in prison to await the day of execution, which would give him ten days
to prepare for his doom. George was the son of a member of the American
Congress, his mother being a servant in the principal hotel in
Washington, where members of Congress usually put up. After the birth of
George, his mother was sold to a negro trader, and he to a Virginian,
who sent agents through the country to buy up young slaves to raise for
the market. George was only about nineteen years of age, when he
unfortunately became connected with the insurrection. Mr. Green, who
owned George, was a comparatively good master, and prided himself on
treating his slaves better than most men. This gentleman was also the
owner of a girl who was perfectly white, with straight hair and
prominent features. This girl was said to be the daughter of her own
master. A feeling of attachment sprang up between Mary and George, which
proved to be more than mere friendship, and upon which we base the
burden of this narrative.
After poor George had been sentenced to death and cast into prison, Mary
begged and obtained leave to visit George, and administer to him the
comforts of religion, as she was a member of a religious body, while
George was not. As George had been a considerable favourite with Mrs.
Green, Mary had no difficulty in obtaining permission to pay a daily
visit to him, to whom she had pledged her heart and hand. At one of
these meetings, and only four days from the time fixed for the
execution, while Mary was seated in George's cell, it occurred to her
that she might yet save him from a felon's doom. She revealed to him
the secret that was then occupying her thoughts, viz., that George
should exchange clothes with her, and thus attempt his escape in
disguise. But he would not for a single moment listen to the
proposition. Not that he feared detection; but he would not consent to
place an innocent and affectionate girl in a position where she might
have to suffer for him. Mary pleaded, but in vain--George was
inflexible. The poor girl left her lover with a heavy heart, regretting
that her scheme had proved unsuccessful.
Towards the close of the next day, Mary again appeared at the prison
door for admission, and was soon by the side of him whom she so ardently
loved. While there, the clouds which had overhung the city for some
hours, broke, and the rain fell in torrents amid the most terrific
thunder and lightning. In the most persuasive manner possible, Mary
again importuned George to avail himself of her assistance to escape
from an ignominious death. After assuring him that she not being the
person condemned, would not receive any injury, he at last consented,
and they began to exchange apparel. As George was of small stature, and
both were white, there was no difficulty in his passing out without
detection: and as she usually left the cell weeping, with handkerchief
in hand, and sometimes at her face, he had only to adopt this mode and
his escape was safe. They had kissed each other, and Mary had told
George where he would find a small parcel of provisions which she had
placed in a secluded spot, when the prison-keeper opened the door, and
said, "Come, girl, it is time for you to go." George again embraced
Mary, and passed out of the gaol. It was already dark and the street
lamps were lighted, so that our hero in his new dress had no dread of
detection. The provisions were sought out and found, and poor George was
soon on the road towards Canada. But neither of them had once thought of
a change of dress for George when he should have escaped, and he had
walked but a short distance before he felt that a change of his apparel
would facilitate his progress. But he dared not go amongst even his
coloured associates for fear of being betrayed. However, he made the
best of his way on towards Canada, hiding in the woods during the day,
and travelling by the guidance of the North Star at night.
One morning, George arrived on the banks of the Ohio river, and found
his journey had terminated, unless he could get some one to take him
across the river in a secret manner, for he would not be permitted to
cross in any of the ferry boats; it being a penalty for crossing a
slave, besides the value of the slave. He concealed himself in the tall
grass and weeds near the river, to see if he could embrace an
opportunity to cross. He had been in his hiding-place but a short time,
when he observed a man in a small boat, floating near the shore,
evidently fishing. His first impulse was to call out to the man and ask
him to take him over to the Ohio side, but the fear that the man was a
slaveholder, or one who might possibly arrest him, deterred him from it.
The man after rowing and floating about for some time fastened the boat
to the root of a tree, and started to a neighbouring farm-house. This
was George's moment, and he seized it. Running down the bank, he
unfastened the boat, jumped in, and with all the expertness of one
accustomed to a boat, rowed across the river and landed on the Ohio
side.
