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BIOGRAPHY OF A SLAVE
Being The Experiences Of Rev. Charles Thompson,
A Preacher Of The United Brethren Church,
WHILE A SLAVE IN THE SOUTH.
Together With Startling Occurrences Incidental To Slave Life.
1875.
PREFACE.
In publishing this book I hope to do good not only to my own race, but
to all who may read it. I am not a book-maker, and make no pretensions
to literary attainments; and I have made no efforts to create for myself
a place in the literary, book-making ranks. I claim for my book
truthfulness and honesty of purpose, and upon that basis it must succeed
or fail. The Biography of a Slave is called for by a very large number
of my immediate acquaintances, and, I am assured, will meet with such
reception as to justify the expense I have incurred in having it printed
and bound. To the members of the United Brethren Church, white as well
as colored, I look for help in the sale and circulation of my work, yet
I am satisfied I will receive commendable patronage from members of all
Christian churches everywhere.
The book is written in the narrative style, as being much better suited
to the tastes and capacities of my colored readers, and I have used
simple and plain English language, discarding the idiomatic and
provincial language of the southern slaves and ignorant whites,
expecting thereby to help educate the blacks in the use of proper
language.
I am indebted to William H. Rhodes, Esq., attorney at law, of Newman,
Douglas County, Illinois, for his valuable assistance in the preparation
of my manuscript for the printer. He has re-written the whole of it for
me, and has otherwise assisted me in the matter of placing the book
before the public.
CHARLES THOMPSON.
Newman, Illinois, Aug., 1874.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Charles Thompson, born in Atala County, Mississippi--Division of
Kirkwood's slaves among his six Children--The writer and his two sisters
fall to Mrs. Wilson--The parting between mother and child--Deprived of a
fond mother forever--Old Uncle Jack--Wilson buys Uncle Ben from
Strucker--Uncle Ben runs away and is hunted with blood-hounds--Two
hundred dollars reward.
CHAPTER II.
Not sent to hell by Wilson--Mrs. Wilson protects me, to whom I
belong--Sent to school with the children--The school-children teach me
to read and write--What came of it--Mount that mule or I'll shoot
you--I mounted the mule--A start for the railroad to work--I dismount
and take to the woods--I owe allegiance to God and my country only.
CHAPTER III.
Caught, tried, and taken back home to James Wilson--My mistress saves me
from being whipped--I go to the railroad and work one month
precisely--Go back home--Wilson surprised--Left the railroad at
3 o'clock A.M.--Did not want to disturb Leadbitter's rest--Sent to Memphis
with a load of cotton--Afraid of the slave-pens and slave-auction--Start
for home--Not sold--Pray, sing, and shout--Get home and ordered to hire
myself out.
CHAPTER IV.
Start out on my travels to hunt a new master--Find Mr. Dansley--Hire to
him--Thirty dollars per month for my master and five dollars for
myself--Wilson astonished--Appointed superintendent of Dansley's
farm--Rules and regulations--Peace and tranquillity--My moral labors
successful--Prayer and social meetings--Meetings in the woods--Quarrel
and fight like very brothers--Time comes to be moved to another field of
labor.
CHAPTER V.
James Wilson comes along--Wants me to go with him to Saulsbury,
Tennessee, to help build a house for a grocery-store--Takes me along
with him--Wilson taken sick--I take care of him--He gels well--I make
another attempt to escape from slavery--What came of it.
CHAPTER VI.
Was hired to Mr. Thompson, and adopted his name--Opened regular
meetings, and preached on the plantation and other places--Took unto
myself a wife--Was purchased by Thompson, duly installed on the
plantation, and invested with authority--Various means and plans
resorted to by the overseer to degrade me in the eyes of Mr.
Thompson--Driven, through persecution, to run away--Return back to my
master.
BIOGRAPHY OF A SLAVE.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
Charles Thompson, born in Atala County, Mississippi--Division of
Kirkwood's Slaves Among his Six Children--The Writer and his Two Sisters
Fall to Mrs. Wilson--The Parting Between Mother and Child--Deprived of a
Fond Mother Forever--Old Uncle Jack--Wilson Buys Uncle Ben from
Strucker--Uncle Ben Runs Away and is Hunted with Blood-Hounds--Two
Hundred Dollars Reward.
I was a slave, and was born in Atala County, Mississippi, near the town
of Rockford, on the third day of March, 1833. My father and mother both
being slaves, of course my pedigree is not traceable, by me, farther
back than my parents. Our family belonged to a man named Kirkwood, who
was a large slave-owner. Kirkwood died when I was about nine years old,
after which, upon the settlement of the affairs of his estate, the
slaves belonging to the estate were divided equally, as to value, among
the six heirs. There were about seventy-five slaves to be divided into
six lots; and great was the tribulation among the poor blacks when they
learned that they were to be separated.
