laughed. Here you'd see a woman wid a pail on her head, rice a smokin'
in it jus as she'd taken it from de fire, young one hangin' on behind,
one han' roun' her forehead to hold on, 'tother han' diggin' into de
rice-pot, eatin' wid all its might; hold of her dress two or three more;
down her back a bag wid a pig in it. One woman brought two pigs, a
white one, an' a black one; we took 'em all on board; named de white pig
Beauregard, an' de black pig Jeff Davis. Sometimes de women would come
wid twins hangin' roun' der necks; 'pears like I nebber see so many
twins in my life; bags on der shoulders, baskets on der heads, and young
ones taggin' behin', all loaded; pigs squealin', chickens screamin',
young ones squallin'." And so they came pouring down to the gun-boats.
When they stood on the shore, and the small boats put out to take them
off, they all wanted to get in at once. After the boats were crowded,
they would hold on to them so that they could not leave the shore. The
oarsmen would beat them on their hands, but they would not let go; they
were afraid the gun-boats would go off and leave them, and all wanted to
make sure of one of these arks of refuge. At length Col. Montgomery
shouted from the upper deck, above the clamor of appealing tones,
"Moses, you'll have to give 'em a song." Then Harriet lifted up her
voice and sang:
"Of all the whole creation in the east or in the west,
The glorious Yankee nation is the greatest and the best,
Come along! Come along! don't be alarmed,
Uncle Sam is rich enough to give you all a farm."
At the end of every verse, the negroes in their enthusiasm would throw
up their hands and shout "Glory," and the row-boats would take that
opportunity to push off; and so at last they were all brought on board.
The masters fled; houses and barns and railroad bridges were burned,
tracks torn up, torpedoes destroyed, and the expedition was in all
respects successful.
This fearless woman was often sent into the rebel lines as a spy, and
brought back valuable information as to the position of armies and
batteries; she has been in battle when the shot was falling like hail,
and the bodies of dead and wounded men were dropping around her like
leaves in autumn; but the thought of fear never seems to have had place
for a moment in her mind. She had her duty to perform, and she expected
to be taken care of till it was done.
Would that instead of taking them in this poor way at second-hand, my
readers could hear this woman's graphic accounts of scenes she herself
witnessed, could listen to her imitations of negro preachers in their
own very peculiar dialect, her singing of camp-meeting hymns, her
account of "experience meetings," her imitations of the dances, and the
funeral ceremonies of these simple people. "Why, der language down dar
in de far South is jus' as different from ours in Maryland, as you can
think," said she. "Dey laughed when dey heard me talk, an' I could not
understand dem, no how." She described a midnight funeral which she
attended; for the slaves, never having been allowed to bury their dead
in the day time, continued the custom of night funerals from habit.
The corpse was laid upon the ground, and the people all sat round, the
group being lighted up by pine torches.
The old negro preacher began by giving out a hymn, which was sung by
all. "An' oh! I wish you could hear 'em sing, Missus," said Harriet.
"Der voices is so sweet, and dey can sing eberyting we sing, an' den dey
can sing a great many hymns dat we can't nebber catch at all."
The old preacher began his sermon by pointing to the dead man, who lay
in a rude box on the ground before him.
"_Shum?_ Ded-a-de-dah! _Shum, David?_ Ded-a-de-dah! Now I want you all
to _flec'_ for moment. Who ob all dis congregation is gwine next to lie
ded-a-de-dah? You can't go nowheres, my frien's and bredren, but Deff'll
fin' you. You can't dig no hole so deep an' bury yourself dar, but God
A'mighty's far-seein' eye'll fine you, an' Deff'll come arter you. You
can't go into that big fort (pointing to Hilton Head), an' shut
yourself up dar; dat fort dat Sesh Buckner said de debil couldn't take,
but Deff'll fin' you dar. All your frien's may forget you, but Deff'll
nebber forget you. Now, my bredren, prepare to lie ded-a-de-dah!"
This was the burden of a very long sermon, after which the whole
congregation went round in a sort of solemn dance, called the "spiritual
shuffle," shaking hands with each other, and calling each other by name
as they sang:
My sis'r Mary's boun' to go;
My sis'r Nanny's boun' to go;
My brudder Tony's boun' to go;
My brudder July's boun' to go.
This to the same tune, till every hand had been shaken by every one of
the company. When they came to Harriet, who was a stranger, they sang:
Eberybody's boun' to go!
The body was then placed in a Government wagon, and by the light of the
pine torches, the strange, dark procession moved along, singing a rude
funeral hymn, till they reached the place of burial.
