_They were born as slaves, through the iniquity of men. They are
redeemed to be free men, through Christ Jesus._
There is a broad hall, situated in one of the most frequented streets
of a large and well-known city in the South. You will be astonished
when you shall find, in place of a lion’s den or a man-trap, a
nicely-fitted up refreshing-place. Nothing formidable is presented to
your eyes. Several corpulent and richly dressed gentlemen are helping
themselves to fine liquors and delicacies, profusely spread out before
you, and placed upon an elegantly shaped bar. Beautiful pictures,
ornamenting the walls, attract the eyes of some amateurs of art; while
others, preferring nice lots and buildings, are studying the designs of
several large maps, showing various city lots and splendid buildings,
advertised ‘for sale at auction.’ In the vicinity of said maps is a
platform, whereupon a table is placed, together with a writing-desk
and a few chairs. Two colored waiters are busy placing several hundred
commodious chairs, facing the platform. The doors of the hall open
frequently, for there are many gentlemen entering, and soon is gathered
a large assemblage, by whom the chairs are occupied. There you will
see the elegantly dressed dandy, smoking his sweet-scented Havana,
while examining, through his richly gilded eye-glass, the designs of
building lots. Next to his chair you will perceive and admire the
athletic form of a Kentucky trader, with his plain frock, and with his
boots reaching over his knees. There you will also see the rich and
proud planter from Mississippi, reasoning with his fierce-looking, but
now, before his employer, creeping overseer.
The doors are opened again. Four ladies, splendidly dressed in black
silk and satin, and glittering with precious jewels, are entering the
hall. Eight or ten gentlemen, who were already comfortably seated next
to the platform, jump up from their chairs, and politely offer their
seats to the fair guests.
But, you will ask, for what reason is all this going on? What are the
ladies and gentlemen waiting for? Perhaps it is court-day, and the
people are waiting for the Judge. It cannot be, for the court-house
is opposite the Square. Is it perhaps a prayer-meeting? Pshaw!
Prayer-meeting and liquor-bar--would that do?
But what can it be? Who is that jolly round gentleman, placing a large
book upon the writing-desk, and looking like a bird which has never
seen a cage, but which has its three meals per diem in the middle of a
ripe wheat field? Is it not a pleasure to take a glance at his face,
radiant with contentment and plenty? If that man were a pastor, should
we not like to pasture with his flock? See there! he hands now to the
waiters a large package of bills. We shall soon learn what kind of a
concern all this is. It will be, most probably, neither a session of a
court, nor a prayer-meeting.
A SLAVE AUCTION! Great God in heaven! a SLAVE AUCTION! And that man
upon the platform is the auctioneer!
What a noise is going on outside of the doors! There will, surely,
enter a troop of men, women and children. How will they find places
amongst the spectators of the tragedy which will soon commence?--for
every chair is occupied, and many men are leaning upon the bar. There
is room in front of the table, and near to the walls of the hall.
A gentleman is entering. The auctioneer hastens to receive him with
distinction, and conducts him to the chair behind the desk. The
stranger is an American gentleman, and owner of the slaves who are
now to be sold at auction. He owns a beautiful plantation, about
forty miles from the city, near the railroad. He intends to run as a
political candidate; he needs, therefore, money. He says he is ‘truly
sorry’ to be obliged to sell his slaves at auction. Why sorry? Because
his father raised most of them. They are ‘family slaves,’ and ‘very
likely indeed.’ He is a young man of about thirty years. He has a high
forehead, and an intelligent, upright face.
But why can he not take a glance at the assembled audience? What is the
matter with him, that he always bends his face over the desk, and that
he will not look up? Has he not a right to be proud, and shall not the
multitude envy the happy owner of a gang of one hundred and forty-nine
slaves? But we comprehend what is the matter with him. He pretends to
be a good Christian, and he is acquainted with the gospel; he therefore
knows what is right, and what is wrong. It is his conscience that
troubles him. His inner man is well aware that he is doing a heinous
crime to sell at auction one hundred and forty-nine fellow-beings,
redeemed by his Savior upon the Cross!
While we were regarding the man behind the desk, we never perceived
that the doors were re-opened, and that a large number of people had
entered the hall. There are men, women and children, and some babies
upon their mothers’ arms. Their color differs from that of the ladies
and gentlemen sitting upon the chairs. Some are black as ebony, some
brown, some yellow. There is also a beautiful young girl, nearly
white, and you would readily infer that she is of Spanish or French
blood. Not one among all of these poor creatures will raise his or
her head and eyes, to take a glance at the sitting assemblage. Some
poor girls are weeping audibly, and all are looking sad--sad--sad!