Being now in a free state, he thought he might with perfect safety
travel on towards Canada. He had, however, gone but a few miles, when he
discovered two men on horseback coming behind him. He felt sure that
they could not be in pursuit of him, yet he did not wish to be seen by
them, so he turned into another road, leading to a house near by. The
men followed, and were but a short distance from George, when he ran up
to a farm house, before which was standing a farmer-looking man, in a
broad-brimmed hat and straight collared coat, whom he implored to save
him from the "slave-catchers." The farmer told him to go into the barn
near by; he entered by the front door, the farmer following, and closing
the door behind George, but remaining outside, and gave directions to
his hired man as to what should be done with George. The slaveholders by
this time had dismounted, and were in the front of the barn demanding
admittance, and charging the farmer with secreting their slave woman,
for George was still in the dress of a woman. The Friend, for the farmer
proved to be a member of the Society of Friends, told the slave-owners
that if they wished to search his barn, they must first get an officer
and a search warrant. While the parties were disputing, the farmer began
nailing up the front door, and the hired man served the back door in the
same way. The slaveholders, finding that they could not prevail on the
Friend to allow them to get the slave, determined to go in search of an
officer. One was left to see that the slave did not escape from the
barn, while the other went off at full speed to Mount Pleasant, the
nearest town. George was not the slave of either of these men, nor were
they in pursuit of him, but they had lost a woman who had been seen in
that vicinity, and when they saw poor George in the disguise of a
female, and attempting to elude pursuit, they felt sure they were close
upon their victim. However, if they had caught him, although he was not
their slave, they would have taken him back and placed him in goal, and
there he would have remained until his owner arrived.
After an absence of nearly two hours, the slave owner returned with an
officer and found the Friend still driving large nails into the door. In
a triumphant tone, and with a corresponding gesture, he handed the
search-warrant to the Friend, and said, "There, Sir, now I will see if I
can't get my Nigger." "Well," said the Friend, "thou hast gone to work
according to law, and thou can now go into my barn." "Lend me your
hammer that I may get the door open," said the slaveholder. "Let me see
the warrant again." And after reading it over once more, he said, "I see
nothing in this paper which says I must supply thee with tools to open
my door; if thou wishes to go in, thou must get a hammer elsewhere." The
sheriff said, "I will go to a neighbouring farm and borrow something
which will introduce us to Miss Dinah;" and he immediately went in
search of tools. In a short time the officer returned, and they
commenced an assault and battery upon the barn door, which soon yielded;
and in went the slaveholder and officer, and began turning up the hay
and using all other means to find the lost property; but, to their
astonishment, the slave was not there. After all hope of getting Dinah
was gone, the slave-owner in a rage, said to the Friend, "My Nigger is
not here." "I did not tell thee there was any one here." "Yes, but I saw
her go in, and you shut the door behind her, and if she was not in the
barn, what did you nail the door for?" "Can't I do what I please with my
own barn door? Now I will tell thee; thou need trouble thyself no more,
for the person thou art after entered the front door and went out at the
back door, and is a long way from here by this time. Thou and thy friend
must be somewhat fatigued by this time, wont thou go in and take a
little dinner with me?" We need not say that this cool invitation of the
good Quaker was not accepted by the slaveholders. George, in the
meantime, had been taken to a Friend's dwelling some miles away, where,
after laying aside his female attire, and being snugly dressed up in a
straight collared coat, and pantaloons to match, was again put on the
right road towards Canada. Two weeks after this found him in the town
of St. Catharines, working on the farm of Colonel Strut, and attending a
night school.