Harriet's account of her interview with an old negro she met at Hilton
Head, is amusing and interesting. He said, "I'd been yere seventy-three
years, workin' for my master widout even a dime wages. I'd worked
rain-wet sun dry. I'd worked wid my mouf full of dust, but would not
stop to get a drink of water. I'd been whipped, an' starved, an' I was
always prayin', 'Oh! Lord, come an' delibber us!' All dat time de birds
had been flyin', an' de rabens had been cryin', and de fish had been
sunnin' in de waters. One day I look up, an' I see a big cloud; it
didn't come up like as de clouds come out far yonder, but it 'peared to
be right ober head. Der was tunders out of dat, an' der was lightnin's.
Den I looked down on de water, an' I see, 'peared to me a big house in
de water, an' out of de big house came great big eggs, and de good eggs
went on trou' de air, an' fell into de fort; an' de bad eggs burst
before dey got dar. Den de Sesh Buckra begin to run, an de neber stop
running till de git to de swamp, an' de stick dar an' de die dar. Den I
heard 'twas the Yankee ship[1] firin' out de big eggs, an dey had come
to set us free. Den I praise de Lord. He come an' put he little finger
in de work, an' dey Sesh Buckra all go; and de birds stop flyin', and de
rabens stop cryin', an' when I go to catch a fish to eat wid my rice,
de's no fish dar. De Lord A'mighty'd come and frightened 'em all out of
de waters. Oh! Praise de Lord! I'd prayed seventy-three years, an' now
he's come an' we's all free."
The last time Harriet was returning from the war, with her pass as
hospital nurse, she bought a half-fare ticket, as she was told she must
do; and missing the other train, she got into an emigrant train on the
Amboy Railroad. When the conductor looked at her ticket, he said, "Come,
hustle out of here! We don't carry niggers for half-fare." Harriet
explained to him that she was in the employ of Government, and was
entitled to transportation as the soldiers were. But the conductor took
her forcibly by the arm, and said, "I'll make you tired of trying to
stay here." She resisted, and being very strong, she could probably have
got the better of the conductor, had he not called three men to his
assistance. The car was filled with emigrants, and no one seemed to take
her part. The only words she heard, accompanied with fearful oaths,
were, "Pitch the nagur out!" They nearly wrenched her arm off, and at
length threw her, with all their strength, into a baggage-car. She
supposed her arm was broken, and in intense suffering she came on to New
York. As she left the car, a delicate-looking young man came up to her,
and, handing her a card, said, "You ought to sue that conductor, and if
you want a witness, call on me." Harriet remained all winter under the
care of a physician in New York; he advised her to sue the Railroad
company, and said that he would willingly testify as to her injuries.
But the card the young man had given her was only a visiting card, and
she did not know where to find him, and so she let the matter go.
The writer here finds it necessary to apologize for the very desultory
and hasty manner in which this little book is written. Being herself
pressed for time, in the expectation of soon leaving the country, she is
obliged to pen down the material to be used in the short and interrupted
interviews she can obtain with Harriet, and also to use such letters and
accounts as may be sent her, as they come, without being able to work
them in, in the order of time. A very material assistance is to be
rendered her by the kind offer of an account of Harriet's services
during the war, written by Mr. Charles P. Wood, of Auburn, and kindly
copied by one of Harriet's most faithful and most efficient friends,
Mrs. S. M. Hopkins, of that place.
It was a wise plan of our sagacious heroine to leave her old parents
till the last to be brought away. They were pensioned off as too old to
work, had a cabin, and a horse and cow, and were quite comfortable. If
Harriet had taken them away before the young people, these last would
have been sold into Southern slavery, to keep them out of her way. But
at length Harriet heard that the old man had been betrayed by a slave
whom he had assisted, but who had turned back, and when questioned by
his wife, told her the story of his intended escape, and of the aid he
had received from "Old Ben." This woman, hoping to curry favor with her
master, revealed the whole to him, and "Old Ben" was arrested. He was to
be tried the next week, when Harriet appeared upon the scene, and, as
she says, "saved dem de expense ob de trial," and removed her father to
a higher court, by taking him off to Canada. The manner of their escape
is detailed in the following letter from Thomas Garrett, the Wilmington
Quaker:
WILMINGTON, 6th Mo., 1868.
