In the long list of names who have suffered and died in the cause of
freedom, not one, perhaps, could be found whose efforts to redeem a poor
family of slaves were more Christlike than Seth Concklin's, whose noble
and daring spirit has been so long completely shrouded in mystery.
Except John Brown, it is a question, whether his rival could be found
with respect to boldness, disinterestedness and willingness to be
sacrificed for the deliverance of the oppressed.
By chance one day he came across a copy of the Pennsylvania Freeman,
containing the story of Peter Still, "the Kidnapped and the
Ransomed,"--how he had been torn away from his mother, when a little boy
six years old; how, for forty years and more, he had been compelled to
serve under the yoke, totally destitute as to any knowledge of his
parents' whereabouts; how the intense love of liberty and desire to get
back to his mother had unceasingly absorbed his mind through all these
years of bondage; how, amid the most appalling discouragements, prompted
alone by his undying determination to be free and be reunited with those
from whom he had been sold away, he contrived to buy himself; how, by
extreme economy, from doing over-work, he saved up five hundred dollars,
the amount of money required for his ransom, which, with his freedom,
he, from necessity, placed unreservedly in the confidential keeping of a
Jew, named Joseph Friedman, whom he had known for a long time and could
venture to trust,--how he had further toiled to save up money to defray
his expenses on an expedition in search of his mother and kindred; how,
when this end was accomplished, with an earnest purpose he took his
carpet-bag in his hand, and his heart throbbing for his old home and
people, he turned his mind very privately towards Philadelphia, where he
hoped, by having notices read in the colored churches to the effect that
"forty-one or forty-two years before two little boys[A] were kidnapped
and carried South"--that the memory of some of the older members might
recall the circumstances, and in this way he would be aided in his
ardent efforts to become restored to them.
[Footnote A: Sons of Levin and Sidney--the last names of his parents he
was too young to remember.]
And, furthermore, Seth Concklin had read how, on arriving in
Philadelphia, after traveling sixteen hundred miles, that almost the
first man whom Peter Still sought advice from was his own unknown
brother (whom he had never seen or heard of), who made the discovery
that he was the long-lost boy, whose history and fate had been enveloped
in sadness so long, and for whom his mother had shed so many tears and
offered so many prayers, during the long years of their separation; and,
finally, how this self-ransomed and restored captive, notwithstanding
his great success, was destined to suffer the keenest pangs of sorrow
for his wife and children, whom he had left in Alabama bondage.
Seth Concklin was naturally too singularly sympathetic and humane not to
feel now for Peter, and especially for his wife and children left in
bonds as bound with them. Hence, as Seth was a man who seemed wholly
insensible to fear, and to know no other law of humanity and right, than
whenever the claims of the suffering and the wronged appealed to him, to
respond unreservedly, whether those thus injured were amongst his
nearest kin or the greatest strangers,--it mattered not to what race or
clime they might belong,--he, in the spirit of the good Samaritan,
owning all such as his neighbors, volunteered his services, without pay
or reward, to go and rescue the wife and three children of Peter Still.
The magnitude of this offer can hardly be appreciated. It was literally
laying his life on the altar of freedom for the despised and oppressed
whom he had never seen, whose kins-folk even he was not acquainted with.
At this juncture even Peter was not prepared to accept this proposal. He
wanted to secure the freedom of his wife and children as earnestly as he
had ever desired to see his mother, yet he could not, at first, hearken
to the idea of having them rescued in the way suggested by Concklin,
fearing a failure.
To J.M. McKim and the writer, the bold scheme for the deliverance of
Peter's family was alone confided. It was never submitted to the
Vigilance Committee, for the reason, that it was not considered a matter
belonging thereto. On first reflection, the very idea of such an
undertaking seemed perfectly appalling. Frankly was he told of the great
dangers and difficulties to be encountered through hundreds of miles of
slave territory. Seth was told of those who, in attempting to aid slaves
to escape had fallen victims to the relentless Slave Power, and had
either lost their lives, or been incarcerated for long years in
penitentiaries, where no friendly aid could be afforded them; in short,
he was plainly told, that without a very great chance, the undertaking
would cost him his life. The occasion of this interview and
conversation, the seriousness of Concklin and the utter failure in
presenting the various obstacles to his plan, to create the slightest
apparent misgiving in his mind, or to produce the slightest sense of
fear or hesitancy, can never be effaced from the memory of the writer.
The plan was, however, allowed to rest for a time.