George, however, did not forget his promise to use all means in his
power to get Mary out of slavery. He, therefore, laboured with all his
might, to obtain money with which to employ some one to go back to
Virginia for Mary. After nearly six months' labour at St. Catharines, he
employed an English missionary to go and see if the girl could be
purchased, and at what price. The missionary went accordingly, but
returned with the sad intelligence that on account of Mary's aiding
George to escape, the court had compelled Mr. Green to sell her out of
the State, and she had been sold to a Negro trader and taken to the New
Orleans market. As all hope of getting the girl was now gone, George
resolved to quit the American continent for ever. He immediately took
passage in a vessel laden with timber, bound for Liverpool, and in five
weeks from that time he was standing on the quay of the great English
seaport. With little or no education, he found many difficulties in the
way of getting a respectable living. However, he obtained a situation
as porter in a large house in Manchester, where he worked during the
day, and took private lessons at night. In this way he laboured for
three years, and was then raised to the situation of a clerk. George was
so white as easily to pass for a white man, and being somewhat ashamed
of his African descent, he never once mentioned the fact of his having
been a slave. He soon became a partner in the firm that employed him,
and was now on the road to wealth.
In the year 1842, just ten years after George Green (for he adopted his
master's name) arrived in England, he visited France, and spent some
days at Dunkirk. It was towards sunset, on a warm day in the month of
October, that Mr. Green, after strolling some distance from the Hotel de
Leon, entered a burial ground and wandered long alone among the silent
dead, gazing upon the many green graves and marble tombstones of those
who once moved on the theatre of busy life, and whose sounds of gaiety
once fell upon the ear of man. All nature around was hushed in silence,
and seemed to partake of the general melancholy which hung over the
quiet resting place of departed mortals. After tracing the varied
inscriptions which told the characters or conditions of the departed,
and viewing the mounds 'neath which the dust of mortality slumbered, he
had now reached a secluded spot, near to where an aged weeping willow
bowed its thick foliage to the ground, as though anxious to hide from
the scrutinizing gaze of curiosity the grave beneath it. Mr. Green
seated himself upon a marble tomb, and began to read Roscoe's Leo X., a
copy of which he had under his arm. It was then about twilight, and he
had scarcely gone through half a page, when he observed a lady in black,
leading a boy some five years old up one of the paths; and as the lady's
black veil was over her face, he felt somewhat at liberty to eye her
more closely. While looking at her, the lady gave a scream and appeared
to be in a fainting position, when Mr. Green sprang from his seat in
time to save her from falling to the ground. At this moment, an elderly
gentleman was seen approaching with a rapid step, who from his
appearance was evidently the lady's father, or one intimately connected
with her. He came up, and in a confused manner, asked what was the
matter. Mr. Green explained as well as he could. After taking up the
smelling bottle which had fallen from her hand, and holding it a short
time to her face, she soon began to revive. During all this time, the
lady's veil had so covered her face, that Mr. Green had not seen it.
When she had so far recovered as to be able to raise her head, she again
screamed, and fell back into the arms of the old man. It now appeared
quite certain, that either the countenance of George Green, or some
other object, was the cause of these fits of fainting; and the old
gentleman, thinking it was the former, in rather a petulant tone said,
"I will thank you, Sir, if you will leave us alone." The child whom the
lady was leading had now set up a squall; and amid the death-like
appearance of the lady, the harsh look of the old man, and the cries of
the boy, Mr. Green left the grounds and returned to his hotel.
Whilst seated by the window, and looking out upon the crowded street,
with every now and then the strange scene in the grave-yard vividly
before him, Mr. Green thought of the book he had been reading, and,
remembering that he had left it on the tomb, where he had suddenly
dropped it when called to the assistance of the lady, he immediately
determined to return in search of it. After a walk of some twenty
minutes, he was again over the spot where he had been an hour before,
and from which he had been so unceremoniously expelled by the old man.
He looked in vain for the book; it was no where to be found: nothing
save a bouquet which the lady had dropped, and which lay half-buried in
the grass from having been trodden upon, indicated that any one had been
there that evening. Mr. Green took up the bunch of flowers, and again
returned to the hotel.
