CHAPTER I p. 67

A KEY

TO

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN;

PRESENTING THE ORIGINAL

FACTS AND DOCUMENTS

UPON WHICH THE STORY IS FOUNDED.

TOGETHER WITH

Corroborative Statements

VERIFYING

THE TRUTH OF THE WORK.

BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,

AUTHOR OF “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.”

BOSTON:

PUBLISHED BY JOHN P. JEWETT & CO.

CLEVELAND, OHIO:

JEWETT, PROCTOR & WORTHINGTON.

LONDON: LOW AND COMPANY.

1853.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the District of

Massachusetts.

STEREOTYPED BY

HOBART & ROBBINS,

NEW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDERY,

BOSTON.

Damrell & Moore, Printers, 16 Devonshire St., Boston.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREFACE.

The work which the writer here presents to the public is one which has

been written with no pleasure, and with much pain.

In fictitious writing, it is possible to find refuge from the hard and

the terrible, by inventing scenes and characters of a more pleasing

nature. No such resource is open in a work of fact; and the subject of

this work is one on which the truth, if told at all, must needs be very

dreadful. There is no bright side to slavery, as such. Those scenes

which are made bright by the generosity and kindness of masters and

mistresses, would be brighter still if the element of slavery were

withdrawn. There is nothing picturesque or beautiful, in the family

attachment of old servants, which is not to be found in countries where

these servants are legally free. The tenants on an English estate are

often more fond and faithful than if they were slaves. Slavery,

therefore, is not the element which forms the picturesque and beautiful

of Southern life. What is peculiar to slavery, and distinguishes it from

free servitude, is evil, and only evil, and that continually.

In preparing this work, it has grown much beyond the author’s original

design. It has so far overrun its limits that she has been obliged to

omit one whole department;—that of the characteristics and developments

of the colored race in various countries and circumstances. This is more

properly the subject for a volume; and she hopes that such an one will

soon be prepared by a friend to whom she has transferred her materials.

The author desires to express her thanks particularly to those legal

gentlemen who have given her their assistance and support in the legal

part of the discussion. She also desires to thank those, at the North

and at the South, who have kindly furnished materials for her use. Many

more have been supplied than could possibly be used. The book is

actually selected out of a mountain of materials.

The great object of the author in writing has been to bring this subject

of slavery, as a moral and religious question, before the minds of all

those who profess to be followers of Christ, in this country. A minute

history has been given of the action of the various denominations on

this subject.

The writer has aimed, as far as possible, to say what is true, and only

that, without regard to the effect which it may have upon any person or

party. She hopes that what she has said will be examined without

bitterness,—in that serious and earnest spirit which is appropriate for

the examination of so very serious a subject. It would be vain for her

to indulge the hope of being wholly free from error. In the wide field

which she has been called to go over, there is a possibility of many

mistakes. She can only say that she has used the most honest and earnest

endeavors to learn the truth.

The book is commended to the candid attention and earnest prayers of all

true Christians, throughout the world. May they unite their prayers that

Christendom may be delivered from so great an evil as slavery!

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

At different times, doubt has been expressed whether the representations

of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” are a fair representation of slavery as it at

present exists. This work, more, perhaps, than any other work of fiction

that ever was written, has been a collection and arrangement of real

incidents,—of actions really performed, of words and expressions really

uttered,—grouped together with reference to a general result, in the

same manner that the mosaic artist groups his fragments of various

stones into one general picture. His is a mosaic of gems,—this is a

mosaic of facts.

Artistically considered, it might not be best to point out in which

quarry and from which region each fragment of the mosaic picture had its

origin; and it is equally unartistic to disentangle the glittering web

of fiction, and show out of what real warp and woof it is woven, and

with what real coloring dyed. But the book had a purpose entirely

transcending the artistic one, and accordingly encounters, at the hands

of the public, demands not usually made on fictitious works. It is

_treated_ as a reality,—sifted, tried and tested, as a reality; and

therefore as a reality it may be proper that it should be defended.

The writer acknowledges that the book is a very inadequate

representation of slavery; and it is so, necessarily, for this

reason,—that slavery, in some of its workings, is too dreadful for the

purposes of art. A work which should represent it strictly as it is

would be a work which could not be read. And all works which ever mean

to give pleasure must draw a veil somewhere, or they cannot succeed.

The author will now proceed along the course of the story, from the

first page onward, and develop, as far as possible, the incidents by

which different parts were suggested.

CHAPTER II.

MR. HALEY.

In the very first chapter of the book we encounter the character of

the negro-trader, Mr. Haley. His name stands at the head of this

chapter as the representative of all the different characters

introduced in the work which exhibit the trader, the kidnapper, the

negro-catcher, the negro-whipper, and all the other inevitable

auxiliaries and indispensable appendages of what is often called the

“divinely-instituted relation” of slavery. The author’s first personal

observation of this class of beings was somewhat as follows:

Several years ago, while one morning employed in the duties of the

nursery, a colored woman was announced. She was ushered into the

nursery, and the author thought, on first survey, that a more surly,

unpromising face she had never seen. The woman was thoroughly black,

thick-set, firmly built, and with strongly-marked African features.

Those who have been accustomed to read the expressions of the African

face know what a peculiar effect is produced by a lowering, desponding

expression upon its dark features. It is like the shadow of a

thunder-cloud. Unlike her race generally, the woman did not smile when

smiled upon, nor utter any pleasant remark in reply to such as were

addressed to her. The youngest pet of the nursery, a boy about three

years old, walked up, and laid his little hand on her knee, and seemed

astonished not to meet the quick smile which the negro almost always has

in reserve for the little child. The writer thought her very cross and

disagreeable, and, after a few moments’ silence, asked, with perhaps a

little impatience, “Do you want anything of me to-day?”

“Here are some papers,” said the woman, pushing them towards her;

“perhaps you would read them.”

The first paper opened was a letter from a negro-trader in Kentucky,

stating concisely that he had waited about as long as he could for her

child; that he wanted to start for the South, and must get it off his

hands; that, if she would send him two hundred dollars before the end of

the week, she should have it; if not, that he would set it up at

auction, at the court-house door, on Saturday. He added, also, that he

might have got more than that for the child, but that he was willing to

let her have it cheap.

“What sort of a man is this?” said the author to the woman, when she had

done reading the letter.

“Dunno, ma’am; great Christian, I know,—member of the Methodist church,

anyhow.”

The expression of sullen irony with which this was said was a thing to

be remembered.

“And how old is this child?” said the author to her.

The woman looked at the little boy who had been standing at her knee,

with an expressive glance, and said, “She will be three years old this

summer.”

On further inquiry into the history of the woman, it appeared that she

had been set free by the will of her owners; that the child was legally

entitled to freedom, but had been seized on by the heirs of the estate.

She was poor and friendless, without money to maintain a suit, and the

heirs, of course, threw the child into the hands of the trader. The

necessary sum, it may be added, was all raised in the small neighborhood

which then surrounded the Lane Theological Seminary, and the child was

redeemed.

If the public would like a specimen of the correspondence which passes

between these worthies, who are the principal reliance of the community

for supporting and extending the institution of slavery, the following

may be interesting as a matter of literary curiosity. It was forwarded

by Mr. M. J. Thomas, of Philadelphia, to the _National Era_, and stated

by him to be “a copy taken verbatim from the original, found among the

papers of the person to whom it was addressed, at the time of his arrest

and conviction, for passing a variety of counterfeit bank-notes.”

_Poolsville, Montgomery Co., Md.,

March 24, 1831._

DEAR SIR: I arrived home in safety with Louisa, John having been

rescued from me, out of a two-story window, at twelve o’clock at

night. I offered a reward of fifty dollars, and have him here safe

in jail. The persons who took him brought him to Fredericktown jail.

I wish you to write to no person in this state but myself. Kephart

and myself are determined to go the whole hog for any negro you can

find, and you must give me the earliest information, as soon as you

do find any. Enclosed you will receive a handbill, and I can make a

good bargain, if you can find them. I will in all cases, as soon as

a negro runs off, send you a handbill immediately, so that you may

be on the look-out. Please tell the constable to go on with the sale

of John’s property; and, when the money is made, I will send on an

order to you for it. Please attend to this for me; likewise write to

me, and inform me of any negro you think has run away,—no matter

where you think he has come from, nor how far,—and I will try and

find out his master. Let me know where you think he is from, with

all particular marks, and if I don’t find his master, _Joe’s dead!_

Write to me about the crooked-fingered negro, and let me know which

hand and which finger, color, &c.; likewise any mark the fellow has

who says he got away from the negro-buyer, with his height and

color, or any other you think has run off.

Give my respects to your partner, and be sure you write to no person

but myself. If any person writes to you, you can inform me of it,

and I will try to _buy_ from them. I think we can make money, if we

do business together; for I have plenty of money, if you can find

plenty of negroes. Let me know if Daniel is still where he was, and

if you have heard anything of Francis since I left you. Accept for

yourself my regard and esteem.

REUBEN B. CARLLEY.

JOHN C. SAUNDERS.

This letter strikingly illustrates the character of these

fellow-patriots with whom the great men of our land have been acting in

conjunction, in carrying out the beneficent provisions of the Fugitive

Slave Law.

With regard to the _Kephart_ named in this letter the community of

Boston may have a special interest to know further particulars, as he

was one of the dignitaries sent from the South to assist the good

citizens of that place in the religious and patriotic enterprise of

1851, at the time that Shadrach was unfortunately rescued. It therefore

may be well to introduce somewhat particularly JOHN KEPHART, as sketched

by RICHARD H. DANA, Jr., one of the lawyers employed in the defence of

the perpetrators of the rescue.

I shall never forget John Caphart. I have been eleven years at the

bar, and in that time have seen many developments of vice and

hardness, but I never met with anything so cold-blooded as the

testimony of that man. John Caphart is a tall, sallow man, of about

fifty, with jet-black hair, a restless, dark eye, and an anxious,

care-worn look, which, had there been enough of moral element in the

expression, might be called melancholy. His frame was strong, and in

youth he had evidently been powerful, but he was not robust. Yet

there was a calm, cruel look, a power of will and a quickness of

muscular action, which still render him a terror in his vocation.

In the manner of giving in his testimony there was no bluster or

outward show of insolence. His contempt for the humane feelings of

the audience and community about him was too true to require any

assumption of that kind. He neither paraded nor attempted to conceal

the worst features of his calling. He treated it as a matter of

business which he knew the community shuddered at, but the moral

nature of which he was utterly indifferent to, beyond a certain

secret pleasure in thus indirectly inflicting a little torture on

his hearers.

I am not, however, altogether clear, to do John Caphart justice,

that he is entirely conscience-proof. There was something in his

anxious look which leaves one not without hope.

At the first trial we did not know of his pursuits, and he passed

merely as a police-man of Norfolk, Virginia. But, at the second

trial, some one in the room gave me a hint of the occupations many

of these police-men take to, which led to my cross-examination.

_From the Examination of John Caphart, in the “Rescue Trials,”

at Boston, in June and Nov., 1851, and October, 1852._

_Question._ Is it a part of your duty, as a police-man, to take up

colored persons who are out after hours in the streets?

_Answer._ Yes, sir.

_Q._ What is done with them?

_A._ We put them in the lock-up, and in the morning they are brought

into court and ordered to be punished,—those that are to be

punished.

_Q._ What punishment do they get?

_A._ Not exceeding thirty-nine lashes.

_Q._ Who gives them these lashes?

_A._ Any of the officers. I do, sometimes.

_Q._ Are you paid _extra_ for this? How much?

_A._ Fifty cents a head. It used to be sixty-two cents. Now it is

fifty. Fifty cents for each one we arrest, and fifty more for each

one we flog.

_Q._ Are these persons you flog men and boys only, or are they women

and girls also?

_A._ Men, women, boys and girls, just as it happens.

[The government interfered, and tried to prevent any further

examination; and said, among other things, that he only performed

his duty as police-officer under the law. After a discussion, Judge

Curtis allowed it to proceed.]

_Q._ Is your flogging confined to these cases? Do you not flog

slaves at the request of their masters?

_A._ Sometimes I do. Certainly, when I am called upon.

_Q._ In these cases of private flogging, are the negroes sent to

you? Have you a place for flogging?

_A._ No. I go round, as I am sent for.

_Q._ Is this part of your duty as an officer?

_A._ No, sir.

_Q._ In these cases of private flogging, do you inquire into the

circumstances, to see what the fault has been, or if there is any?

_A._ That’s none of my business. I do as I am requested. The master

is responsible.

_Q._ In these cases, too, I suppose you flog women and girls, as

well as men.

_A._ Women and men.

_Q._ Mr. Caphart, how long have you been engaged in this business?

_A._ Ever since 1836.

_Q._ How many negroes do you suppose you have flogged, in all, women

and children included?

_A._ [Looking calmly round the room.] I don’t know how many niggers

you have got here in Massachusetts, but I should think I had flogged

as many as you’ve got in the state.

[The same man testified that he was often employed to pursue

fugitive slaves. His reply to the question was, “I never refuse a

good job in that line.”]

_Q._ Don’t they sometimes turn out bad jobs?

_A._ Never, if I can help it.

_Q._ Are they not sometimes discharged after you get them?

_A._ Not often. I don’t know that they ever are, except those

Portuguese the counsel read about.

[I had found, in a Virginia report, a case of some two hundred

Portuguese negroes, whom this John Caphart had seized from a vessel,

and endeavored to get condemned as slaves, but whom the court

discharged.]