When the division was completed two of my sisters and myself were cast
into one lot, my mother into another, and my father into another, and
the rest of the family in the other lots. Young and slave as I was, I
felt the pang of separation from my loved and revered mother; child that
I was I mourned for mother, even before our final separation, as one
dead to me forever. So early to be deprived of a fond mother, by the
"law," gave me my first view of the curse of slavery. Until this time I
did not know what trouble was, but from then until the tocsin of freedom
was sounded through the glorious Emancipation Proclamation by the
immortal Abraham Lincoln, I passed through hardship after hardship, in
quick succession, and many, many times I have almost seen and tasted
death.
I bade farewell to my mother, forever, on this earth. Oh! the pangs of
that moment. Even after thirty years have elapsed the scene comes
vividly to my memory as I write. A gloomy, dark cloud seemed to pass
before my vision, and the very air seemed to still with awfulness. I
felt bereaved, forlorn, forsaken, lost. Put yourself in my place; feel
what I have felt, and then say, God is just; he will protect the
helpless and right the wronged, and you will have some idea of my
feelings and the hope that sustained me through long and weary years of
servitude. My mother, my poor mother! what must she have suffered. Never
will I forget her last words; never will I forget the earnest prayers of
that mother begging for her child, and refusing to be comforted. She had
fallen to the lot of Mrs. Anderson, and she pleaded with burning tears
streaming down her cheeks, "He is my only son, my baby child, my
youngest and the only son I have; please let me have him to go with me!"
Anderson spoke roughly to her and told her to hold her peace; but with
her arms around me she clung to me and cried the louder, "Let me have my
child; if you will let me have my baby you may have all the rest!"
Mothers can realize this situation only, who have parted with children
whom they never expected to see again. Imagine parting with your dearest
child, never to see it again; to be thrown into life-servitude in one
part of the country and your dear child in the same condition six
hundred miles away. Although my mother was black, she had a soul; she
had a heart to feel just as you have, and I, her child, was being
ruthlessly torn from her by inexorable "law." What would you have done
if you had been in her place? _She_ prayed to God for help.
My kind old father consoled and encouraged my mother all he could, and
said to her, "Do not be discouraged, for Jesus is your friend; if you
lack for knowledge, he will inform you, and if you meet with troubles
and trials on your way, cast all your cares on Jesus, and don't forget
to pray." The old man spoke these words while praying, shouting, crying,
and saying farewell to my mother. He had, in a manner, raised nearly all
the colored people on the plantation; so he had a fatherly feeling for
all of them. The old man looked down on me, and said, "My child, you are
now without a father and will soon be without a mother; but be a good
boy, and God will be father and mother to you. If you will put your
trust in him and pray to him, he will take you home to heaven when you
die, where you can meet your mother there, where parting will be no
more. Farewell." I was then taken from my mother, and have not seen or
heard of her since--about twenty-nine years ago. Old Uncle Jack, as my
father was called by the plantation people, spoke words of comfort to
all of us before we were parted.
The lot of human chattels, of which I was one, was taken to their new
home on Wilson's plantation, in the same county as the Kirkwood
plantation. Wilson told my sisters and myself that our mother and
ourselves were about six hundred miles apart.
After I had been in my new home about two years, Wilson bought my uncle
Ben from a man named Strucker, who lived in the same neighborhood, but
he did not buy uncle Ben's wife. Two years later Wilson moved to another
plantation he owned in Pontotoc County, Mississippi, about one hundred
miles distant from his Atala County plantation. Ben not being willing to
go so far from his wife, ran away from his master. Wilson, however, left
word that if any one would catch and return Ben to him, he would pay two
hundred dollars. This was a bait not to be resisted. The professional
slave-hunters, with their blood-hounds, were soon on the track. They
failed to get the poor hunted man, though. Ben was a religious,
God-fearing man, and placed firm reliance on the help of the Almighty,
in his serious trials, and never failed to find help when most needed.
He stayed under cover in the woods, in such lurking places as the nature
of the country provided, in the day time, and at night would cautiously
approach his wife's cabin, when, at an appointed signal, she would let
him in and give him such food and care as his condition required. The
slaves of the South were united in the one particular of helping each
other in such cases as this, and would adopt ingenious telegrams and
signals to communicate with each other; and it may well be believed that
the inventive genius of the blacks was, as a general thing, equal to all
emergencies, and when driven to extremities they were brave to a fault.
