty wretches who visit his country
only with fire and sword! How deserved a censure upon the not less guilty
men, who dare to vindicate the state of slavery, on the lying pretext,
that its victims are of an inferior nature! And scarcely less deserving of
reprobation are those who have it in their power to prevent these crimes,
but who remain inactive from indifference, or are dissuaded from throwing
the shield of British power over the victim of oppression, by the
sophistry, and the clamour, and the avarice of the oppressor. It is the
reproach and the sin of England. May God avert from our country the ruin
which this national guilt deserves!
We lament to add, that the Pearl which brought these negroes to our shore,
was restored to its owners at the instance of the French Government,
instead of being condemned as a prize to Lieut. Rye, who, on his own
responsibility, detained her, with all her manacles and chains and other
detestable proofs of her piratical occupation on board. We trust it is not
yet too late to demand investigation into the reasons for restoring her.
_The Negro Boy's Narrative._
My father's name was Clashoquin; mine is Asa-Asa. He lived in a country
called Bycla, near Egie, a large town. Egie is as large as Brighton; it
was some way from the sea. I had five brothers and sisters. We all lived
together with my father and mother; he kept a horse, and was respectable,
but not one of the great men. My uncle was one of the great men at Egie:
he could make men come and work for him: his name was Otou. He had a great
deal of land and cattle. My father sometimes worked on his own land, and
used to make charcoal. I was too little to work; my eldest brother used to
work on the land; and we were all very happy.
A great many people, whom we called Adinyés, set fire to Egie in the
morning before daybreak; there were some thousands of them. They killed a
great many, and burnt all their houses. They staid two days, and then
carried away all the people whom they did not kill.
They came again every now and then for a month, as long as they could find
people to carry away. They used to tie them by the feet, except when they
were taking them off, and then they let them loose; but if they offered to
run away, they would shoot them. I lost a great many friends and relations
at Egie; about a dozen. They sold all they carried away, to be slaves. I
know this because I afterwards saw them as slaves on the other side of the
sea. They took away brothers, and sisters, and husbands, and wives; they
did not care about this. They were sold for cloth or gunpowder, sometimes
for salt or guns; sometimes they got four or five guns for a man: they
were English guns, made like my master's that I clean for his shooting.
The Adinyés burnt a great many places besides Egie. They burnt all the
country wherever they found villages; they used to shoot men, women, and
children, if they ran away.
They came to us about eleven o'clock one day, and directly they came they
set our house on fire. All of us had run away. We kept together, and went
into the woods, and stopped there two days. The Adinyés then went away,
and we returned home and found every thing burnt. We tried to build a
little shed, and were beginning to get comfortable again. We found
several of our neighbours lying about wounded; they had been shot. I saw
the bodies of four or five little children whom they had killed with blows
on the head. They had carried away their fathers and mothers, but the
children were too small for slaves, so they killed them. They had killed
several others, but these were all that I saw. I saw them lying in the
street like dead dogs.
In about a week after we got back, the Adinyés returned, and burnt all the
sheds and houses they had left standing. We all ran away again; we went to
the woods as we had done before.--They followed us the next day. We went
farther into the woods, and staid there about four days and nights; we
were half starved; we only got a few potatoes. My uncle Otou was with us.
At the end of this time, the Adinyés found us. We ran away. They called my
uncle to go to them; but he refused, and they shot him immediately: they
killed him. The rest of us ran on, and they did not get at us till the
next day. I ran up into a tree: they followed me and brought me down. They
tied my feet. I do not know if they found my father and mother, and
brothers and sisters: they had run faster than me, and were half a mile
farther when I got up into the tree: I have never seen them since.--There
was a man who ran up into the tree with me: I believe they shot him, for I
never saw him again.
They carried away about twenty besides me. They carried us to the sea.
They did not beat us: they only killed one man, who was very ill and too
weak to carry his load: they made all of us carry chickens and meat for
our food; but this poor man could not carry his load, and they ran him
through the body with a sword.--He was a neighbour of ours. When we got to
the sea they sold all of us, but not to the same person. They sold us for
money; and I was sold six times over, sometimes for money, sometimes for
cloth, and sometimes for a gun. I was about thirteen years old. It was
about half a year from the time I was taken, before I saw the white
people.
We were taken in a boat from place to place, and sold at every place we
stopped at. In about six months we got to a ship, in which we first saw
white people: they were French. They bought us. We found here a great many
other slaves; there were about eighty, including women and children. The
Frenchmen sent away all but five of us into another very large ship. We
five staid on board till we got to England, which was about five or six
months. The slaves we saw on board the ship were chained together by the
legs below deck, so close they could not move. They were flogged very
cruelly: I saw one of them flogged till he died; we could not tell what
for. They gave them enough to eat. The place they were confined in below
deck was so hot and nasty I could not bear to be in it. A great many of
the slaves were ill, but they were not attended to. They used to flog me
very bad on board the ship: the captain cut my head very bad one time.
"I am very happy to be in England, as far as I am very well;--but I have
no friend belonging to me, but God, who will take care of me as he has
done already. I am very glad I have come to England, to know who God is. I
should like much to see my friends again, but I do not now wish to go back
to them: for if I go back to my own country, I might be taken as a slave
again. I would rather stay here, where I am free, than go back to my
country to be sold. I shall stay in England as long as (please God) I
shall live. I wish the King of England could know all I have told you. I
wish it that he may see how cruelly we are used. We had no king in our
country, or he would have stopt it. I think the king of England might stop
it, and this is why I wish him to know it all. I have heard say he is
good; and if he is, he will stop it if he can. I am well off myself, for I
am well taken care of, and have good bed and good clothes; but I wish my
own people to be as comfortable."
"LOUIS ASA-ASA."
"_London, January 31, 1831_."
End of Project Gutenberg's The History of Mary Prince, by Mary Prince