Hon. John P. Hale, associated with Mr. Dana, as counsel for the defence,

in the Rescue Trials, said of him, in his closing argument:

Why, gentlemen, _he sells agony_! Torture is his stock-in-trade! He

is a walking scourge! He hawks, peddles, retails, groans and tears

about the streets of Norfolk!

See also the following correspondence between two traders, one in North

Carolina, the other in New Orleans; with a word of comment, by Hon.

William Jay, of New York:

_Halifax, N. C., Nov. 16, 1839._

DEAR SIR: I have shipped in the brig Addison,—prices are below:

No. 1. Caroline Ennis, $650.00

No. 2. Silvy Holland, 625.00

No. 3. Silvy Booth, 487.50

No. 4. Maria Pollock, 475.00

No. 5. Emeline Pollock, 475.00

No. 6. Delia Averit, 475.00

The two girls that cost $650 and $625 were bought before I shipped

my first. I have a great many negroes offered to me, but I will not

pay the prices they ask, for I know they will come down. I have no

opposition in market. I will wait until I hear from you before I

buy, and then I can judge what I must pay. Goodwin will send you the

bill of lading for my negroes, as he shipped them with his own.

Write often, as the times are critical, and it depends on the prices

you get to govern me in buying. Yours, &c.,

G. W. BARNES.

Mr. THEOPHILUS FREEMAN, }

New Orleans. }

The above was a small but choice invoice of wives and mothers. Nine

days before, namely, 7th Nov., Mr. Barnes advised Mr. Freeman of

having shipped a lot of forty-three men and women. Mr. Freeman,

informing one of his correspondents of the state of the market,

writes (_Sunday_, 21st Sept., 1839), “I bought a boy yesterday,

sixteen years old, and likely, _weighing_ one hundred and ten

pounds, at $700. I sold a likely girl, twelve years old, at $500. I

bought a man yesterday, twenty years old, six feet high, at $820;

one _to-day_, twenty-four years old, at $850, black and sleek as a

mole.”

The writer has drawn in this work only one class of the negro-traders.

There are all varieties of them, up to the great wholesale purchasers,

who keep their large trading-houses; who are gentlemanly in manners and

courteous in address; who, in many respects, often perform actions of

real generosity; who consider slavery a very great evil, and hope the

country will at some time be delivered from it, but who think that so

long as clergyman and layman, saint and sinner, are all agreed in the

propriety and necessity of slave-holding, it is better that the

necessary trade in the article be conducted by men of humanity and

decency, than by swearing, brutal men, of the Tom Loker school. These

men are exceedingly sensitive with regard to what they consider the

injustice of the world in excluding them from good society, simply

because they undertake to supply a demand in the community which the

bar, the press and the pulpit, all pronounce to be a proper one. In this

respect, society certainly imitates the unreasonableness of the ancient

Egyptians, who employed a certain class of men to prepare dead bodies

for embalming, but flew at them with sticks and stones the moment the

operation was over, on account of the sacrilegious liberty which they

had taken. If there is an ill-used class of men in the world, it is

certainly the slave-traders; for, if there is no harm in the institution

of slavery,—if it is a divinely-appointed and honorable one, like civil

government and the family state, and like other species of property

relation,—then there is no earthly reason why a man may not as

innocently be a slave-trader as any other kind of trader.

CHAPTER III.

MR. AND MRS. SHELBY.

It was the design of the writer, in delineating the domestic

arrangements of Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, to show a picture of the fairest

side of slave-life, where easy indulgence and good-natured forbearance

are tempered by just discipline and religious instruction, skilfully and

judiciously imparted.

The writer did not come to her task without reading much upon both sides

of the question, and making a particular effort to collect all the most

favorable representations of slavery which she could obtain. And, as the

reader may have a curiosity to examine some of the documents, the writer

will present them quite at large. There is no kind of danger to the

world in letting the very fairest side of slavery be seen; in fact, the

horrors and barbarities which are necessarily inherent in it are so

terrible that one stands absolutely in need of all the comfort which can

be gained from incidents like the subjoined, to save them from utter

despair of human nature. The first account is from Mr. J. K. Paulding’s

Letters on Slavery; and is a letter from a Virginia planter, whom we

should judge, from his style, to be a very amiable, agreeable man, and

who probably describes very fairly the state of things on his own

domain.

DEAR SIR: As regards the first query, which relates to the “rights

and duties of the slave,” I do not know how extensive a view of this

branch of the subject is contemplated. In its simplest aspect, as

understood and acted on in Virginia, I should say that the slave is

entitled to an abundance of good plain food; to coarse but

comfortable apparel; to a warm but humble dwelling; to protection

when well, and to succor when sick; and, in return, that it is his

duty to render to his master all the service he can consistently

with perfect health, and to behave submissively and honestly. Other

remarks suggest themselves, but they will be more appropriately

introduced under different heads.

2d. “The domestic relations of master and slave.”—These relations

are much misunderstood by many persons at the North, who regard the

terms as synonymous with oppressor and oppressed. Nothing can be

further from the fact. The condition of the negroes in this state

has been greatly ameliorated. The proprietors were formerly fewer

and richer than at present. Distant quarters were often kept up to

support the aristocratic mansion. They were rarely visited by their

owners; and heartless overseers, frequently changed, were employed

to manage them for a share of the crop. These men scourged the land,

and sometimes the slaves. Their tenure was but for a year, and of

course they made the most of their brief authority. Owing to the

influence of our institutions, property has become subdivided, and

most persons live on or near their estates. There are exceptions, to

be sure, and particularly among wealthy gentlemen in the towns; but

these last are almost all enlightened and humane, and alike liberal

to the soil and to the slave who cultivates it. I could point out

some noble instances of patriotic and spirited improvement among

them. But, to return to the resident proprietors: most of them have

been raised on the estates; from the older negroes they have

received in infancy numberless acts of kindness; the younger ones

have not unfrequently been their playmates (not the most suitable, I

admit), and much good-will is thus generated on both sides. In

addition to this, most men feel attached to their property; and this

attachment is stronger in the case of persons than of things. I know

it, and feel it. It is true, there are harsh masters; but there are

also bad husbands and bad fathers. They are all exceptions to the

rule, not the rule itself. Shall we therefore condemn in the gross

those relations, and the rights and authority they imply, from their

occasional abuse? I could mention many instances of strong

attachment on the part of the slave, but will only adduce one or

two, of which I have been the object. It became a question whether a

faithful servant, bred up with me from boyhood, should give up his

master or his wife and children, to whom he was affectionately

attached, and most attentive and kind. The trial was a severe one,

but he determined to break those tender ties and remain with me. I

left it entirely to his discretion, though I would not, from

considerations of interest, have taken for him quadruple the price I

should probably have obtained. Fortunately, in the sequel, I was

enabled to purchase his family, with the exception of a daughter,

happily situated; and nothing but death shall henceforth part them.

Were it put to the test, I am convinced that many masters would

receive this striking proof of devotion. A gentleman but a day or

two since informed me of a similar, and even stronger case, afforded

by one of his slaves. As the reward of assiduous and delicate

attention to a venerated parent, in her last illness, I proposed to

purchase and liberate a healthy and intelligent woman, about thirty

years of age, the best nurse, and, in all respects, one of the best

servants in the state, of which I was only part owner; but she

declined to leave the family, and has been since rather better than

free. I shall be excused for stating a ludicrous case I heard of

some time ago:—A favorite and indulged servant requested his master

to sell him to another gentleman. His master refused to do so, but

told him he was at perfect liberty to go to the North, if he were

not already free enough. After a while he repeated the request; and,

on being urged to give an explanation of his singular conduct, told

his master that he considered himself consumptive, and would soon

die; and he thought Mr. B—— was better able to bear the loss than

his master. He was sent to a medicinal spring and recovered his

health, if, indeed, he had ever lost it, of which his master had

been unapprised. It may not be amiss to describe my deportment

towards my servants, whom I endeavor to render happy while I make

them profitable. I never turn a deaf ear, but listen patiently to

their communications. I chat familiarly with those who have passed

service, or have not begun to render it. With the others I observe a

more prudent reserve, but I encourage all to approach me without

awe. I hardly ever go to town without having commissions to execute

for some of them; and think they prefer to employ me, from a belief

that, if their money should not quite hold out, I would add a little

to it; and I not unfrequently do, in order to get a better article.

The relation between myself and my slaves is decidedly friendly. I

keep up pretty exact discipline, mingled with kindness, and hardly

ever lose property by thievish, or labor by runaway slaves. I never

lock the outer doors of my house. It is done, but done by the

servants; and I rarely bestow a thought on the matter. I leave home

periodically for two months, and commit the dwelling-house, plate,

and other valuables, to the servants, without even an enumeration of

the articles.

3d. “The duration of the labor of the slave.”—The day is usually

considered long enough. Employment at night is not exacted by me,

except to shell corn once a week for their own consumption, and on a

few other extraordinary occasions. _The people_, as we generally

call them, are required to leave their houses at daybreak, and to

work until dark, with the intermission of half an hour to an hour at

breakfast, and one to two hours at dinner, according to the season

and sort of work. In this respect I suppose our negroes will bear a

favorable comparison with any laborers whatever.

4th. “The liberty usually allowed the slave,—his holidays and

amusements, and the way in which they usually spend their evenings

and holidays.”—They are prohibited from going off the estate without

first obtaining leave; though they often transgress, and with

impunity, except in flagrant cases. Those who have wives on other

plantations visit them on certain specified nights, and have an

allowance of time for going and returning, proportioned to the

distance. My negroes are permitted, and, indeed, encouraged, to

raise as many ducks and chickens as they can; to cultivate

vegetables for their own use, and a patch of corn for sale; to

exercise their trades, when they possess one, which many do; to

catch muskrats and other animals for the fur or the flesh; to raise

bees, and, in fine, to earn an honest penny in any way which chance

or their own ingenuity may offer. The modes specified are, however,

those most commonly resorted to, and enable provident servants to

make from five to thirty dollars apiece. The corn is of a different

sort from that which I cultivate, and is all bought by me. A great

many fowls are raised; I have this year known ten dollars worth sold

by one man at one time. One of the chief sources of profit is the

fur of the muskrat; for the purpose of catching which the marshes on

the estate have been parcelled out and appropriated from time

immemorial, and are held by a tenure little short of fee-simple. The

negroes are indebted to Nat Turner[1] and Tappan for a curtailment

of some of their privileges. As a sincere friend to the blacks, I

have much regretted the reckless interference of these persons, on

account of the restrictions it has become, or been thought,

necessary to impose. Since the exploit of the former hero, they have

been forbidden to preach, except to their fellow-slaves, the

property of the same owner; to have public funerals, unless a white

person officiates; or to be taught to read and write. Their funerals

formerly gave them great satisfaction, and it was customary here to

furnish the relations of the deceased with bacon, spirit, flour,

sugar and butter, with which a grand entertainment, in their way,

was got up. We were once much amused by a hearty fellow requesting

his mistress to let him have his funeral during his lifetime, when

it would do him some good. The waggish request was granted; and I

venture to say there never was a funeral the subject of which

enjoyed it so much. When permitted, some of our negroes preached

with great fluency. I was present, a few years since, when an

Episcopal minister addressed the people, by appointment. On the

conclusion of an excellent sermon, a negro preacher rose and thanked

the gentleman kindly for his discourse, but frankly told him the

congregation “did not understand his _lingo_.” He then proceeded

himself, with great vehemence and volubility, coining words where

they had not been made to his hand, or rather his tongue, and

impressing his hearers, doubtless, with a decided opinion of his

superiority over his white co-laborer in the field of grace. My

brother and I, who own contiguous estates, have lately erected a

chapel on the line between them, and have employed an acceptable

minister of the Baptist persuasion, to which the negroes almost

exclusively belong, to afford them religious instruction. Except as

a preparatory step to emancipation, I consider it exceedingly

impolitic, even as regards the slaves themselves, to permit them to

read and write: “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.”

And it is certainly impolitic as regards their masters, on the

principle that “knowledge is power.” My servants have not as long

holidays as those of most other persons. I allow three days at

Christmas, and a day at each of three other periods, besides a

little time to work their patches; or, if very busy, I sometimes

prefer to work them myself. Most of the ancient pastimes have been

lost in this neighborhood, and religion, mock or real, has succeeded

them. The banjo, their national instrument, is known but in name, or

in a few of the tunes which have survived. Some of the younger

negroes sing and dance, but the evenings and holidays are usually

occupied in working, in visiting, and in praying and singing hymns.

The primitive customs and sports are, I believe, better preserved

further south, where slaves were brought from Africa long after they

ceased to come here.

6th. “The provision usually made for their food and clothing,—for

those who are too young or too old to labor.”—My men receive twelve

quarts of Indian meal (the abundant and universal allowance in this

state), seven salted herrings, and two pounds of smoked bacon or

three pounds of pork, a week; the other hands proportionally less.

But, generally speaking, their food is issued daily, with the

exception of meal, and consists of fish or bacon for breakfast, and

meat, fresh or salted, with vegetables whenever we can provide them,

for dinner; or, for a month or two in the spring, fresh fish cooked

with a little bacon. This mode is rather more expensive to me than

that of weekly rations, but more comfortable to the servants.