Ben's wife, in this instance, used the simple device of hanging a
certain garment in a particular spot, easily to be seen from Ben's
covert, and which denoted that the coast was clear and no danger need be
apprehended. The garment and the place of hanging it had to be changed
every day, yet the signals thus made were true to the purpose, and saved
uncle Ben from capture. Uncle Ben was closely chased by the hounds and
inhuman men-hunters; on one occasion so closely that he plunged into a
stream and followed the current for more than a mile. Taking to the
water threw the hounds off the scent of the track. Before reaching the
stream, uncle Ben was so closely pursued that one of the men in the gang
shot at him, the bullet passing unpleasantly close to him. His wife
heard the hounds and the gun-shot. This race for life and liberty was
only one of a continued series, and was repeated as often as
blood-hounds could find a track to follow. At night Ben was very much
fatigued and hungry, and his only hope of getting anything to eat was to
reach his wife's cabin. How to do this without being observed, was the
question. As well as he was able, about midnight he left his retreat and
approached the cabin. It was too dark to see a signal if one had been
placed for him in the usual manner. After waiting for some time a bright
light shot through the cracks in the cabin for an instant, and was
repeated at intervals of two or three minutes, three or four times. This
was the night-signal of "all right" agreed upon between uncle Ben and
his wife, and was made by placing the usual grease light under a vessel
and raising the vessel for a moment at intervals. Ben approached the
cabin and gave _his_ signal by rapping on the door three times, and
after a short pause three more raps. Thus they had to arrange to meet;
the husband to obtain food to sustain life, and the wife to administer
to him. On this particular night their meeting was unusually impressive.
She had heard the death-hounds, the sound of the gun-shot, and she knew
the yelps of the hounds and the shot were intended for Ben, her
husband. With no crime laid to him, he was hunted down as a wild beast.
Made in God's own image, he is made a slave, a brute, an outcast, and an
outlaw because his skin is black. Thus they met, Ben and his wife. After
the usual precautions and mutual congratulations they both kneeled
before the throne of God and thanked him for their preservation thus
far, and throwing themselves upon his goodness and bounty, asked help in
their need and safety in the future. Without rising from his knees, Ben,
even in the anguish of his heart, consoled his wife, remarking, "that
the darkest hour is always just before daylight."
The blacks of the South have their own peculiar moral maxims, applicable
to all situations in life, and the slaves not knowing how to read
committed such Bible truths as were read to them from time to time. It
is true they were generally superstitious in a great degree, as all
ignorant persons are; yet their native sense of right led them to adopt
the best and most religious principles, dressed in homely "sayings,"
their circumstances permitted.
Ben dare not stay very long at a time in his wife's cabin, as a strict
watch was constantly kept, that the runaway might be apprehended.
Bidding his wife farewell, Ben hastened back to one of a number of his
hiding-places, there to stay through the day, unless routed out by the
blood-hounds. He was fortunate, however, in the help of God, for his
safety, and the efforts of the hounds and the hounds' followers were
futile.
Finally, Wilson gave up chasing Ben with blood-hounds, and resolved to
try a better and more human method. He bought Ben's wife and left her
with Strucker, with instructions to send her and Ben to his plantation
if Ben was willing for the arrangement. Ben soon got word of how matters
stood with reference to himself, and concluded if he could live with his
wife on the same plantation that it was the very best he could do, so he
acceded to the wishes of Wilson, and was sent with his wife to Wilson.
The happiness of this couple was unbounded when they found they could
once more live together as God intended they should, and the poor wife
in her great gratitude cried, "God is on our side!" Ben replied that he
had told her on one occasion that God was on their side, and that "the
darkest hour was just before day."
The usual expression used by the blacks when a runaway returned to his
master was that he "had come out of the woods;" that is, he had left his
hiding place in the woods and returned to the plantation to work.
When I heard that uncle Ben had come out of the woods, and was coming to
live on our plantation, my joy knew no bounds. On the day when he was
expected to arrive I got permission to go out on the road some distance
and meet them. Early in the morning I caught a horse and started. Every
wagon I met filled me with hope and fear blended; hope that the wagon
contained my uncle and aunt, and fear that it did not. I rode on, on,
on, all that day, until my heart was sick with hope deferred. I had
received orders before starting that if I did not meet them that day to
return home. But I was so far from home, and with straining my eyes to
catch a glimpse of my uncle, added to my keen disappointment in not
seeing them, made me feel tired, sick, and worn out. So I stopped at a
friendly cabin that night, after telling the inmates who I was and what
my errand was. Early the next morning I was out, and the anxiety to see
my uncle was so great I thought I would ride out the road a short
distance in the hope of meeting him, notwithstanding my orders to return
home. After traveling about an hour I met the wagon containing uncle
Ben and his wife. The joy of that moment to me is inexpressible. Having
been deprived of mother and father he was the only relative my sisters
and myself could ever have any hopes of seeing again. My heart rejoiced
exceedingly. I was, as it were, a new boy entirely, so overcome was I.