After passing a sleepless night, and hearing the clock strike six, he
dropped into a sweet sleep, from which he did not awake until roused by
the rap of a servant, who, entering his room, handed him a note which
ran as follows:--"Sir,--I owe you an apology for the inconveniences to
which you were subjected last evening, and if you will honour us with
your presence to dinner to-day at four o'clock, I shall be most happy to
give you due satisfaction. My servant will be in waiting for you at
half-past three. I am, sir, your obedt. servant, J. Devenant. October
23, to George Green, Esq."
The servant who handed this note to Mr. Green, informed him that the
bearer was waiting for a reply. He immediately resolved to accept the
invitation, and replied accordingly. Who this person was, and how his
name and the hotel where he was stopping had been found out, was indeed
a mystery. However, he waited impatiently for the hour when he was to
see this new acquaintance, and get the mysterious meeting in the
grave-yard solved.
The clock on a neighbouring church had scarcely ceased striking three,
when the servant announced that a carriage had called for Mr. Green. In
less than half an hour, he was seated in a most sumptuous barouch, drawn
by two beautiful iron greys, and rolling along over a splendid gravel
road, completely shaded by large trees which appeared to have been the
accumulating growth of many centuries. The carriage soon stopped in
front of a low villa, and this too was imbedded in magnificent trees
covered with moss. Mr. Green alighted and was shown into a superb
drawing room, the walls of which were hung with fine specimens from the
hands of the great Italian painters, and one by a German artist
representing a beautiful monkish legend connected with "The Holy
Catherine," and illustrious lady of Alexandria. The furniture had an
antique and dignified appearance. High backed chairs stood around the
room; a venerable mirror stood on the mantle-shelf; rich curtains of
crimson damask hung in folds at either side of the large windows; and a
rich Turkey carpet covered the floor. In the centre stood a table
covered with books, in the midst of which was an old fashioned vase
filled with fresh flowers, whose fragrance was exceedingly pleasant. A
faint light, together with the quietness of the hour gave beauty beyond
description to the whole scene.
Mr. Green had scarcely seated himself upon the sofa, when the elderly
gentleman whom he had met the previous evening made his appearance,
followed by the little boy, and introduced himself as Mr. Devenant. A
moment more, and a lady--a beautiful brunette--dressed in black, with
long curls of a chesnut colour hanging down her cheeks, entered the
room. Her eyes were of a dark hazel, and her whole appearance indicated
that she was a native of a southern clime. The door at which she entered
was opposite to where the two gentlemen were seated. They immediately
rose; and Mr. Devenant was in the act of introducing her to Mr. Green,
when he observed that the latter had sunk back upon the sofa, and the
last word that he remembered to have heard was, "It is her." After this,
all was dark and dreamy: how long he remained in this condition it was
for another to tell. When he awoke, he found himself stretched upon the
sofa, with his boots off, his neckerchief removed, shirt collar
unbuttoned, and his head resting upon a pillow. By his side sat the old
man, with the smelling bottle in the one hand, and a glass of water in
the other, and the little boy standing at the foot of the sofa. As soon
as Mr. Green had so far recovered as to be able to speak, he said,
"Where am I, and what does this mean?" "Wait a while," replied the old
man, "and I will tell you all." After the lapse of some ten minutes he
rose from the sofa, adjusted his apparel, and said, "I am now ready to
hear anything you have to say." "You were born in America," said the old
man. "Yes," he replied. "And you were acquainted with a girl named
Mary," continued the old man. "Yes, and I loved her as I can love none
other." "The lady whom you met so mysteriously last evening is Mary,"
replied Mr. Devenant. George Green was silent, but the fountains of
mingled grief and joy stole out from beneath his eye lashes, and
glistened like pearls upon his pale and marble-like cheeks. At this
juncture the lady again entered the room. Mr. Green sprang from the
sofa, and they fell into each other's arms, to the surprise of the old
man and little George, and to the amusement of the servants who had
crept up one by one, and were hid behind the doors or loitering in the
hall. When they had given vent to their feelings, they resumed their
seats and each in turn related the adventures through which they had
passed. "How did you find out my name and address," asked Mr. Green?