Superannuated or invalid slaves draw their provisions regularly once

a week; and the moment a child ceases to be nourished by its mother,

it receives eight quarts of meal (more than it can consume), and one

half-pound of lard. Besides the food furnished by me, nearly all the

servants are able to make some addition from their private stores;

and there is among the adults hardly an instance of one so

improvident as not to do it. He must be an unthrifty fellow, indeed,

who cannot realize the wish of the famous Henry IV. in regard to the

French peasantry, and enjoy his fowl on Sunday. I always keep on

hand, for the use of the negroes, sugar, molasses, &c., which,

though not regularly issued, are applied for on the slightest

pretexts, and frequently no pretext at all, and are never refused,

except in cases of misconduct. In regard to clothing:—the men and

boys receive a winter coat and trousers of strong cloth, three

shirts, a stout pair of shoes and socks, and a pair of summer

pantaloons, every year; a hat about every second year, and a

great-coat and blanket every third year. Instead of great-coats and

hats, the women have large capes to protect the bust in bad weather,

and handkerchiefs for the head. The articles furnished are good and

serviceable; and, with their own acquisitions, make their appearance

decent and respectable. On Sunday they are even fine. The aged and

invalid are clad as regularly as the rest, but less substantially.

Mothers receive a little raw cotton, in proportion to the number of

children, with the privilege of having the yarn, when spun, woven at

my expense. I provide them with blankets. Orphans are put with

careful women, and treated with tenderness. I am attached to the

little slaves, and encourage familiarity among them. Sometimes, when

I ride near the quarters, they come running after me with the most

whimsical requests, and are rendered happy by the distribution of

some little donation. The clothing described is that which is given

to the crop hands. Home-servants, a numerous class in Virginia, are

of course clad in a different and very superior manner. I neglected

to mention, in the proper place, that there are on each of my

plantations a kitchen, an oven, and one or more cooks; and that each

hand is furnished with a tin bucket for his food, which is carried

into the field by little negroes, who also supply the laborers with

water.

7th. “Their treatment when sick.”—My negroes go, or are carried, as

soon as they are attacked, to a spacious and well-ventilated

hospital, near the mansion-house. They are there received by an

attentive nurse, who has an assortment of medicine, additional

bed-clothing, and the command of as much light food as she may

require, either from the table or the store-room of the proprietor.

Wine, sago, rice, and other little comforts appertaining to such an

establishment, are always kept on hand. The condition of the sick is

much better than that of the poor whites or free colored people in

the neighborhood.

8th. “Their rewards and punishments.”—I occasionally bestow little

gratuities for good conduct, and particularly after harvest; and

hardly ever refuse a favor asked by those who faithfully perform

their duty. Vicious and idle servants are punished with stripes,

moderately inflicted; to which, in the case of theft, is added

privation of meat, a severe punishment to those who are never

suffered to be without it on any other account. From my limited

observation, I think that servants to the North work much harder

than our slaves. I was educated at a college in one of the free

states, and, on my return to Virginia, was struck with the contrast.

I was astonished at the number of idle domestics, and actually

worried my mother, much to my contrition since, to reduce the

establishment. I say to my contrition, because, after eighteen

years’ residence in the good Old Dominion, I find myself surrounded

by a troop of servants about as numerous as that against which I

formerly so loudly exclaimed. While on this subject it may not be

amiss to state a case of manumission which occurred about three

years since. My nearest neighbor, a man of immense wealth, owned a

favorite servant, a fine fellow, with polished manners and excellent

disposition, who reads and writes, and is thoroughly versed in the

duties of a butler and housekeeper, in the performance of which he

was trusted without limit. This man was, on the death of his master,

emancipated with a legacy of six thousand dollars, besides about two

thousand dollars more which he had been permitted to accumulate, and

had deposited with his master, who had given him credit for it. The

use that this man, apparently so well qualified for freedom, and who

has had an opportunity of travelling and of judging for himself,

makes of his money and his time, is somewhat remarkable. In

consequence of his exemplary conduct, he has been permitted to

reside in the state, and for very moderate wages occupies the same

situation he did in the old establishment, and will probably

continue to occupy it as long as he lives. He has no children of his

own, but has put a little girl, a relation of his, to school. Except

in this instance, and in the purchase of a few plain articles of

furniture, his freedom and his money seem not much to have benefited

him. A servant of mine, who is intimate with him, thinks he is not

as happy as he was before his liberation. Several other servants

were freed at the same time, with smaller legacies, but I do not

know what has become of them.

I do not regard negro-slavery, however mitigated, as a Utopian

system, and have not intended so to delineate it. But it exists, and

the difficulty of removing it is felt and acknowledged by all, save

the fanatics, who, like “fools, rush in where angels dare not

tread.” It is pleasing to know that its burdens are not too heavy to

be borne. That the treatment of slaves in this state is humane, and

even indulgent, may be inferred from the fact of their rapid

increase and great longevity. I believe that, constituted as they

are, morally and physically, they are as happy as any peasantry in

the world; and I venture to affirm, as the result of my reading and

inquiry, that in no country are the laborers so liberally and

invariably supplied with bread and meat as are the negro slaves of

the United States. However great the dearth of provisions, famine

never reaches them.

P. S.—It might have been stated above that on this estate there are

about one hundred and sixty blacks. With the exception of infants,

there has been, in eighteen months, but one death that I

remember,—that of a man fully sixty-five years of age. The bill for

medical attendance, from the second day of last November, comprising

upwards of a year, is less than forty dollars.

The following accounts are taken from “Ingraham’s Travels in the

South-west,” a work which seems to have been written as much to show the

beauties of slavery as anything else. Speaking of the state of things on

some Southern plantations, he gives the following pictures, which are

presented without note or comment:

The little candidates for “field honors” are useless articles on a

plantation during the first five or six years of their existence.

They are then to take their first lesson in the elementary part of

their education. When they have learned their manual alphabet

tolerably well, they are placed in the field to take a spell at

cotton-picking. The first day in the field is their proudest day.

The young negroes look forward to it with as much restlessness and

impatience as school-boys to a vacation. Black children are not put

to work so young as many children of poor parents in the North. It

is often the case that the children of the domestic servants become

pets in the house, and the playmates of the white children of the

family. No scene can be livelier or more interesting to a

Northerner, than that which the negro quarters of a well-regulated

plantation present on a Sabbath morning, just before church-hours.

In every cabin the men are shaving and dressing; the women, arrayed

in their gay muslins, are arranging their frizzly hair,—in which

they take no little pride,—or investigating the condition of their

children; the old people, neatly clothed, are quietly conversing or

smoking about the doors; and those of the younger portion who are

not undergoing the infliction of the wash-tub are enjoying

themselves in the shade of the trees, or around some little pond,

with as much zest as though slavery and freedom were synonymous

terms. When all are dressed, and the hour arrives for worship, they

lock up their cabins, and the whole population of the little village

proceeds to the chapel, where divine service is performed, sometimes

by an officiating clergyman, and often by the planter himself, if a

church-member. The whole plantation is also frequently formed into a

Sabbath class, which is instructed by the planter, or some member of

his family; and often, such is the anxiety of the master that they

should perfectly understand what they are taught,—a hard matter in

the present state of their intellect,—that no means calculated to

advance their progress are left untried. I was not long since shown

a manuscript catechism, drawn up with great care and judgment by a

distinguished planter, on a plan admirably adapted to the

comprehension of the negroes.

It is now popular to treat slaves with kindness; and those planters

who are known to be inhumanly rigorous to their slaves are scarcely

countenanced by the more intelligent and humane portion of the

community. Such instances, however, are very rare; but there are

unprincipled men everywhere, who will give vent to their ill

feelings and bad passions, not with less good will upon the back of

an indented apprentice, than upon that of a purchased slave. Private

chapels are now introduced upon most of the plantations of the more

wealthy, which are far from any church; Sabbath-schools are

instituted for the black children, and Bible-classes for the

parents, which are superintended by the planter, a chaplain, or some

of the female members of the family.

Nor are planters indifferent to the comfort of their gray-headed

slaves. I have been much affected at beholding many exhibitions of

their kindly feeling towards them. They always address them in a

mild and pleasant manner, as “Uncle,” or “Aunty,”—titles as peculiar

to the old negro and negress as “boy” and “girl” to all under forty

years of age. Some old Africans are allowed to spend their last

years in their houses, without doing any kind of labor; these, if

not too infirm, cultivate little patches of ground, on which they

raise a few vegetables,—for vegetables grow nearly all the year

round in this climate,—and make a little money to purchase a few

extra comforts. They are also always receiving presents from their

masters and mistresses, and the negroes on the estate, the latter of

whom are extremely desirous of seeing the old people comfortable. A

relation of the extra comforts which some planters allow their

slaves would hardly obtain credit at the North. But you must

recollect that Southern planters are men, and men of feeling,

generous and high-minded, and possessing as much of the “milk of

human kindness” as the sons of colder climes—although they may have

been educated to regard that as right which a different education

has led Northerners to consider wrong.

With regard to the character of Mrs. Shelby the writer must say a few

words. While travelling in Kentucky, a few years since, some pious

ladies expressed to her the same sentiments with regard to slavery which

the reader has heard expressed by Mrs. Shelby.

There are many whose natural sense of justice cannot be made to tolerate

the enormities of the system, even though they hear it defended by

clergymen from the pulpit, and see it countenanced by all that is most

honorable in rank and wealth.

A pious lady said to the author, with regard to instructing her slaves,

“I am ashamed to teach them what is right; I know that they know as well

as I do that it is wrong to hold them as slaves, and I am ashamed to

look them in the face.” Pointing to an intelligent mulatto woman who

passed through the room, she continued, “Now, there’s B——. She is as

intelligent and capable as any white woman I ever knew, and as well able

to have her liberty and take care of herself; and she knows it isn’t

right to keep her as we do, and I know it too; and yet I cannot get my

husband to think as I do, or I should be glad to set them free.”

A venerable friend of the writer, a lady born and educated a

slave-holder, used to the writer the very words attributed to Mrs.

Shelby:—“I never thought it was right to hold slaves. I always thought

it was wrong when I was a girl, and I thought so still more when I came

to join the church.” An incident related by this friend of her

examination for the church shows in a striking manner what a difference

may often exist between theoretical and practical benevolence.

A certain class of theologians in America have advocated the doctrine of

disinterested benevolence with such zeal as to make it an imperative

article of belief that every individual ought to be willing to endure

everlasting misery, if by doing so they could, on the whole, produce a

greater amount of general good in the universe; and the inquiry was

sometimes made of candidates for church-membership whether they could

bring themselves to this point, as a test of their sincerity. The

clergyman who was to examine this lady was particularly interested in

these speculations. When he came to inquire of her with regard to her

views as to the obligations of Christianity, she informed him decidedly

that she had brought her mind to the point of emancipating all her

slaves, of whom she had a large number. The clergyman seemed rather to

consider this as an excess of zeal, and recommended that she should take

time to reflect upon it. He was, however, very urgent to know whether,

if it should appear for the greatest good of the universe, she would be

willing to be damned. Entirely unaccustomed to theological speculations,

the good woman answered, with some vehemence, that “she was sure she was

not;” adding, naturally enough, that if that had been her purpose she

need not have come to join the church. The good lady, however, was

admitted, and proved her devotion to the general good by the more

tangible method of setting all her slaves at liberty, and carefully

watching over their education and interests after they were liberated.

Mrs. Shelby is a fair type of the very best class of Southern women; and

while the evils of the institution are felt and deplored, and while the

world looks with just indignation on the national support and patronage

which is given to it, and on the men who, knowing its nature,

deliberately make efforts to perpetuate and extend it, it is but justice

that it should bear in mind the virtues of such persons.

Many of them, surrounded by circumstances over which they can have no

control, perplexed by domestic cares of which women in free states can

have very little conception, loaded down by duties and responsibilities

which wear upon the very springs of life, still go on bravely and

patiently from day to day, doing all they can to alleviate what they

cannot prevent, and, as far as the sphere of their own immediate power

extends, rescuing those who are dependent upon them from the evils of

the system.

We read of Him who shall at last come to judgment, that “His fan is in

his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat

into the garner.” Out of the great abyss of national sin he will rescue

every grain of good and honest purpose and intention. His eyes, which

are as a flame of fire, penetrate at once those intricate mazes where

human judgment is lost, and will save and honor at last the truly good

and sincere, however they may have been involved with the evil; and such

souls as have resisted the greatest temptations, and persisted in good

under the most perplexing circumstances, are those of whom he has

written, “And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day

when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them as a man spareth his own

son that serveth him.”

-----

Footnote 1:

The leader of the insurrection in lower Virginia, in which upwards of

a hundred white persons, principally women and children, were

massacred in cold blood.

CHAPTER IV.

GEORGE HARRIS.

The character of George Harris has been represented as overdrawn, both

as respects personal qualities and general intelligence. It has been

said, too, that so many afflictive incidents happening to a slave are

improbable, and present a distorted view of the institution.

In regard to person, it must be remembered that the half-breeds often

inherit, to a great degree, the traits of their white ancestors. For

this there is abundant evidence in the advertisements of the papers.

Witness the following from the _Chattanooga_ (Tenn.) _Gazette_, Oct.

5th, 1852:

$500 REWARD.

[Illustration]

Runaway from the subscriber, on the 25th May, a VERY BRIGHT MULATTO

BOY, about 21 or 22 years old, named WASH. Said boy, without close

observation, might pass himself for a white man, as he is very

bright—has sandy hair, blue eyes, and a fine set of teeth. He is an

excellent bricklayer; but I have no idea that he will pursue his

trade, for fear of detection. Although he is like a white man in

appearance, he has the disposition of a negro, and delights in comic

songs and witty expressions. He is an excellent house servant, very

handy about a hotel,—tall, slender, and has rather a down look,

especially when spoken to, and is sometimes inclined to be sulky. I

have no doubt but he has been decoyed off by some scoundrel, and I

will give the above reward for the apprehension of the boy and

thief, if delivered at Chattanooga. Or, I will give $200 for the boy

alone; or $100 if confined in any jail in the United States, so that

I can get him.