Reader, if you should happen to be of a gentle nature, take a glance
at the little babies upon the arms of their poor and distressed
mothers! Can babies feel their misery? Yes, indeed, they can. Every
mother will endorse my words. I shall never forget those looks of
deep sorrow, which I perceived in the faces of all those poor little
children upon the auction-stand. I know that they participated in
the distress of their mothers; I believe that they were conscious of
their horrible fate in that awful hour--to be sold for money to the
highest bidder! You, who have human feelings--you, who are no figures
of cold marble--contemplate each of these one hundred and forty-nine
descendants of Africa’s sons and daughters! Will you be still
indifferent towards that ‘institution’ which degrades men to beasts,
which is the deepest pit of barbarity?
But, you will say, are they not tolerably well dressed? And who would
say that their bodies have been worn out by hard labor, or by the
effect of hunger? No; it seems rather that their master had treated
them kindly, that they have seen but little trouble, but few hard
times. Why then are they looking grave and distressed, as if some heavy
misfortune had befallen them? Their knees tremble, as if they had the
foreboding of some awful calamity!
Yes, indeed, they have cause to tremble--they will not do wrong if they
cover their eyes (which are not their own)--they may bend down their
heads in deep mourning; for--reader! these one hundred and forty-nine
human souls shall be sold to-day as so many heads of cattle!
They have been taught the religion of freedom, the gospel of the only
Master in heaven and upon earth. They know that they ought to be free,
because they are Christians. They believe that the Son of God has
abolished slavery by his death upon the accursed tree. They were told
by their own master that they were made free through the merits of
the blood of Jesus Christ, and that they have a right to claim their
freedom for themselves and for their children.
Such are the teachings of the slaveholders in the slave States, but
they must themselves surely believe in a very different gospel from the
gospel of freedom, as given by the Nazarene!
To excuse themselves, they say that, through the curse of the patriarch
Noah, a whole race of men were made slaves forever. They are deaf to
the great truth, that, thousands of years after the death of Noah, the
great Liberator, JESUS CHRIST, appeared, and that he broke, by his
death upon the Cross, all chains of slavery forever!
Let us return to the table of barbarity, and we will follow the course
of proceedings at the public auction sale of one hundred and forty-nine
of our fellow-men.
The auctioneer stands upon the platform: he is ready to sell any of
these to the highest bidder for gold, silver, or approved paper. He
calls himself a Christian. He seems to have no idea that he is going
to perform an act which is the greatest blasphemy towards his Lord and
Master. Is not any man, pretending to be a Christian, and selling his
Christian brothers like horses, mules or dogs, a hypocrite? And is any
man, calling himself a disciple of Christ, but favoring and seconding
slave auctions, any better?
We will listen to the reading of the auctioneer, who is holding a paper
in his right hand:--‘I am authorized,’ he begins, ‘to sell at auction,
one hundred and forty-nine plantation negroes, comprising carpenters,
bricklayers, blacksmiths, coopers, drivers, house and field-hands.
Families will be sold in block. These slave have been raised, and the
larger portion of them were born on the estate of Minor R., Esq., who
is retiring from the plantation interest on the Beau-Bosquet Place. The
slaves are considered as one of the most valuable and healthy gangs
in the South. They will be guaranteed only in title. Terms of sale,
one-third cash, balance at one and two years’ credit, with interest
of six per cent. per annum, until final payment. If the terms of sale
are not completed within four days from date of sale, the slaves will
be resold, for account and risk of former purchasers, after two days’
advertisement in two of the city papers, without further notice of
legal default.’
No. 1. Harvey, field hand, about twenty years old. ‘Come up here, my
boy! There you are--bon! A capital boy! Ladies and gentlemen, look
here at this healthy child! Can any darkey upon God’s beautiful earth
beat him? Wouldn’t he whip Hercules, if that personage should happen
to be present? What a splendid fellow he is! The gentleman who will
buy Harvey will draw a lucky number. Who is going to bid? Go ahead,
gentlemen! Here is a capital opportunity.’
‘Eight hundred dollars.’
‘Pshaw! Eight hundred dollars? Why, twice as much shall never buy him;
he is fully worth two thousand dollars. Who will bid more?’
‘Nine hundred.’
‘Nine hundred dollars is no money for such a fellow, and if you will
pay every picayune twice, you can’t get him! Nine hundred for Harvey?
Gentlemen, you have had, probably, bad news to-day; or is the news
confirmed, and has the California steamer foundered? They say so, but
do not believe a word of it. I say it is safe! Nine hundred dollars for
Harvey!’
‘And fifty.’
‘Nine hundred and fifty dollars for Harvey, the most likely boy in the
noble and fair State of Louisiana! Ain’t it too bad? Who bids more?’