In the meanwhile, Peter's mind was continually vacillating between
Alabama, with his wife and children, and his new-found relatives in the
North. Said a brother, "If you cannot get your family, what will you do?
Will you come North and live with your relatives?" "I would as soon go
out of the world, as not to go back and do all I can for them," was the
prompt reply of Peter.
The problem of buying them was seriously considered, but here obstacles
quite formidable lay in the way. Alabama laws utterly denied the right
of a slave to buy himself, much less his wife and children. The right of
slave masters to free their slaves, either by sale or emancipation, was
positively prohibited by law. With these reflections weighing upon his
mind, having stayed away from his wife as long as he could content
himself to do, he took his carpet-bag in his hand, and turned his face
toward Alabama, to embrace his family in the prison-house of bondage.
His approach home could only be made stealthily, not daring to breathe
to a living soul, save his own family, his nominal Jew master, and one
other friend--a slave--where he had been, the prize he had found, or
anything in relation to his travels. To his wife and children his return
was unspeakably joyous. The situation of his family concerned him with
tenfold more weight than ever before,
As the time drew near to make the offer to his wife's master to purchase
her with his children, his heart failed him through fear of awakening
the ire of slaveholders against him, as he knew that the law and public
sentiment were alike deadly opposed to the spirit of freedom in the
slave. Indeed, as innocent as a step in this direction might appear, in
those days a man would have stood about as good a chance for his life in
entering a lair of hungry hyenas, as a slave or free colored man would,
in talking about freedom.
He concluded, therefore, to say nothing about buying. The plan proposed
by Seth Concklin was told to Vina, his wife; also what he had heard from
his brother about the Underground Rail Road,--how, that many who could
not get their freedom in any other way, by being aided a little, were
daily escaping to Canada. Although the wife and children had never
tasted the pleasures of freedom for a single hour in their lives, they
hated slavery heartily, and being about to be far separated from husband
and father, they were ready to assent to any proposition that looked
like deliverance.
So Peter proposed to Vina, that she should give him certain small
articles, consisting of a cape, etc., which he would carry with him as
memorials, and, in case Concklin or any one else should ever come for
her from him, as an unmistakable sign that all was right, he would send
back, by whoever was to befriend them, the cape, so that she and the
children might not doubt but have faith in the man, when he gave her the
sign, (cape).
Again Peter returned to Philadelphia, and was now willing to accept the
offer of Concklin. Ere long, the opportunity of an interview was had,
and Peter gave Seth a very full description of the country and of his
family, and made known to him, that he had very carefully gone over with
his wife and children the matter of their freedom. This interview
interested Concklin most deeply. If his own wife and children had been
in bondage, scarcely could he have manifested greater sympathy for them.
For the hazardous work before him he was at once prepared to make a
start. True he had two sisters in Philadelphia for whom he had always
cherished the warmest affection, but he conferred not with them on this
momentous mission. For full well did he know that it was not in human
nature for them to acquiesce in this perilous undertaking, though one of
these sisters, Mrs. Supplee, was a most faithful abolitionist.
Having once laid his hand to the plough he was not the man to look
back,--not even to bid his sisters good-bye, but he actually left them
as though he expected to be home to his dinner as usual. What had become
of him during those many weeks of his perilous labors in Alabama to
rescue this family was to none a greater mystery than to his sisters. On
leaving home he simply took two or three small articles in the way of
apparel with one hundred dollars to defray his expenses for a time; this
sum he considered ample to start with. Of course he had very safely
concealed about him Vina's cape and one or two other articles which he
was to use for his identification in meeting her and the children on the
plantation.
His first thought was, on reaching his destination, after becoming
acquainted with the family, being familiar with Southern manners, to
have them all prepared at a given hour for the starting of the steamboat
for Cincinnati, and to join him at the wharf, when he would boldly
assume the part of a slaveholder, and the family naturally that of
slaves, and in this way he hoped to reach Cincinnati direct, before
their owner had fairly discovered their escape.
But alas for Southern irregularity, two or three days' delay after being
advertised to start, was no uncommon circumstance with steamers; hence
this plan was abandoned. What this heroic man endured from severe
struggles and unyielding exertions, in traveling thousands of miles on
water and on foot, hungry and fatigued, rowing his living freight for
seven days and seven nights in a skiff, is hardly to be paralleled in
the annals of the Underground Rail Road.
The following interesting letters penned by the hand of Concklin convey
minutely his last struggles and characteristically represent the
singleness of heart which impelled him to sacrifice his life for the
slave--