GEORGE O. RAGLAND.

_Chattanooga, June 15, 1852._

From the _Capitolian Vis-a-vis_, West Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Nov. 1,

1852:

$150 REWARD.

Runaway about the 15th of August last, _Joe_, a yellow man; small,

about 5 feet 8 or 9 inches high, and about 20 years of age. _Has a

Roman nose_, was raised in New Orleans, and _speaks French and

English_. He was bought last winter of Mr. Digges, Banks Arcade, New

Orleans.

In regard to general intelligence, the reader will recollect that the

writer stated it as a fact which she learned while on a journey through

Kentucky, that a young colored man invented a machine for cleaning hemp,

like that alluded to in her story.

Advertisements, also, occasionally propose for sale artisans of

different descriptions. Slaves are often employed as pilots for vessels,

and highly valued for their skill and knowledge. The following are

advertisements from recent newspapers.

From the _South Carolinian_ (Columbia), Dec. 4th, 1852:

VALUABLE NEGROES AT AUCTION.

BY J. & L. T. LEVIN.

WILL be sold, on MONDAY, the 6th day of December, the following

valuable NEGROES:

Andrew, 24 years of age, a bricklayer and plasterer, and thorough

workman.

George, 22 years of age, one of the best barbers in the State.

James, 19 years of age, an excellent painter.

These boys were raised in Columbia, and are exceptions to most of

boys, and are sold for no fault whatever.

The terms of sale are one-half cash, the balance on a credit of six

months, with interest, for notes payable at bank, with two or more

approved endorsers.

Purchasers to pay for necessary papers.

WILLIAM DOUGLASS.

_November 27, 36._

From the same paper, of November 18th, 1852:

Will be sold at private sale, a LIKELY MAN, boat hand, and good

pilot; is well acquainted with all the inlets between here and

Savannah and Georgetown.

With regard to the incidents of George Harris’ life, that he may not be

supposed a purely exceptional case, we propose to offer some parallel

facts from the lives of slaves of our personal acquaintance.

Lewis Clark is an acquaintance of the writer. Soon after his escape from

slavery, he was received into the family of a sister-in-law of the

author, and there educated. His conduct during this time was such as to

win for him uncommon affection and respect, and the author has

frequently heard him spoken of in the highest terms by all who knew him.

The gentleman in whose family he so long resided says of him, in a

recent letter to the writer, “I would trust him, as the saying is, with

untold gold.”

Lewis is a quadroon, a fine-looking man, with European features, hair

slightly wavy, and with an intelligent, agreeable expression of

countenance.

The reader is now desired to compare the following incidents of his

life, part of which he related personally to the author, with the

incidents of the life of George Harris.

His mother was a handsome quadroon woman, the daughter of her master,

and given by him in marriage to a free white man, a Scotchman, with the

express understanding that she and her children were to be free. This

engagement, if made sincerely at all, was never complied with. His

mother had nine children, and, on the death of her husband, came back,

with all these children, as slaves in her father’s house.

A married daughter of the family, who was the dread of the whole

household, on account of the violence of her temper, had taken from the

family, upon her marriage, a young girl. By the violence of her abuse

she soon reduced the child to a state of idiocy, and then came

imperiously back to her father’s establishment, declaring that the child

was good for nothing, and that she would have another; and, as poor

Lewis’ evil star would have it, fixed her eye upon him.

To avoid one of her terrible outbreaks of temper, the family offered up

this boy as a pacificatory sacrifice. The incident is thus described by

Lewis, in a published narrative:

Every boy was ordered in, to pass before this female sorceress, that

she might select a victim for her unprovoked malice, and on whom to

pour the vials of her wrath for years. I was that unlucky fellow.

Mr. Campbell, my grandfather, objected, because it would divide a

family, and offered her Moses; * * * but objections and claims of

every kind were swept away by the wild passion and shrill-toned

voice of Mrs. B. Me she would have, and none else. Mr. Campbell went

out to hunt, and drive away bad thoughts; the old lady became quiet,

for she was sure none of her blood run in my veins, and, if there

was any of her husband’s there, it was no fault of hers.

Slave-holding women are always revengeful toward the children of

slaves that have any of the blood of their husbands in them. I was

too young—only seven years of age—to understand what was going on.

But my poor and affectionate mother understood and appreciated it

all. When she left the kitchen of the mansion-house, where she was

employed as cook, and came home to her own little cottage, the tear

of anguish was in her eye, and the image of sorrow upon every

feature of her face. She knew the female Nero whose rod was now to

be over me. That night sleep departed from her eyes. With the

youngest child clasped firmly to her bosom, she spent the night in

walking the floor, coming ever and anon to lift up the clothes and

look at me and my poor brother, who lay sleeping together.

_Sleeping_, I said. Brother slept, but not I. I saw my mother when

she first came to me, and I could not sleep. The vision of that

night—its deep, ineffaceable impression—is now before my mind with

all the distinctness of yesterday. In the morning I was put into the

carriage with Mrs. B. and her children, and my weary pilgrimage of

suffering was fairly begun.

Mrs. Banton is a character that can only exist where the laws of the

land clothe with absolute power the coarsest, most brutal and

violent-tempered, equally with the most generous and humane.

If irresponsible power is a trial to the virtue of the most watchful and

careful, how fast must it develop cruelty in those who are naturally

violent and brutal!

This woman was united to a drunken husband, of a temper equally

ferocious. A recital of all the physical torture which this pair

contrived to inflict on a hapless child, some of which have left

ineffaceable marks on his person, would be too trying to humanity, and

we gladly draw a veil over it.

Some incidents, however, are presented in the following extracts:

A very trivial offence was sufficient to call forth a great burst of

indignation from this woman of ungoverned passions. In my

simplicity, I put my lips to the same vessel, and drank out of it,

from which her children were accustomed to drink. She expressed her

utter abhorrence of such an act by throwing my head violently back,

and dashing into my face two dippers of water. The shower of water

was followed by a heavier shower of _kicks_; but the words, bitter

and cutting, that followed, were like a storm of hail upon my young

heart. “She would teach me better manners than that; she would let

me know I was to be brought up to her hand; she would have _one_

slave that knew his place; if I wanted water, go to the spring, and

not drink there in the house.” This was new times for me; for some

days I was completely benumbed with my sorrow.

* * * * *

If there be one so lost to all feeling as even to say that the

slaves do not suffer when _families_ are separated, let such a one

go to the ragged quilt which was my couch and pillow, and stand

there night after night, for long, weary hours, and see the bitter

tears streaming down the face of that more than orphan boy, while

with half-suppressed sighs and sobs he calls again and again upon

his absent mother.

“Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?

Hovered thy spirit o’er thy sorrowing son?

Wretch even _then_! life’s journey just begun.”

He was employed till late at night in spinning flax or rocking the baby,

and called at a very early hour in the morning; and if he did not start

at the first summons, a cruel chastisement was sure to follow. He says:

Such horror has seized me, lest I might not hear the first shrill

call, that I have often in dreams fancied I heard that unwelcome

voice, and have leaped from my couch and walked through the house

and out of it before I awoke. I have gone and called the other

slaves, in my sleep, and asked them if they did not hear master

call. Never, while I live, will the remembrance of those long,

bitter nights of fear pass from my mind.

He adds to this words which should be deeply pondered by those who lay

the flattering unction to their souls that the oppressed do not feel the

sundering of family ties.

But all my severe labor, and bitter and cruel punishments, for these

ten years of captivity with this worse than Arab family, all these

were as nothing to the sufferings I experienced by being separated

from my mother, brothers and sisters; the same things, with them

near to sympathize with me, to hear my story of sorrow, would have

been comparatively tolerable.

They were distant only about thirty miles; and yet, in ten long,

lonely years of childhood, I was only permitted to see them three

times.

My mother occasionally found an opportunity to send me some token of

remembrance and affection,—a sugar-plum or an apple; but I scarcely

ever ate them; they were laid up, and handled and wept over, till

they wasted away in my hand.

My thoughts continually by day, and my dreams by night, were of

mother and home; and the horror experienced in the morning, when I

awoke and behold it was a dream, is beyond the power of language to

describe.

Lewis had a beautiful sister by the name of Delia, who, on the death of

her grandfather, was sold, with all the other children of his mother,

for the purpose of dividing the estate. She was a pious girl, a member

of the Baptist church. She fell into the hands of a brutal, drunken man,

who wished to make her his mistress. Milton Clark, a brother of Lewis,

in the narrative of his life describes the scene where he, with his

mother, stood at the door while this girl was brutally whipped before it

for wishing to conform to the principles of her Christian profession. As

her resolution was unconquerable, she was placed in a coffle and sent

down to the New Orleans market. Here she was sold to a Frenchman, named

Coval. He took her to Mexico, emancipated and married her. After

residing some time in France and the West Indies with him, he died,

leaving her a fortune of twenty or thirty thousand dollars. At her death

she endeavored to leave this by will to purchase the freedom of her

brothers; but, as a slave cannot take property, or even have it left in

trust for him, they never received any of it.

The incidents of the recovery of Lewis’ freedom are thus told:

I had long thought and dreamed of LIBERTY. I was now determined to

make an effort to gain it. No tongue can tell the doubt, the

perplexities, the anxiety, which a slave feels, when making up his

mind upon this subject. If he makes an effort, and is not

successful, he must be laughed at by his fellows, he will be beaten

unmercifully by the master, and then watched and used the harder for

it all his life.

And then, if he gets away, _who_, _what_ will he find? He is

ignorant of the world. All the white part of mankind, that he has

ever seen, are enemies to him and all his kindred. How can he

venture where none but white faces shall greet him? The master tells

him that abolitionists _decoy_ slaves off into the free states to

catch them and sell them to Louisiana or Mississippi; and, if he

goes to Canada, the British will put him in a _mine under ground,

with both eyes put out, for life_. How does he know what or whom to

believe? A horror of great darkness comes upon him, as he thinks

over what may befall him. Long, very long time did I think of

escaping, before I made the effort.

At length, the report was started that I was to be sold for

Louisiana. Then I thought it was time to act. My mind was made up.

* * * * *

What my feelings were when I reached the free shore can be better

imagined than described. I trembled all over with deep emotion, and

I could feel my hair rise up on my head. I was on what was called a

_free_ soil, among a people who had no slaves. I saw white men at

work, and no slave smarting beneath the lash. Everything was indeed

_new_ and wonderful. Not knowing where to find a friend, and being

ignorant of the country, unwilling to inquire, lest I should betray

my ignorance, it was a whole week before I reached Cincinnati. At

one place where I put up, I had a great many more questions put to

me than I wished to answer. At another place, I was very much

annoyed by the officiousness of the landlord, who made it a point to

supply every guest with newspapers. I took the copy handed me, and

turned it over, in a somewhat awkward manner, I suppose. He came to

me to point out a veto, or some other very important news. I thought

it best to decline his assistance, and gave up the paper, saying my

eyes were not in a fit condition to read much.

At another place, the neighbors, on learning that a Kentuckian was

at the tavern, came, in great earnestness, to find out what my

business was. Kentuckians sometimes came there to kidnap their

citizens. They were in the habit of watching them close. I at length

satisfied them by assuring them that I was not, nor my father before

me, any slave-holder at all; but, lest their suspicions should be

excited in another direction, I added my grandfather was a

slave-holder.

* * * * *

At daylight we were in Canada. When I stepped ashore here, I said,

sure enough, I AM FREE. Good heavens! what a sensation, when it

first visits the bosom of a full-grown man; one _born_ to bondage;

one who had been taught, from early infancy, that this was his

inevitable lot for life! Not till _then_ did I dare to cherish, for

a moment, the feeling that _one_ of the limbs of my body was my own.

The slaves often say, when cut in the hand or foot, “Plague on the

old foot” or “the old hand! It is master’s,—let him take care of it.

Nigger don’t care if he never get well.” My hands, my feet, were now

my own.

It will be recollected that George, in conversing with Eliza, gives an

account of a scene in which he was violently beaten by his master’s

young son. This incident was suggested by the following letter from John

M. Nelson to Mr. Theodore Weld, given in _Slavery as It Is_, p. 51.

Mr. Nelson removed from Virginia to Highland County, Ohio, many years

since, where he is extensively known and respected. The letter is dated

January 3d, 1839.

I was born and raised in Augusta County, Virginia; my father was an

elder in the Presbyterian church, and was “owner” of about twenty

slaves; he was what was generally termed a “good master.” His slaves

were generally tolerably well fed and clothed, and not over-worked;

they were sometimes permitted to attend church, and called in to

family worship; few of them, however, availed themselves of these

privileges. On _some occasions_ I have seen him whip them severely,

particularly for the crime of trying to obtain their liberty, or for

what was called “running away.” For _this_ they were scourged more

severely than for anything else. After they have been retaken I have

seen them stripped naked and suspended by the hands, sometimes to a

tree, sometimes to a post, until their toes barely touched the

ground, and whipped with a cowhide until the blood dripped from

their backs. A boy named Jack, particularly, I have seen served in

this way more than once. When I was quite a child, I recollect it

grieved me very much to see one _tied up_ to be whipped, and I used

to intercede with tears in their behalf, and mingle my cries with

theirs, and feel almost willing to take part of the punishment; I

have been severely rebuked by my father for this kind of sympathy.