‘One thousand!’
‘Well, a little better! Go on, gentlemen, if you please. One
thousand--one thousand--one thousand dollars.’
‘And fifty.’
‘And fifty! My dear sir, do me a favor, and say at once two thousand.
And fifty--and fifty! Ten hundred and fifty dollars!’
‘Eleven hundred.’
‘Eleven hundred! Too little yet.’
‘Twenty dollars more.’
‘Sir? Twenty dol----. Pardon, excuse me, if I am truly astonished to
hear a gentleman bid twenty dollars for Harvey, the American Hercules!
Twenty hundred I would like it better.’
‘Twelve hundred and fifty.’
‘There is a generous gentleman! Sir, take my best wishes for your
welfare! Twelve hundred and fifty dollars----’
‘And fifty.’
‘Still better! And fifty! One thousand three hundred dollars!’
‘Fourteen hundred.’
‘Fourteen--thank you, sir, thank you! Fourteen hundred dollars!
Fourteen hundred! Fourteen---- Gentlemen, bid more, if you please!
Fourteen hundred dollars for Harvey are nothing. Fourteen----’
‘And fifty.’
‘Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars for a boy who is worth two
thousand! Gentlemen, here is a good chance to improve property!
Whoever will buy Harvey, shall own a fortune. Who is going to bid
more? Fourteen--fourteen hundred and fifty dollars--going? One
thousand four hundred and fifty dollars--dollars--dollars! Who
will bid more? Nobody? Nobody more? Fourteen hundred and fifty
dollars for the negro boy Harvey, the best field hand and the most
gentle boy amongst all the darkeys in the United States! Going--for
the first--second--who will say more? Fourteen hundred and fifty
dollars--going--going--going--gone!’
‘Go off, Harvey! Hurry yourself! Don’t believe your bones are made of
sugar and eggs.’
No. 2. Joseph, field hand, aged about seventeen.
‘Gentlemen, there is a young blood, and a capital one! He is a great
boy, a hand for almost every thing. Besides, he is the best dancer in
the whole lot, and he knows also how to pray--oh! so beautifully, you
would believe he was made to be a minister! How much will you bid for
him?’
‘One thousand dollars.’
‘Good--but that is not half the price he is really worth. Gentlemen,
if you will bid two thousand at once, it may not suffice to buy him.
One thousand dollars for a boy, who will be worth in three years
fully twenty-five hundred dollars cash down. Who is going to bid two
thousand?’
‘Twelve hundred dollars.’
‘Twelve hundred dollars! Sir, I did say, he would soon bring two
thousand. I am always pretty near certain of what I say. Twelve hundred
for Joseph! Splendid fellow that! Eleven hundred and eighty dollars
more than for his namesake of old in the land of Egypt. Twelve hundred
dollars! Gentlemen, bid more!’
‘Twelve hundred and fifty dollars.’
‘One thousand two hundred and fifty dollars! All right; but more! more!
more!’
‘And fifty.’
‘And fifty--and fifty--and fifty for Joseph--not the Hebrew.’
‘Thirteen hundred.’
‘Thirteen hundred--a bad number, gentlemen--don’t let him rest at
thirteen hundred.’
‘And fifty.’
‘Thirteen hundred and fifty is said to be a lucky number in lotteries.
I don’t know as it is true, but I do know that thirteen hundred and
fifty dollars will not buy Joseph.’
‘Fourteen hundred.’
‘Well, no ticket of any lottery will cost that much; but Joseph must
bring more. Fourteen hundred dollars!’
‘And fifty.’
‘One thousand four hundred and fifty dollars. It looks like rain; for
cash will not out, and I am unable to procure a magnet which will
draw gold for value received. Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars! Too
small an amount for Joseph. Seventeen years only--a strong, healthy,
fine-looking, intelligent boy. Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars!
Gentlemen, Joseph is worth more than Harvey--upon my word! One
thousand, four hundred and fifty--going! Fourteen hundred and fifty for
the first--second--going? Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars--going!
going! going! and last--gone! He is sold to you, sir! Please state your
name.’
No. 3. John Dowson, a carpenter, thirty-five years old, (afflicted with
slight hernia,) an intelligent-looking man, stands upon the platform.
But as the reader would get tired of listening to every word that the
auctioneer of human souls says, we will stay with some of the poor
creatures, merely giving the names, age, and the price of sale of the
rest. The above named John Dowson was sold for $1200.
No. 4. Alfred, cooper, (injured in left leg,) 19 years of age, a
strong and very honest-looking boy, brings $1550; a very small price
for a first-rate cooper, but surely the price of blood for a man and a
Christian!