"After you had left us in the grave-yard, our little George said, 'O,
mamma, if there aint a book!' and picked it up and brought it to us.
Papa opened it, and said 'the gentleman's name is written in it, and
here is a card of the Hotel de Leon, where I suppose he is stopping.'
Papa wished to leave the book, and said it was all a fancy of mine that
I had ever seen you before, but I was perfectly convinced that you were
my own George Green. Are you married?" "No, I am not." "Then, thank
God!" exclaimed Mrs. Devenant. The old man who had been silent all this
time, said, "Now, Sir, I must apologize for the trouble you were put to
last evening." "And you are single now." "Yes," she replied. "This is
indeed the Lord's doings," said Mr. Green, at the same time bursting
into a flood of tears. Although Mr. Devenant was past the age when men
should think upon matrimonial subjects, yet this scene brought vividly
before his eyes the days when he was a young man, and had a wife living,
and he thought it time to call their attention to dinner, which was
then waiting. We need scarcely add, that Mr. Green and Mrs. Devenant did
very little towards diminishing the dinner that day.
After dinner the lovers (for such we have to call them) gave their
experience from the time that George Green left the gaol, dressed in
Mary's clothes. Up to that time, Mr. Green's was substantially as we
have related it. Mrs. Devenant's was as follows:--"The night after you
left the prison," said she, "I did not shut my eyes in sleep. The next
morning, about 8 o'clock, Peter, the gardener, came to the gaol to see
if I had been there the night before, and was informed that I had, and
that I left a little after dark. About an hour after, Mr. Green came
himself, and I need not say that he was much surprised on finding me
there, dressed in your clothes. This was the first tidings they had of
your escape." "What did Mr. Green say when he found that I had fled?"
"O!" continued Mrs. Devenant, "he said to me when no one was near, I
hope George will get off, but I fear you will have to suffer in his
stead. I told him that if it must be so I was willing to die if you
could live." At this moment George Green burst into tears, threw his
arms around her neck, and exclaimed, "I am glad I have waited so long,
with the hope of meeting you again."
Mrs. Devenant again resumed her story:--"I was kept in gaol three days,
during which time I was visited by the Magistrates and two of the
Judges. On the third day I was taken out, and master told me that I was
liberated, upon condition that I be immediately sent out of the State.
There happened to be just at that time in the neighbourhood a
negro-trader, and he purchased me, and I was taken to New Orleans. On
the steam-boat we were kept in a close room where slaves are usually
confined, so that I saw nothing of the passengers on board or the towns
we passed. We arrived at New Orleans and were all put into the
slave-market for sale. I was examined by many persons, but none seemed
willing to purchase me; as all thought me too white, and said I would
run away and pass as a free white woman. On the second day while in the
slave-market, and while planters and others were examining slaves and
making their purchases, I observed a tall young man with long black hair
eyeing me very closely, and then talking to the trader. I felt sure that
my time had now come, but the day closed without my being sold. I did
not regret this, for I had heard that foreigners made the worst of
masters, and I felt confident that the man who eyed me so closely was
not an American.
"The next day was the Sabbath. The bells called the people to the
different places of worship. Methodists sang, and Baptists immersed, and
Presbyterians sprinkled, and Episcopalians read their prayers, while the
ministers of the various sects preached that Christ died for all; yet
there were some twenty-five or thirty of us poor creatures confined in
the '_Negro Pen_' awaiting the close of the Holy Sabbath, and the dawn
of another day, to be again taken into the market, there to be examined
like so many beasts of burden. I need not tell you with what anxiety we
waited for the advent of another day. On Monday we were again brought
out, and placed in rows to be inspected; and fortunately for me, I was
sold before we had been on the stand an hour. I was purchased by a
gentleman residing in the city, for a waiting-maid for his wife, who was
just on the eve of starting for Mobile, to pay a visit to a near
relation. I was then dressed to suit the situation of a maid-servant;
and, upon the whole, I thought that in my new dress I looked as much the
lady as my mistress.