Yet, such is the hardening nature of such scenes, that from this

kind of commiseration for the suffering slave I became so blunted

that I could not only witness their stripes with composure but

_myself_ inflict them, and that without remorse. One case I have

often looked back to with sorrow and contrition, particularly since

I have been convinced that “negroes are men.” When I was perhaps

fourteen or fifteen years of age, I undertook to correct a young

fellow named Ned, for some supposed offence,—I think it was leaving

a bridle out of its proper place; he, being larger and stronger than

myself, took hold of my arms and held me, in order to prevent my

striking him. This I considered the height of insolence, and cried

for help, when my father and mother both came running to my rescue.

My father stripped and tied him, and took him into the orchard,

where switches were plenty, and directed me to whip him; when one

switch wore out, he supplied me with others. After I had whipped him

a while, he fell on his knees to implore forgiveness, and I kicked

him in the face; my father said, “Don’t kick him, but whip him;”

this I did until his back was literally covered with _welts_. I know

I have repented, and trust I have obtained pardon for these things.

My father owned a woman (we used to call aunt Grace); she was

purchased in Old Virginia. She has told me that her old master, in

his _will_, gave her her freedom, but at his death his sons had sold

her to my father: when he bought her she manifested some

unwillingness to go with him, when she was put in irons and taken by

force. This was before I was born; but I remember to have seen the

irons, and was told that was what they had been used for. Aunt Grace

is still living, and must be between seventy and eighty years of

age; she has, for the last forty years, been an exemplary Christian.

When I was a youth I took some pains to learn her to read; this is

now a great consolation to her. Since age and infirmity have

rendered her of little value to her “owners,” she is permitted to

read as much as she pleases; this she can do, with the aid of

glasses, in the old family Bible, which is almost the only book she

has ever looked into. This, with some little mending for the black

children, is all she does; she is still held as a slave. I well

remember what _a heart-rending scene_ there was in the family when

_my father sold her husband_; this was, I suppose, thirty-five years

ago. And yet my father was considered one of the best of masters. I

know of few who were better, but of _many_ who were worse.

With regard to the intelligence of George, and his teaching himself to

read and write, there is a most interesting and affecting parallel to it

in the “Life of Frederick Douglass,”—a book which can be recommended to

any one who has a curiosity to trace the workings of an intelligent and

active mind through all the squalid misery, degradation and oppression,

of slavery. A few incidents will be given.

Like Clark, Douglass was the son of a white man. He was a plantation

slave in a proud old family. His situation, probably, may be considered

as an average one; that is to say, he led a life of dirt, degradation,

discomfort of various kinds, made tolerable as a matter of daily habit,

and considered as enviable in comparison with the lot of those who

suffer worse abuse. An incident which Douglass relates of his mother is

touching. He states that it is customary at an early age to separate

mothers from their children, for the purpose of blunting and deadening

natural affection. When he was three years old his mother was sent to

work on a plantation eight or ten miles distant, and after that he never

saw her except in the night. After her day’s toil she would occasionally

walk over to her child, lie down with him in her arms, hush him to sleep

in her bosom, then rise up and walk back again to be ready for her field

work by daylight. Now, we ask the highest-born lady in England or

America, who is a mother, whether this does not show that this poor

field-laborer had in her bosom, beneath her dirt and rags, a true

mother’s heart?

The last and bitterest indignity which has been heaped on the head of

the unhappy slaves has been the denial to them of those holy affections

which God gives alike to all. We are told, in fine phrase, by languid

ladies of fashion, that “it is not to be supposed that those creatures

have the same feelings that we have,” when, perhaps, the very speaker

could not endure one tithe of the fatigue and suffering which the

slave-mother often bears for her child. Every mother who has a mother’s

heart within her, ought to know that this is blasphemy against nature,

and, standing between the cradle of her living and the grave of her dead

child, should indignantly reject such a slander on all motherhood.

Douglass thus relates the account of his learning to read, after he had

been removed to the situation of house-servant in Baltimore.

It seems that his mistress, newly married and unaccustomed to the

management of slaves, was very kind to him, and, among other acts of

kindness, commenced teaching him to read. His master, discovering what

was going on, he says,

At once forbade Mrs. Auld to instruct me further, telling her, among

other things, that it was unlawful, as well as unsafe, to teach a

slave to read. To use his own words, further, he said, “If you give

a nigger an inch, he will take an ell. A nigger should know nothing

but to obey his master—to do as he is told to do. Learning would

_spoil_ the best nigger in the world. Now,” said he, “if you teach

that nigger (speaking of myself) how to read, there would be no

keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at

once become unmanageable, and of no value to his master. As to

himself, it could do him no good, but a great deal of harm. It would

make him discontented and unhappy.” There words sank deep into my

heart, stirred up sentiments within that lay slumbering, and called

into existence an entirely new train of thought. It was a new and

special revelation, explaining dark and mysterious things, with

which my youthful understanding had struggled, but struggled in

vain. I now understood what had been to me a most perplexing

difficulty—to wit, the white man’s power to enslave the black man.

It was a grand achievement, and I prized it highly. From that

moment, I understood the pathway from slavery to freedom.

After this, his mistress was as watchful to prevent his learning to read

as she had before been to instruct him. His course after this he thus

describes:

From this time I was most narrowly watched. If I was in a separate

room any considerable length of time, I was sure to be suspected of

having a book, and was at once called to give an account of myself.

All this, however, was too late. The first step had been taken.

Mistress, in teaching me the alphabet, had given me the _inch_, and

no precaution could prevent me from taking the _ell_.

The plan which I adopted, and the one by which I was most

successful, was that of making friends of all the little white boys

whom I met in the street. As many of these as I could I converted

into teachers. With their kindly aid, obtained at different times

and in different places, I finally succeeded in learning to read.

When I was sent of errands I always took my book with me, and by

going one part of my errand quickly, I found time to get a lesson

before my return. I used also to carry bread with me, enough of

which was always in the house, and to which I was always welcome;

for I was much better off in this regard than many of the poor white

children in our neighborhood. This bread I used to bestow upon the

hungry little urchins, who, in return, would give me that more

valuable bread of knowledge. I am strongly tempted to give the names

of two or three of those little boys, as a testimonial of the

gratitude and affection I bear them; but prudence forbids;—not that

it would injure me, but it might embarrass them; for it is almost an

unpardonable offence to teach slaves to read in this Christian

country. It is enough to say of the dear little fellows, that they

lived on Philpot-street, very near Durgin and Bailey’s ship-yard. I

used to talk this matter of slavery over with them. I would

sometimes say to them I wished I could be as free as they would be

when they got to be men. “You will be free as soon as you are

twenty-one, _but I am a slave for life_! Have not I as good a right

to be free as you have?” These words used to trouble them; they

would express for me the liveliest sympathy, and console me with the

hope that something would occur by which I might be free.

I was now about twelve years old, and the thought of being _a slave

for life_ began to bear heavily upon my heart. Just about this time

I got hold of a book entitled “The Columbian Orator.” Every

opportunity I got I used to read this book. Among much of other

interesting matter, I found in it a dialogue between a master and

his slave. The slave was represented as having run away from his

master three times. The dialogue represented the conversation which

took place between them when the slave was retaken the third time.

In this dialogue, the whole argument in behalf of slavery was

brought forward by the master, all of which was disposed of by the

slave. The slave was made to say some very smart as well as

impressive things in reply to his master—things which had the

desired though unexpected effect; for the conversation resulted in

the voluntary emancipation of the slave on the part of the master.

In the same book I met with one of Sheridan’s mighty speeches on and

in behalf of Catholic emancipation. These were choice documents to

me. I read them over and over again, with unabated interest. They

gave tongue to interesting thoughts of my own soul, which had

frequently flashed through my mind, and died away for want of

utterance. The moral which I gained from the dialogue was the power

of truth over the conscience of even a slave-holder. What I got from

Sheridan was a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful

vindication of human rights. The reading of these documents enabled

me to utter my thoughts, and to meet the arguments brought forward

to sustain slavery; but, while they relieved me of one difficulty,

they brought on another even more painful than the one of which I

was relieved. The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and

detest my enslavers. I could regard them in no other light than a

band of successful robbers, who had left their homes, and gone to

Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and in a strange land reduced

us to slavery. I loathed them as being the meanest as well as the

most wicked of men. As I read and contemplated the subject, behold!

that very discontentment which Master Hugh had predicted would

follow my learning to read had already come, to torment and sting my

soul to unutterable anguish. As I writhed under it, I would at times

feel that learning to read had been a curse rather than a blessing.

It had given me a view of my wretched condition without the remedy.

It opened my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder upon which

to get out. In moments of agony I envied my fellow-slaves for their

stupidity. I have often wished myself a beast. I preferred the

condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Anything, no matter

what, to get rid of thinking! It was this everlasting thinking of my

condition that tormented me. There was no getting rid of it. It was

pressed upon me by every object within sight or hearing, animate or

inanimate. The silver trump of freedom had roused my soul to eternal

wakefulness. Freedom now appeared, to disappear no more forever. It

was heard in every sound, and seen in every thing. It was ever

present to torment me with a sense of my wretched condition. I saw

nothing without seeing it, I heard nothing without hearing it, and

felt nothing without feeling it. It looked from every star, it

smiled in every calm, breathed in every wind, and moved in every

storm.

I often found myself regretting my own existence, and wishing myself

dead; and but for the hope of being free, I have no doubt but that I

should have killed myself, or done something for which I should have

been killed. While in this state of mind I was eager to hear any one

speak of slavery. I was a ready listener. Every little while I could

hear something about the abolitionists. It was some time before I

found what the word meant. It was always used in such connections as

to make it an interesting word to me. If a slave ran away and

succeeded in getting clear, or if a slave killed his master, set

fire to a barn, or did anything very wrong in the mind of a

slave-holder, it was spoken of as the fruit of _abolition_. Hearing

the word in this connection very often, I set about learning what it

meant. The dictionary afforded me little or no help. I found it was

“the act of abolishing;” but then I did not know what was to be

abolished. Here I was perplexed. I did not dare to ask any one about

its meaning, for I was satisfied that it was something they wanted

me to know very little about. After a patient waiting, I got one of

our city papers, containing an account of the number of petitions

from the North praying for the abolition of slavery in the District

of Columbia, and of the slave-trade between the states. From this

time I understood the words _abolition_ and _abolitionist_, and

always drew near when that word was spoken, expecting to hear

something of importance to myself and fellow-slaves. The light broke

in upon me by degrees. I went one day down on the wharf of Mr.

Waters; and, seeing two Irishmen unloading a scow of stone, I went,

unasked, and helped them. When we had finished, one of them came to

me and asked me if I were a slave. I told him I was. He asked, “Are

ye a slave for life?” I told him that I was. The good Irishman

seemed to be deeply affected by the statement. He said to the other

that it was a pity so fine a little fellow as myself should be a

slave for life. He said it was a shame to hold me. They both advised

me to run away to the North; that I should find friends there, and

that I should be free. I pretended not to be interested in what they

said, and treated them as if I did not understand them; for I feared

they might be treacherous. White men have been known to encourage

slaves to escape, and then, to get the reward, catch them and return

them to their masters. I was afraid that these seemingly good men

might use me so; but I nevertheless remembered their advice, and

from that time I resolved to run away. I looked forward to a time at

which it would be safe for me to escape. I was too young to think of

doing so immediately; besides, I wished to learn how to write, as I

might have occasion to write my own pass. I consoled myself with the

hope that I should one day find a good chance. Meanwhile I would

learn to write.

The idea as to how I might learn to write was suggested to me by

being in Durgin and Bailey’s ship-yard, and frequently seeing the

ship carpenters, after hewing and getting a piece of timber ready

for use, write on the timber the name of that part of the ship for

which it was intended. When a piece of timber was intended for the

larboard side it would be marked thus—“L.” When a piece was for the

starboard side it would be marked thus—“S.” A piece for the larboard

side forward would be marked thus—“L. F.” When a piece was for

starboard side forward it would be marked thus—“S. F.” For larboard

aft it would be marked thus—“L. A.” For starboard aft it would be

marked thus—“S. A.” I soon learned the names of these letters, and

for what they were intended when placed upon a piece of timber in

the ship-yard. I immediately commenced copying them, and in a short

time was able to make the four letters named. After that, when I met

with any boy who I knew could write, I would tell him I could write

as well as he. The next word would be, “I don’t believe you. Let me

see you try it.” I would then make the letters which I had been so

fortunate as to learn, and ask him to beat that. In this way I got a

good many lessons in writing, which it is quite possible I should

never have gotten in any other way. During this time my copy-book

was the board fence, brick wall and pavement; my pen and ink was a

lump of chalk. With these I learned mainly how to write. I then

commenced and continued copying the Italics in Webster’s

Spelling-book, until I could make them all without looking on the

book. By this time my little Master Thomas had gone to school and

learned how to write, and had written over a number of copy-books.

These had been brought home, and shown to some of our near

neighbors, and then laid aside. My mistress used to go to

class-meeting at the Wilk-street meeting-house every Monday

afternoon, and leave me to take care of the house. When left thus I

used to spend the time in writing in the spaces left in Master

Thomas’ copy-book, copying what he had written. I continued to do

this until I could write a hand very similar to that of Master

Thomas. Thus, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally

succeeded in learning how to write.

These few quoted incidents will show that the case of George Harris is

by no means so uncommon as might be supposed.