We all arrived home that same day, and it was a much more pleasant trip
than I had taken the day before. On that day it was all anxiety, mixed
with hope and fear; to-day it was all joy and thanksgiving, again
proving uncle Ben's saying that "the darkest hour is always just before
day." My sisters were simply wild with joy when we arrived. They ran out
the road to meet, us crying, "There comes uncle Ben; we have one more
friend!" We were all comforted and rejoiced to a very great extent, and
we felt indeed that we had "one more friend" with us. We were as happy
as slaves could be, and spent all the time we could together--uncle Ben,
his wife, my sisters, and myself.
But Wilson harbored a grudge toward uncle Ben because he had to buy his
wife in order to get him, and had said that if he ever got Ben after he
ran away he would whip him to death. He treated Ben very well for the
time being, but about a year after he had got him home he began to put
his plans into operation for severely punishing him. He was afraid of
Ben's prayers. Although Wilson would not have hesitated a moment to have
put any plan into execution he may have conceived, under ordinary
circumstances, yet praying Ben, while defending himself by appeals to
Almighty God was stronger than with carnal weapons in his hands. Wilson
proceeded cautiously and laid snares for Ben. Uncle Ben was one of the
best hands on the plantation, and religiously performed the labor
alloted him truly and persistently. He obeyed his overseer and Wilson in
all things pertaining to his manual occupation, and obeyed God to the
very best of his ability in this as in everything else. But Wilson
wanted to punish Ben, and was determined to do so. He knew that Ben was
a faithful slave to labor, and was reliable, yet he wished to break
Ben's spirit--his manhood, the God part of him. Wilson did not seem to
know that he was not fighting Ben in his scheme of revenge but that he
was fighting God in Ben, and that although he punished Ben to the death
he would be conquered himself, and more severely punished than he could
ever hope to punish Ben. But Wilson was mad, infatuated, and
satanically determined. Precautious preparations were made by Wilson to
insure success in his revengeful scheme, and after having obtained the
aid of several neighbors who were what might be called professional
slave-whippers, he deemed his undertaking to punish and conquer Ben
fully ripe for execution. Ben being a field hand was busily employed
picking cotton, with a prayerful heart, and a watchful eye on Wilson.
From Wilson's actions Ben was sure something was going to occur which
would nearly concern him, and having been hunted like a beast he had
become suspicious and on his guard all the time. Having a feeling of
presentiment, he was uneasy, and, as was usual with him, he kneeled down
and asked God to protect him from the machinations of his enemies, and
give him heart, courage, and strength to overcome the evil intended him.
While praying he was startled by the snort of a horse, and on looking
around to ascertain the cause of the noise he discovered himself almost
surrounded by armed men on horseback. No time to think now; the time for
action had arrived. Ben knew at once the flight was for life. Better,
however, was death than to be thus hunted and harassed. Bounding through
the field he gained a friendly covert, and seemingly by mere chance he
eluded his pursuers and the hounds. Ben thanked God for his deliverance.
Wilson with his heartless band were again baffled, and with man-hunting
and disappointments in his man-chase he became furious. Ben stayed in
the woods about four weeks, and during all this time my sisters, Ben's
wife, and myself were kept in close confinement, to keep us from
communicating with Ben or rendering him any assistance. Thus all of us
had to suffer. But we were only slaves.
Wilson finally took Ben's wife to a man in Oxford, about twenty-five
miles distant, and came back circulating the word among the blacks that
he had sold her. Wilson had made arrangements at Oxford with some
professional slave-hunters to catch Ben if he ever came to see his wife,
for which purpose she had been taken there.
After a time Ben was informed that he and his wife had been sold by
Wilson to a man in Oxford, and of course believing such to be the fact,
he went there to see her, and make arrangements for the future. His wife
was told by the man with whom Wilson had left her that he had bought
both her and Ben, and wished her to get Ben to "come out of the woods."
Laboring under this delusion, Ben was month. The cabin was surrounded
by armed men, when Ben was overpowered, chained, and put in jail for
safe keeping until Wilson should come after him. Living in the woods so
long and the harsh treatment he was now receiving wore Ben down
considerably; yet, believing that "the darkest hour is just before day,"
he relied on God's help in his misery.
Wilson came for Ben in due time, and after chaining him securely around
the neck he fastened one end of the chain to the rear of his buggy and
literally, a part of the time, dragged him to Holly Springs, about
thirty miles from Oxford, where he sold him to a man who had the
reputation of being the hardest master in the country. Wilson afterwards
took Ben's wife home. Thus they were separated,--Ben and his
wife,--never to meet again on this earth.
Wilson told me when he got home that he had sent Ben to hell, and that
he would send me there too. Infatuated man; he supposed he had done with
Ben for the very worst; he thought he had as much power over the souls
of his slaves as he had under "the laws" over their bodies. He found,
however, in time, that God was with us, and in his good time he
delivered us from our bondage and punished our persecutors as they
deserved.