MY FRIEND: Thy favor of the 12th reached me yesterday, requesting
such reminiscences as I could give respecting the remarkable labors
of Harriet Tubman, in aiding her colored friends from bondage. I
may begin by saying, living as I have in a slave State, and the
laws being very severe where any proof could be made of any one
aiding slaves on their way to freedom, I have not felt at liberty
to keep any written word of Harriet's or my own labors, except in
numbering those whom I have aided. For that reason I cannot furnish
so interesting an account of Harriet's labors as I otherwise could,
and now would be glad to do; for in truth I never met with any
person, of any color, who had more confidence in the voice of God,
as spoken direct to her soul. She has frequently told me that she
talked with God, and he talked with her every day of her life, and
she has declared to me that she felt no more fear of being arrested
by her former master, or any other person, when in his immediate
neighborhood, than she did in the State of New York, or Canada, for
she said she never ventured only where God sent her, and her faith
in a Supreme Power truly was great.
I have now been confined to my room with indisposition more than
four weeks, and cannot sit to write much; but I feel so much
interested in Harriet that I will try to give some of the most
remarkable incidents that now present themselves to my mind. The
date of the commencement of her labors, I cannot certainly give;
but I think it must have been about 1845; from that time till 1860,
I think she must have brought from the neighborhood where she had
been held as a slave, from 60 to 80 persons, from Maryland, some 80
miles from here. No slave who placed himself under her care, was
ever arrested that I have heard of; she mostly had her regular
stopping places on her route; but in one instance, when she had two
stout men with her, some 30 miles below here, she said that God
told her to stop, which she did; and then asked him what she must
do. He told her to leave the road, and turn to the left; she
obeyed, and soon came to a small stream of tide water; there was no
boat, no bridge; she again inquired of her Guide what she was to
do. She was told to go through. It was cold, in the month of March;
but having confidence in her Guide, she went in; the water came up
to her arm-pits; the men refused to follow till they saw her safe
on the opposite shore. They then followed, and if I mistake not,
she had soon to wade a second stream; soon after which she came to
a cabin of colored people, who took them all in, put them to bed,
and dried their clothes, ready to proceed next night on their
journey. Harriet had run out of money, and gave them some of her
under-clothing to pay for their kindness. When she called on me two
days after, she was so hoarse she could hardly speak, and was also
suffering with violent toothache. The strange part of the story we
found to be, that the master of these two men had put up the
previous day, at the railroad station near where she left, an
advertisement for them, offering a large reward for their
apprehension; but they made a safe exit. She at one time brought as
many as seven or eight, several of whom were women and children.
She was well known here in Chester County and Philadelphia, and
respected by all true abolitionists. I had been in the habit of
furnishing her and those that accompanied her, as she returned from
her acts of mercy, with new shoes; and on one occasion when I had
not seen her for three months, she came into my store. I said,
"Harriet, I am glad to see thee! I suppose thee wants a pair of new
shoes." Her reply was "I want more than that." I, in jest, said, "I
have always been liberal with thee, and wish to be; but I am not
rich, and cannot afford to give much." Her reply was: "God tells me
you have money for me." I asked her "if God never deceived her?"
She said, "No!" "Well! how much does thee want?" After studying a
moment, she said: "About twenty-three dollars." I then gave her
twenty-four dollars and some odd cents, the net proceeds of five
pounds sterling, received through Eliza Wigham, of Scotland, for
her. I had given some accounts of Harriet's labor to the
Anti-Slavery Society of Edinburgh, of which Eliza Wigham was
Secretary. On the reading of my letter, a gentleman present said he
would send Harriet four pounds if he knew of any way to get it to
her. Eliza Wigham offered to forward it to me for her, and that was
the first money ever received by me for her. Some twelve months
after, she called on me again, and said that God told her I had
some money for her, but not so much as before. I had, a few days
previous, received the net proceeds of one pound ten shillings from
Europe for her. To say the least, there was something remarkable in
these facts, whether clairvoyance, or the divine impression on her
mind from the source of all power, I cannot tell; but certain it
was she had a guide within herself other than the written word, for
she never had any education. She brought away her aged parents in a
singular manner. They started with an old horse, fitted out in
primitive style with a _straw collar_, a pair of old chaise wheels,
with a board on the axle to sit on, another board swung with ropes,
fastened to the axle, to rest their feet on. She got her parents,
who were both slaves belonging to different masters, on this rude
vehicle to the railroad, put them in the cars, turned Jehu herself,
and drove to town in a style that no human being ever did before or
since; but she was happy at having arrived safe. Next day, I
furnished her with money to take them all to Canada. I afterwards
sold their horse, and sent them the balance of the proceeds. I
believe that Harriet succeeded in freeing all her relatives but one
sister and her three children. Etc., etc.