Let the reader peruse the account which George Harris gives of the sale

of his mother and her children, and then read the following account

given by the venerable Josiah Henson, now pastor of the missionary

settlement at Dawn, in Canada.

After the death of his master, he says, the slaves of the plantation

were all put up at auction and sold to the highest bidder.

My brothers and sisters were bid off one by one, while my mother,

holding my hand, looked on in an agony of grief, the cause of which

I but ill understood at first, but which dawned on my mind with

dreadful clearness as the sale proceeded. My mother was then

separated from me, and put up in her turn. She was bought by a man

named Isaac R., residing in Montgomery County [Maryland], and then I

was offered to the assembled purchasers. My mother, half distracted

with the parting forever from all her children, pushed through the

crowd, while the bidding for me was going on, to the spot where R.

was standing. She fell at his feet, and clung to his knees,

entreating him, in tones that a mother only could command, to buy

her _baby_ as well as herself, and spare to her one of her little

ones at least. Will it, can it be believed, that this man, thus

appealed to, was capable not merely of turning a deaf ear to her

supplication, but of disengaging himself from her with such violent

blows and kicks as to reduce her to the necessity of creeping out of

his reach, and mingling the groan of bodily suffering with the sob

of a breaking heart?

Now, all these incidents that have been given are _real_ incidents of

slavery, related by those who know slavery by the best of all

tests—experience; and they are given by men who have earned a character

in freedom which makes their word as good as the word of any man living.

The case of Lewis Clark might be called a harder one than common. The

case of Douglass is probably a very fair average specimen.

The writer has conversed, in her time, with a very considerable number

of liberated slaves, many of whom stated that their own individual lot

had been comparatively a mild one; but she never talked with one who did

not let fall, first or last, some incident which he had observed, some

scene which he had witnessed, which went to show some most horrible

abuse of the system; and, what was most affecting about it, the narrator

often evidently considered it so much a matter of course as to mention

it incidentally, without any particular emotion.

It is supposed by many that the great outcry among those who are opposed

to slavery comes from a morbid reading of unauthenticated accounts

gotten up in abolition papers, &c. This idea is a very mistaken one. The

accounts which tell against the slave-system are derived from the

continual living testimony of the poor slave himself; often from that of

the fugitives from slavery who are continually passing through our

Northern cities.

As a specimen of some of the incidents thus developed, is given the

following fact of recent occurrence, related to the author by a lady in

Boston. This lady, who was much in the habit of visiting the poor, was

sent for, a month or two since, to see a mulatto woman who had just

arrived at a colored boarding-house near by, and who appeared to be in

much dejection of mind. A little conversation showed her to be a

fugitive. Her history was as follows: She, with her brother, were, as is

often the case, both the children and slaves of their master. At his

death they were left to his legitimate daughter as her servants, and

treated with as much consideration as very common kind of people might

be expected to show to those who were entirely and in every respect at

their disposal.

The wife of her brother ran away to Canada; and as there was some talk

of selling her and her child, in consequence of some embarrassment in

the family affairs, her brother, a fine-spirited young man, determined

to effect her escape, also, to a land of liberty. He concealed her for

some time in the back part of an obscure dwelling in the city, till he

could find an opportunity to send her off. While she was in this

retreat, he was indefatigable in his attentions to her, frequently

bringing her fruit and flowers, and doing everything he could to beguile

the weariness of her imprisonment.

At length, the steward of a vessel, whom he had obliged, offered to

conceal him on board the ship, and give him a chance to escape. The

noble-hearted fellow, though tempted by an offer which would enable him

immediately to join his wife, to whom he was tenderly attached,

preferred to give this offer to his sister, and during the absence of

the captain of the vessel she and her child were brought on board and

secreted.

The captain, when he returned and discovered what had been done, was

very angry, as the thing, if detected, would have involved him in very

serious difficulties. He declared, at first, that he would send the

woman up into town to jail; but, by her entreaties and those of the

steward, was induced to wait till evening, and send word to her brother

to come and take her back. After dark the brother came on board, and,

instead of taking his sister away, began to appeal to the humanity of

the captain in the most moving terms. He told his sister’s history and

his own, and pleaded eloquently his desire for her liberty. The captain

had determined to be obdurate, but, alas! he was only a man. Perhaps he

had himself a wife and child,—perhaps he felt that, were he in the young

man’s case, he would do just so for his sister. Be it as it may, he was

at last overcome. He said to the young man, “I must send you away from

my ship; I’ll put off a boat and see you got into it, and you must row

off, and never let me see your faces again; and if, after all, you

should come back and get on board, it will be your fault, and not mine.”

So, in the rain and darkness, the young man and his sister and child

were lowered over the side of the vessel, and rowed away. After a while

the ship weighed anchor, but before she reached Boston it was discovered

that the woman and child were on board.

The lady to whom this story was related was requested to write a letter,

in certain terms, to a person in the city whence the fugitive had come,

to let the brother know of her safe arrival.

The fugitive was furnished with work, by which she could support herself

and child, and the lady carefully attended to her wants for a few weeks.

One morning she came in, with a good deal of agitation, exclaiming, “O,

ma’am, he’s come! George is come!” And in a few minutes the young man

was introduced.

The lady who gave this relation belongs to the first circles of Boston

society; she says that she never was more impressed by the personal

manners of any gentleman than by those of this fugitive brother. So much

did he have the air of a perfect, finished gentleman, that she felt she

could not question him with regard to his escape with the familiarity

with which persons of his condition are commonly approached; and it was

not till he requested her to write a letter for him, because he could

not write himself, that she could realize that this fine specimen of

manhood had been all his life a slave.

The remainder of the history is no less romantic. The lady had a friend

in Montreal, whither George’s wife had gone; and, after furnishing money

to pay their expenses, she presented them with a letter to this

gentleman, requesting the latter to assist the young man in finding his

wife. When they landed at Montreal, George stepped on shore and

presented this letter to the first man he met, asking him if he knew to

whom it was directed. The gentleman proved to be the very person to whom

the letter was addressed. He knew George’s wife, brought him to her

without delay, so that, by return mail, the lady had the satisfaction of

learning the happy termination of the adventure.

This is but a specimen of histories which are continually transpiring;

so that those who speak of slavery can say, “We speak that which we do

know, and testify that we have seen.”

But we shall be told the slaves are all a lying race, and that these are

lies which they tell us. There are some things, however, about these

slaves, which cannot lie. Those deep lines of patient sorrow upon the

face; that attitude of crouching and humble subjection; that sad,

habitual expression of hope deferred, in the eye,—would tell their

story, if the slave never spoke.

It is not long since the writer has seen faces such as might haunt one’s

dreams for weeks.

Suppose a poor, worn-out mother, sickly, feeble and old,—her hands worn

to the bone with hard, unpaid toil,—whose nine children have been sold

to the slave-trader, and whose tenth soon is to be sold, unless by her

labor as washerwoman she can raise nine hundred dollars! Such are the

kind of cases constantly coming to one’s knowledge,—such are the

witnesses which will not let us sleep.

Doubt has been expressed whether such a thing as an advertisement for a

man, “_dead or alive_,” like the advertisement for George Harris, was

ever published in the Southern States. The scene of the story in which

that occurs is supposed to be laid a few years back, at the time when

the black laws of Ohio were passed. That at this time such

advertisements were common in the newspapers, there is abundant

evidence. That they are less common now, is a matter of hope and

gratulation.

In the year 1839, Mr. Theodore D. Weld made a systematic attempt to

collect and arrange the statistics of slavery. A mass of facts and

statistics was gathered, which were authenticated with the most

unquestionable accuracy. Some of the “one thousand witnesses,” whom he

brings upon the stand, were ministers, lawyers, merchants, and men of

various other callings, who were either natives of the slave states, or

had been residents there for many years of their life. Many of these

were slave-holders. Others of the witnesses were, or had been,

slave-drivers, or officers of coasting-vessels engaged in the

slave-trade.

Another part of his evidence was gathered from public speeches in

Congress, in the state legislatures, and elsewhere. But the majority of

it was taken from recent newspapers.

The papers from which these facts were copied were preserved and put on

file in a public place, where they remained for some years, for the

information of the curious. After Mr. Weld’s book was completed, a copy

of it was sent, through the mail, to every editor from whose paper such

advertisements had been taken, and to every individual of whom any facts

had been narrated, with the passages which concerned them marked.

It is quite possible that this may have had some influence in rendering

such advertisements less common. Men of sense often go on doing a thing

which is very absurd, or even inhuman, simply because it has always been

done before them, and they follow general custom, without much

reflection. When their attention, however, is called to it by a stranger

who sees the thing from another point of view, they become immediately

sensible of the impropriety of the practice, and discontinue it. The

reader will, however, be pained to notice, when he comes to the legal

part of the book, that even in some of the largest cities of our slave

states this barbarity had not been entirely discontinued, in the year

1850.

The list of advertisements in Mr. Weld’s book is here inserted, not to

weary the reader with its painful details, but that, by running his eye

over the dates of the papers quoted, and the places of their

publication, he may form a fair estimate of the extent to which this

atrocity was _publicly_ practised:

The _Wilmington_ (North Carolina) _Advertiser_ of July 13, 1838,

contains the following advertisement:

“$100 will be paid to any person who may apprehend and safely

confine in any jail in this state a certain negro man, named ALFRED.

And the same reward will be paid, if satisfactory evidence is given

of _his having been_ KILLED. He has one or more scars on one of his

hands, caused by his having been shot.

THE CITIZENS OF ONSLOW.

“_Richlands, Onslow Co., May 16, 1838._”

In the same column with the above, and directly under it, is the

following:

“RANAWAY, my negro man RICHARD. A reward of $25 will be paid for his

apprehension, DEAD or ALIVE. Satisfactory proof will only be

required of his being KILLED. He has with him, in all probability,

his wife, ELIZA, who ran away from Col. Thompson, now a resident of

Alabama, about the time he commenced his journey to that state.

DURANT H. RHODES.”

In the _Macon_ (Georgia) _Telegraph_, May 28, is the following:

“About the 1st of March last the negro man RANSOM left me without

the least provocation whatever; I will give a reward of twenty

dollars for said negro, if taken, DEAD OR ALIVE,—and if killed in

any attempt, an advance of five dollars will be paid.

BRYANT JOHNSON.

“_Crawford Co., Georgia._”

See the _Newbern_ (N. C.) _Spectator_, Jan. 5, 1838, for the following:

“RANAWAY from the subscriber, a negro man named SAMPSON. Fifty

dollars reward will be given for the delivery of him to me, or his

confinement in any jail, so that I get him; and should he resist in

being taken, so that violence is necessary to arrest him, I will not

hold any person liable for damages should the slave be KILLED.

ENOCH FOY.

“_Jones Co., N. C._”

From the _Charleston_ (S. C.) _Courier_, Feb. 20, 1836:

“$300 REWARD.—Ranaway from the subscriber, in November last, his two

negro men named Billy and Pompey.

“Billy is 25 years old, and is known as the patroon of my boat for

many years; in all probability he may resist; in that event 50

dollars will be paid for his HEAD.”

CHAPTER V.

ELIZA.

The writer stated in her book that Eliza was a portrait drawn from life.

The incident which brought the original to her notice may be simply

narrated.

While the writer was travelling in Kentucky, many years ago, she

attended church in a small country town. While there, her attention was

called to a beautiful quadroon girl, who sat in one of the slips of the

church, and appeared to have charge of some young children. The

description of Eliza may suffice for a description of her. When the

author returned from church, she inquired about the girl, and was told

that she was as good and amiable as she was beautiful; that she was a

pious girl, and a member of the church; and, finally, that she was

_owned_ by Mr. So-and-so. The idea that this girl was a slave struck a

chill to her heart, and she said, earnestly, “O, I hope they treat her

kindly.”

“O, certainly,” was the reply; “they think as much of her as of their

own children.”

“I hope they will never sell her,” said a person in the company.

“Certainly they will not; a Southern gentleman, not long ago, offered

her master a thousand dollars for her: but he told him that she was too

good to be his wife, and he certainly should not have her for a

mistress.”

This is all that the writer knows of that girl.

With regard to the incident of Eliza’s crossing the river on the ice,—as

the possibility of the thing has been disputed,—the writer gives the

following circumstance in confirmation.

Last spring, while the author was in New York, a Presbyterian clergyman,

of Ohio, came to her, and said, “I understand they dispute that fact

about the woman’s crossing the river. Now, I know all about that, for I

got the story from the very man that helped her up the bank. I know it

is true, for she is now living in Canada.”

It has been objected that the representation of the scene in which the

plan for kidnapping Eliza, concocted by Haley, Marks and Loker, at the

tavern, is a gross caricature on the state of things in Ohio.

What knowledge the author has had of the facilities which some justices

of the peace, under the old fugitive law of Ohio, were in the habit of

giving to kidnapping, may be inferred by comparing the statement in her

book with some in her personal knowledge.

“Ye see,” said Marks to Haley, stirring his punch as he did so, “ye

see, we has justices convenient at all p’ints along shore, that does

up any little jobs in our line quite reasonable. Tom, he does the

knockin’ down, and that ar; and I come in all dressed up,—shining

boots,—everything first chop,—when the swearin’ ‘s to be done. You

oughter see me, now!” said Marks, in a glow of professional pride,

“how I can tone it off. One day I’m Mr. Twickem, from New Orleans;

‘nother day, I’m just come from my plantation on Pearl river, where

I works seven hundred niggers; then, again, I come out a distant

relation to Henry Clay, or some old cock in Kentuck. Talents is

different, you know. Now, Tom’s a roarer when there’s any thumping

or fighting to be done; but at lying he an’t good, Tom an’t; ye see

it don’t come natural to him; but, Lord! if thar’s a feller in the

country that can swear to anything and everything, and put in all

the circumstances and flourishes with a longer face, and carry’t

through better’n I can, why, I’d like to see him, that’s all! I

b’lieve, my heart, I could get along, and make through, even if

justices were more particular than they is. Sometimes I rather wish

they was more particular; ‘twould be a heap more relishin’ if they

was,—more fun, yer know.”

In the year 1839, the writer received into her family, as a servant, a

girl from Kentucky. She had been the slave of one of the lowest and most

brutal families, with whom she had been brought up, in a log-cabin, in a

state of half-barbarism. In proceeding to give her religious

instruction, the author heard, for the first time in her life, an

inquiry which she had not supposed possible to be made in America:—“Who

is Jesus Christ, now, anyhow?”

When the author told her the history of the love and life and death of

Christ, the girl seemed wholly overcome; tears streamed down her cheeks;

and she exclaimed, piteously, “Why didn’t nobody never tell me this

before?”

“But,” said the writer to her, “haven’t you ever seen the Bible?”

“Yes, I have seen missus a-readin’ on’t sometimes; but, law sakes! she’s

just a-readin’ on’t ‘cause she could; don’t s’pose it did her no good,

no way.”

She said she had been to one or two camp-meetings in her life, but

“didn’t notice very particular.”

At all events, the story certainly made great impression on her, and had

such an effect in improving her conduct, that the writer had great hopes

of her.

On inquiring into her history, it was discovered that, by the laws of

Ohio, she was legally entitled to her freedom, from the fact of her

having been brought into the state, and left there, temporarily, by the

consent of her mistress. These facts being properly authenticated before

the proper authorities, papers attesting her freedom were drawn up, and

it was now supposed that all danger of pursuit was over. After she had

remained in the family for some months, word was sent, from various

sources, to Professor Stowe, that the girl’s young master was over,

looking for her, and that, if care were not taken, she would be conveyed

back into slavery.

Professor Stowe called on the magistrate who had authenticated her

papers, and inquired whether they were not sufficient to protect her.

The reply was, “Certainly they are, in law, if she could have a fair

hearing; but they will come to your house in the night, with an officer

and a warrant; they will take her before Justice D——, and swear to her.

He’s the man that does all this kind of business, and, he’ll deliver her

up, and there’ll be an end to it.”

Mr. Stowe then inquired what could be done; and was recommended to carry

her to some place of security till the inquiry for her was over.

Accordingly, that night, a brother of the author, with Professor Stowe,

performed for the fugitive that office which the senator is represented

as performing for Eliza. They drove about ten miles on a solitary road,

crossed the creek at a very dangerous fording, and presented themselves,

at midnight, at the house of John Van Zandt, a noble-minded Kentuckian,

who had performed the good deed which the author, in her story, ascribes

to Van Tromp.

After some rapping at the door, the worthy owner of the mansion

appeared, candle in hand, as has been narrated.

“Are you the man that would save a poor colored girl from kidnappers?”

was the first question.

“Guess I am,” was the prompt response; “where is she?”

“Why, she’s here.”

“But how did you come?”

“I crossed the creek.”

“Why, the Lord helped you!” said he; “I shouldn’t dare cross it myself

in the night. A man and his wife, and five children, were drowned there,

a little while ago.”

The reader may be interested to know that the poor girl never was

retaken; that she married well in Cincinnati, is a very respectable

woman, and the mother of a large family of children.

CHAPTER VI.

UNCLE TOM.

The character of Uncle Tom has been objected to as improbable; and yet

the writer has received more confirmations of that character, and from a

greater variety of sources, than of any other in the book.

Many people have said to her, “I knew an Uncle Tom in such and such a

Southern State.” All the histories of this kind which have thus been

related to her would of themselves, if collected, make a small volume.

The author will relate a few of them.

While visiting in an obscure town in Maine, in the family of a friend,

the conversation happened to turn upon this subject, and the gentleman

with whose family she was staying related the following. He said that,

when on a visit to his brother, in New Orleans, some years before, he

found in his possession a most valuable negro man, of such remarkable

probity and honesty that his brother literally trusted him with all he

had. He had frequently seen him take out a handful of bills, without

looking at them, and hand them to this servant, bidding him go and

provide what was necessary for the family, and bring him the change. He

remonstrated with his brother on this imprudence; but the latter replied

that he had had such proof of this servant’s impregnable

conscientiousness that he felt it safe to trust him to any extent.

The history of the servant was this. He had belonged to a man in

Baltimore, who, having a general prejudice against all the religious

exercises of slaves, did all that he could to prevent his having any

time for devotional duties, and strictly forbade him to read the Bible

and pray, either by himself, or with the other servants; and because,

like a certain man of old, named Daniel, he constantly disobeyed this

unchristian edict, his master inflicted upon him that punishment which a

master always has in his power to inflict,—he sold him into perpetual

exile from his wife and children, down to New Orleans.

The gentleman who gave the writer this information says that, although

not himself a religious man at the time, he was so struck with the man’s

piety that he said to his brother, “I hope you will never do anything to

deprive this man of his religious privileges, for I think a judgment

will come upon you if you do.” To this his brother replied that he

should be very foolish to do it, since he had made up his mind that the

man’s religion was the root of his extraordinary excellences.

Some time since, there was sent to the writer from the South, through

the mail, a little book, entitled, “Sketches of Old Virginia Family

Servants,” with a preface by Bishop Meade. The book contains an account

of the following servants: African Bella, Old Milly, Blind Lucy, Aunt

Betty, Springfield Bob, Mammy Chris, Diana Washington, Aunt Margaret,

Rachel Parker, Nelly Jackson, My Own Mammy, Aunt Beck.

The following extract from Bishop Meade’s preface may not be

uninteresting.

The following sketches were placed in my hands with a request that I

would examine them with a view to publication.

After reading them I could not but think that they would be both

pleasing and edifying.

Very many such examples of fidelity and piety might be added from

the old Virginia families. These will suffice as specimens, and will

serve to show how interesting the relation between master and

servant often is.

Many will doubtless be surprised to find that there was so much

intelligence, as well as piety, in some of the old servants of

Virginia, and that they had learned to read the Sacred Scriptures,

so as to be useful in this way among their fellow-servants. It is,

and always has been true, in regard to the servants of the Southern

States, that although public schools may have been prohibited, yet

no interference has been attempted, where the owners have chosen to

teach their servants, or permit them to learn in a private way, how

to read God’s word. Accordingly, there always have been some who

were thus taught. In the more southern states the number of these

has most abounded. Of this fact I became well assured, about thirty

years since, when visiting the Atlantic states, with a view to the

formation of auxiliary colonization societies, and the selection of

the first colonists for Africa. In the city of Charleston, South

Carolina, I found more intelligence and character among the free

colored population than anywhere else. The same was true of some of

those in bondage. A respectable number might be seen in certain

parts of the Episcopal churches which I attended using their

prayer-books, and joining in the responses of the church.

Many purposes of convenience and hospitality were subserved by this

encouragement of cultivation in some of the servants, on the part of

the owners.

When travelling many years since with a sick wife, and two female

relatives, from Charleston to Virginia, at a period of the year when

many of the families from the country resort to the town for health,

we were kindly urged to call at the seat of one of the first

families in South Carolina, and a letter from the mistress, then in

the city, was given us, to her servant, who had charge of the house

in the absence of the family. On reaching there and delivering the

letter to a most respectable-looking female servant, who immediately

read it, we were kindly welcomed, and entertained, during a part of

two days, as sumptuously as though the owner had been present. We

understood that it was no uncommon thing in South Carolina for

travellers to be thus entertained by the servants in the absence of

the owners, on receiving letters from the same.

Instances of confidential and affectionate relationship between

servants and their masters and mistresses, such as are set forth in

the following Sketches, are still to be found in all the

slaveholding states. I mention one, which has come under my own

observation. The late Judge Upshur, of Virginia, had a faithful

house-servant (by his will now set free), with whom he used to

correspond on matters of business, when he was absent on his

circuit. I was dining at his house, some years since, with a number

of persons, himself being absent, when the conversation turned on

the subject of the presidential election, then going on through the

United States, and about which there was an intense interest; when

his servant informed us that he had that day received a letter from

his master, then on the western shore, in which he stated that the

friends of General Harrison might be relieved from all uneasiness,

as the returns already received made his election quite certain.

Of course it is not to be supposed that we design to convey the

impression that such instances are numerous, the nature of the

relationship forbidding it; but we do mean emphatically to affirm

that there is far more of kindly and Christian intercourse than many

at a distance are apt to believe. That there is a great and sad want

of Christian instruction, notwithstanding the more recent efforts

put forth to impart it, we most sorrowfully acknowledge.

Bishop Meade adds that these sketches are published with the hope that

they might have the effect of turning the attention of ministers and

heads of families more seriously to the duty of caring for the souls of

their servants.

With regard to the servant of Judge Upshur, spoken of in this

communication of Bishop Meade, his master has left, in his last will,

the following remarkable tribute to his worth and excellence of

character:

I emancipate and set free my servant, David Rice, and direct my

executors to give him _one hundred dollars_. I recommend him in the

strongest manner to the respect, esteem and confidence, of any

community in which he may happen to live. He has been my slave for

twenty-four years, during all which time he has been trusted to

every extent, and in every respect; my confidence in him has been

unbounded; his relation to myself and family has always been such as

to afford him daily opportunities to deceive and injure us, yet he

has never been detected in any serious fault, nor even in an

unintentional breach of the decorum of his station. His intelligence

is of a high order, his integrity above all suspicion, and his sense

of right and propriety correct, and even refined. I feel that he is

justly entitled to carry this certificate from me in the new

relations which he must now form; it is due to his long and most

faithful services, and to the sincere and steady friendship which I

bear to him. In the uninterrupted confidential intercourse of

twenty-four years, I have never given him, nor had occasion to give

him, one unpleasant word. I know no man who has fewer faults or more

excellences than he.

In the free states there have been a few instances of such extraordinary

piety among negroes, that their biography and sayings have been

collected in religious tracts, and published for the instruction of the

community.

One of these was, before his conversion, a convict in a state-prison in

New York, and there received what was, perhaps, the first religious

instruction that had ever been imparted to him. He became so eminent an

example of humility, faith, and, above all, fervent love, that his

presence in the neighborhood was esteemed a blessing to the church. A

lady has described to the writer the manner in which he would stand up

and exhort in the church-meetings for prayer, when, with streaming eyes

and the deepest abasement, humbly addressing them as his masters and

misses, he would nevertheless pour forth religious exhortations which

were edifying to the most cultivated and refined.

In the town of Brunswick, Maine, where the writer lived when writing

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” may now be seen the grave of an aged colored woman,

named Phebe, who was so eminent for her piety and loveliness of

character, that the writer has never heard her name mentioned except

with that degree of awe and respect which one would imagine due to a

saint. The small cottage where she resided is still visited and looked

upon as a sort of shrine, as the spot where old Phebe lived and prayed.

Her prayers and pious exhortations were supposed to have been the cause

of the conversion of many young people in the place. Notwithstanding

that the unchristian feeling of caste prevails as strongly in Maine as

anywhere else in New England, and the negro, commonly speaking, is an

object of aversion and contempt, yet, so great was the influence of her

piety and loveliness of character, that she was uniformly treated with

the utmost respect and attention by all classes of people. The most

cultivated and intelligent ladies of the place esteemed it a privilege

to visit her cottage; and when she was old and helpless, her wants were

most tenderly provided for. When the news of her death was spread abroad

in the place, it excited a general and very tender sensation of regret.

“We have lost Phebe’s prayers,” was the remark frequently made

afterwards by members of the church, as they met one another. At her

funeral the ex-governor of the state and the professors of the college

officiated as pall-bearers, and a sermon was preached in which the many

excellences of her Christian character were held up as an example to the

community. A small religious tract, containing an account of her life,

was published by the American Tract Society, prepared by a lady of

Brunswick. The writer recollects that on reading the tract, when she

first went to Brunswick, a doubt arose in her mind whether it was not

somewhat exaggerated. Some time afterwards she overheard some young

persons conversing together about the tract, and saying that they did

not think it gave exactly the right idea of Phebe. “Why, is it too

highly colored?” was the inquiry of the author. “O, no, no, indeed,” was

the earnest response; “it doesn’t begin to give an idea of how good she

was.”

Such instances as these serve to illustrate the words of the apostle,

“God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise;

and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things

which are mighty.”

John Bunyan says that although the valley of humiliation be unattractive

in the eyes of the men of this world, yet the very sweetest flowers grow

there. So it is with the condition of the lowly and poor in this world.

God has often, indeed always, shown a particular regard for it, in

selecting from that class the recipients of his grace. It is to be

remembered that Jesus Christ, when he came to found the Christian

dispensation, did not choose his apostles from the chief priests and the

scribes, learned in the law, and high in the church; nor did he choose

them from philosophers and poets, whose educated and comprehensive minds

might be supposed best able to appreciate his great designs; but he

chose twelve plain, poor fishermen, who were ignorant, and felt that

they were ignorant, and who, therefore, were willing to give themselves

up with all simplicity to his guidance. What God asks of the soul more

than anything else is faith and simplicity, the affection and reliance

of the little child. Even these twelve fancied too much that they were

wise, and Jesus was obliged to set a little child in the midst of them,

as a more perfect teacher.