Thy friend,
THOS. GARRETT.
Friend Garrett probably refers here to those who passed through his
hands. Harriet was obliged to come by many different routes on her
different journeys, and though she never counted those whom she brought
away with her, it would seem, by the computation of others, that there
must have been somewhere near three hundred brought by her to the
Northern States and Canada.
Extracts from a letter written by Mr. Sanborn, Secretary of the
Massachusetts Board of State Charities.
MY DEAR MADAME: Mr. Phillips has sent me your note, asking for
reminiscences of Harriet Tubman, and testimonials to her
extraordinary story, which all her New England friends will, I am
sure, be glad to furnish.
I never had reason to doubt the truth of what Harriet said in
regard to her own career, for I found her singularly truthful. Her
imagination is warm and rich, and there is a whole region of the
marvelous in her nature, which has manifested itself at times
remarkably. Her dreams and visions, misgivings and forewarnings,
ought not to be omitted in any life of her, particularly those
relating to John Brown.
She was in his confidence in 1858-9, and he had a great regard for
her, which he often expressed to me. She aided him in his plans,
and expected to do so still further, when his career was closed by
that wonderful campaign in Virginia. The first time she came to my
house, in Concord, after that tragedy, she was shown into a room in
the evening, where Brackett's bust of John Brown was standing. The
sight of it, which was new to her, threw her into a sort of ecstacy
of sorrow and admiration, and she went on in her rhapsodical way to
pronounce his apotheosis.
She has often been in Concord, where she resided at the houses of
Emerson, Alcott, the Whitneys, the Brooks family, Mrs. Horace
Mann, and other well known persons. They all admired and respected
her, and nobody doubted the reality of her adventures. She was too
_real_ a person to be suspected. In 1862, I think it was, she went
from Boston to Port Royal, under the advice and encouragement of
Mr. Garrison, Governor Andrew, Dr. Howe, and other leading people.
Her career in South Carolina is well known to some of our officers,
and I think to Colonel Higginson, now of Newport, R. I., and
Colonel James Montgomery, of Kansas, to both of whom she was useful
as a spy and guide, if I mistake not. I regard her as, on the
whole, the most extraordinary person of her race I have ever met.
She is a negro of pure or almost pure blood, can neither read nor
write, and has the characteristics of her race and condition. But
she has done what can scarcely be credited on the best authority,
and she has accomplished her purposes with a coolness, foresight,
patience, and wisdom, which in a _white man_ would have raised him
to the highest pitch of reputation.
I am, dear Madame, very truly your servant,
F. B. SANBORN.
Of the "dreams and visions" mentioned in this letter, the writer might
have given many wonderful instances; but it was thought best not to
insert anything which, with any, might bring discredit upon the story.
When these turns of somnolency come upon Harriet, she imagines that her
"spirit" leaves her body, and visits other scenes and places, not only
in this world, but in the world of spirits. And her ideas of these
scenes show, to say the least of it, a vividness of imagination seldom
equaled in the soarings of the most cultivated minds.
Not long since, the writer, on going into Harriet's room in the morning,
sat down by her and began to read that wonderful and glorious
description of the heavenly Jerusalem in the two last chapters of
Revelations. When the reading was finished, Harriet burst into a
rhapsody which perfectly amazed her hearer--telling of what she had seen
in one of these visions, sights which no one could doubt had been real
to her, and which no human imagination could have conceived, it would
seem, unless in dream or vision. There was a wild poetry in these
descriptions which seemed to border almost on inspiration, but by many
they might be characterized as the ravings of insanity. All that can be
said is, however, if this woman is insane, there has been a wonderful
"method in her madness."
At one time, Harriet was much troubled in spirit about her three
brothers, feeling sure that some great evil was impending over their
heads. She wrote a letter, by the hand of a friend, to a man named Jacob
Jackson, who lived near there. Jacob was a free negro, who could both
read and write, and who was under suspicion at that time, as it was
thought he had something to do with the disappearance of so many slaves.
It was necessary, therefore, to be very cautious in writing to him.
Jacob had an adopted son, William Henry Jackson, also free, who had come
South; and so Harriet determined to sign her letter with his name,
knowing that Jacob would be clever enough to understand, by her peculiar
phraseology, what meaning she intended to convey to him. She, therefore,
after speaking of indifferent matters, said, "Read my letter to the old
folks, and give my love to them, and tell my brothers to be always
_watching unto prayer_, and when the _good old ship of Zion comes along,
to be ready to step aboard_."