The negro race is confessedly more simple, docile, childlike and

affectionate, than other races; and hence the divine graces of love and

faith, when in-breathed by the Holy Spirit, find in their natural

temperament a more congenial atmosphere.

A last instance parallel with that of Uncle Tom is to be found in the

published memoirs of the venerable Josiah Henson, now, as we have said,

a clergyman in Canada. He was “raised” in the State of Maryland. His

first recollections were of seeing his father mutilated and covered with

blood, suffering the penalty of the law for the crime of raising his

hand against a white man,—that white man being the overseer, who had

attempted a brutal assault upon his mother. This punishment made his

father surly and dangerous, and he was subsequently sold south, and thus

parted forever from his wife and children. Henson grew up in a state of

heathenism, without any religious instruction, till, in a camp-meeting,

he first heard of Jesus Christ, and was electrified by the great and

thrilling news that He had tasted death for every man, the bond as well

as the free. This story produced an immediate conversion, such as we

read of in the Acts of the Apostles, where the Ethiopian eunuch, from

one interview, hearing the story of the cross, at once believes and is

baptized. Henson forthwith not only became a Christian, but began to

declare the news to those about him; and, being a man of great natural

force of mind and strength of character, his earnest endeavors to

enlighten his fellow-heathen were so successful that he was gradually

led to assume the station of a negro preacher; and though he could not

read a word of the Bible or hymn-book, his labors in this line were much

prospered. He became immediately a very valuable slave to his master,

and was intrusted by the latter with the oversight of his whole estate,

which he managed with great judgment and prudence. His master appears to

have been a very ordinary man in every respect,—to have been entirely

incapable of estimating him in any other light then as exceedingly

valuable property, and to have had no other feeling excited by his

extraordinary faithfulness than the desire to make the most of him. When

his affairs became embarrassed, he formed the design of removing all his

negroes into Kentucky, and intrusted the operation entirely to his

overseer. Henson was to take them alone, without any other attendant,

from Maryland to Kentucky, a distance of some thousands of miles, giving

only his promise as a Christian that he would faithfully perform this

undertaking. On the way thither they passed through a portion of Ohio,

and there Henson was informed that he could now secure his own freedom

and that of all his fellows, and he was strongly urged to do it. He was

exceedingly tempted and tried, but his Christian principle was

invulnerable. No inducements could lead him to feel that it was right

for a Christian to violate a pledge solemnly given, and his influence

over the whole band was so great that he took them all with him into

Kentucky. Those casuists among us who lately seem to think and teach

that it is right for us to violate the plain commands of God whenever

some great national good can be secured by it, would do well to

contemplate the inflexible principle of this poor slave, who, without

being able to read a letter of the Bible, was yet enabled to perform

this most sublime act of self-renunciation in obedience its commands.

Subsequently to this his master, in a relenting moment, was induced by a

friend to sell him his freedom for four hundred dollars; but, when the

excitement of the importunity had passed off, he regretted that he had

suffered so valuable a piece of property to leave his hands for so

slight a remuneration. By an unworthy artifice, therefore, he got

possession of his servant’s free papers, and condemned him still to

hopeless slavery. Subsequently, his affairs becoming still more

involved, he sent his son down the river with a flat-boat loaded with

cattle and produce for the New Orleans market, directing him to take

Henson along, and sell him after they had sold the cattle and the boat.

All the depths of the negro’s soul were torn up and thrown into

convulsion by this horrible piece of ingratitude, cruelty and injustice;

and, while outwardly calm, he was struggling with most bitter

temptations from within, which, as he could not read the Bible, he could

repel only by a recollection of its sacred truths, and by earnest

prayer. As he neared the New Orleans market, he says that these

convulsions of soul increased, especially when he met some of his old

companions from Kentucky, whose despairing countenances and emaciated

forms told of hard work and insufficient food, and confirmed all his

worst fears of the lower country. In the transports of his despair, the

temptation was more urgently presented to him to murder his young master

and the other hand on the flat-boat in their sleep, to seize upon the

boat, and make his escape. He thus relates the scene where he was almost

brought to the perpetration of this deed:

One dark, rainy night, within a few days of New Orleans, my hour

seemed to have come. I was alone on the deck; Mr. Amos and the hands

were all asleep below, and I crept down noiselessly, got hold of an

axe, entered the cabin, and looking by the aid of the dim light

there for my victims, my eye fell upon Master Amos, who was nearest

to me; my hand slid along the axe-handle, I raised it to strike the

fatal blow,—when suddenly the thought came to me, “What! commit

_murder_! and you a Christian?” I had not called it murder before.

It was self-defence,—it was preventing others from murdering me,—it

was justifiable, it was even praiseworthy. But now, all at once, the

truth burst upon me that it was a crime. I was going to kill a young

man, who had done nothing to injure me, but obey commands which he

could not resist; I was about to lose the fruit of all my efforts at

self-improvement, the character I had acquired, and the peace of

mind which had never deserted me. All this came upon me instantly,

and with a distinctness which made me almost think I heard it

whispered in my ear; and I believe I even turned my head to listen.

I shrunk back, laid down the axe, crept up on deck again, and

thanked God, as I have done every day since, that I had not

committed murder.

My feelings were still agitated, but they were changed. I was filled

with shame and remorse for the design I had entertained, and with

the fear that my companions would detect it in my face, or that a

careless word would betray my guilty thoughts. I remained on deck

all night, instead of rousing one of the men to relieve me; and

nothing brought composure to my mind, but the solemn resolution I

then made to resign myself to the will of God, and take with

thankfulness, if I could, but with submission, at all events,

whatever he might decide should be my lot. I reflected that if my

life were reduced to a brief term I should have less to suffer, and

that it was better to die with a Christian’s hope, and a quiet

conscience, than to live with the incessant recollection of a crime

that would destroy the value of life, and under the weight of a

secret that would crush out the satisfaction that might be expected

from freedom, and every other blessing.

Subsequently to this, his young master was taken violently down with the

river fever, and became as helpless as a child. He passionately

entreated Henson not to desert him, but to attend to the selling of the

boat and produce, and put him on board the steamboat, and not to leave

him, dead or alive, till he had carried him back to his father.

The young master was borne in the arms of his faithful servant to the

steamboat, and there nursed by him with unremitting attention during the

journey up the river; nor did he leave him till he had placed him in his

father’s arms.

Our love for human nature would lead us to add, with sorrow, that all

this disinterestedness and kindness was rewarded only by empty praises,

such as would be bestowed upon a very fine dog; and Henson indignantly

resolved no longer to submit to the injustice. With a degree of

prudence, courage and address, which can scarcely find a parallel in any

history, he managed, with his wife and two children, to escape into

Canada. Here he learned to read, and, by his superior talent and

capacity for management, laid the foundation for the fugitive settlement

of Dawn, which is understood to be one of the most flourishing in

Canada.

It would be well for the most cultivated of us to ask, whether our ten

talents in the way of religious knowledge have enabled us to bring forth

as much fruit to the glory of God, to withstand temptation as patiently,

to return good for evil as disinterestedly, as this poor, ignorant

slave. A writer in England has sneeringly remarked that such a man as

Uncle Tom might be imported as a missionary to teach the most cultivated

in England or America the true nature of religion. These instances show

that what has been said with a sneer is in truth a sober verity; and it

should never be forgotten that out of this race whom man despiseth have

often been chosen of God true messengers of his grace, and temples for

the indwelling of his Spirit.

“_For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose

name is Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is

of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and

to revive the heart of the contrite ones._”

The vision attributed to Uncle Tom introduces quite a curious chapter of

psychology with regard to the negro race, and indicates a peculiarity

which goes far to show how very different they are from the white race.

They are possessed of a nervous organization peculiarly susceptible and

impressible. Their sensations and impressions are very vivid, and their

fancy and imagination lively. In this respect the race has an oriental

character, and betrays its tropical origin. Like the Hebrews of old and

the oriental nations of the present, they give vent to their emotions

with the utmost vivacity of expression, and their whole bodily system

sympathizes with the movements of their minds. When in distress, they

actually lift up their voices to weep, and “cry with an exceeding bitter

cry.” When alarmed, they are often paralyzed, and rendered entirely

helpless. Their religious exercises are all colored by this sensitive

and exceedingly vivacious temperament. Like oriental nations, they

incline much to outward expressions, violent gesticulations, and

agitating movements of the body. Sometimes, in their religious meetings,

they will spring from the floor many times in succession, with a

violence and rapidity which is perfectly astonishing. They will laugh,

weep, embrace each other convulsively, and sometimes become entirely

paralyzed and cataleptic. A clergyman from the North once remonstrated

with a Southern clergyman for permitting such extravagances among his

flock. The reply of the Southern minister was, in effect, this: “Sir, I

am satisfied that the races are so essentially different that they

cannot be regulated by the same rules. I, at first, felt as you do; and,

though I saw that genuine conversions did take place, with all this

outward manifestation, I was still so much annoyed by it as to forbid it

among my negroes, till I was satisfied that the repression of it was a

serious hindrance to real religious feeling; and then I became certain

that all men cannot be regulated in their religious exercises by one

model. I am assured that conversions produced with these accessories are

quite as apt to be genuine, and to be as influential over the heart and

life, as those produced in any other way.” The fact is, that the

Anglo-Saxon race—cool, logical and practical—have yet to learn the

doctrine of toleration for the peculiarities of other races; and perhaps

it was with a foresight of their peculiar character, and dominant

position in the earth, that God gave the Bible to them in the fervent

language and with the glowing imagery of the more susceptible and

passionate oriental races.

Mesmerists have found that the negroes are singularly susceptible to all

that class of influences which produce catalepsy, mesmeric sleep, and

partial clairvoyant phenomena.

The African race, in their own climate, are believers in spells, in

“fetish and obi,” in “the evil eye,” and other singular influences, for

which, probably, there is an origin in this peculiarity of constitution.

The magicians in scriptural history were Africans; and the so-called

magical arts are still practised in Egypt, and other parts of Africa,

with a degree of skill and success which can only be accounted for by

supposing peculiarities of nervous constitution quite different from

those of the whites. Considering those distinctive traits of the race,

it is no matter of surprise to find in their religious histories, when

acted upon by the powerful stimulant of the Christian religion, very

peculiar features. We are not surprised to find almost constantly, in

the narrations of their religious histories, accounts of visions, of

heavenly voices, of mysterious sympathies and transmissions of knowledge

from heart to heart without the intervention of the senses, or what the

Quakers call being “baptized into the spirit” of those who are distant.

Cases of this kind are constantly recurring in their histories. The

young man whose story was related to the Boston lady, and introduced

above in the chapter on George Harris, stated this incident concerning

the recovery of his liberty: That, after the departure of his wife and

sister, he, for a long time, and very earnestly, sought some opportunity

of escape, but that every avenue appeared to be closed to him. At

length, in despair, he retreated to his room, and threw himself upon his

bed, resolving to give up the undertaking, when, just as he was sinking

to sleep, he was roused by a voice saying in his ear, “Why do you sleep

now? Rise up, if you ever mean to be free!” He sprang up, went

immediately out, and, in the course of two hours, discovered the means

of escape which he used.

A lady whose history is known to the writer resided for some time on a

Southern plantation, and was in the habit of imparting religious

instruction to the slaves. One day, a woman from a distant plantation

called at her residence, and inquired for her. The lady asked, in

surprise, “How did you know about me?” The old woman’s reply was, that

she had long been distressed about her soul; but that, several nights

before, some one had appeared to her in a dream, told her to go to this

plantation and inquire for the strange lady there, and that she would

teach her the way to heaven.

Another specimen of the same kind was related to the writer by a

slave-woman who had been through the whole painful experience of a

slave’s life. She was originally a young girl of pleasing exterior and

gentle nature, carefully reared as a seamstress and nurse to the

children of a family in Virginia, and attached, with all the warmth of

her susceptible nature, to these children. Although one of the tenderest

of mothers when the writer knew her, yet she assured the writer that she

had never loved a child of her own as she loved the dear little young

mistress who was her particular charge. Owing, probably, to some

pecuniary difficulty in the family, this girl, whom we will call Louisa,

was sold, to go on to a Southern plantation. She has often described the

scene when she was forced into a carriage, and saw her dear young

mistress leaning from the window, stretching her arms towards her,

screaming, and calling her name, with all the vehemence of childish

grief. She was carried in a coffle, and sold as cook on a Southern

plantation. With the utmost earnestness of language she has described to

the writer her utter loneliness, and the distress and despair of her

heart, in this situation, parted forever from all she held dear on

earth, without even the possibility of writing letters or sending

messages, surrounded by those who felt no kind of interest in her, and

forced to a toil for which her more delicate education had entirely

unfitted her. Under these circumstances, she began to believe that it

was for some dreadful sin she had thus been afflicted. The course of her

mind after this may be best told in her own simple words:

“After that, I began to feel awful wicked,—O, so wicked, you’ve no idea!

I felt so wicked that my sins seemed like a load on me, and I went so

heavy all the day! I felt so wicked that I didn’t feel worthy to pray in

the house, and I used to go way off in the lot and pray. At last, one

day, when I was praying, the Lord he came and spoke to me.”

“The Lord spoke to you?” said the writer; “what do you mean, Louisa?”

With a face of the utmost earnestness, she answered, “Why, ma’am, the

Lord Jesus he came and spoke to me, you know; and I never, till the last

day of my life, shall forget what he said to me.”

“What was it?” said the writer.

“He said, ‘Fear not, my little one; thy sins are forgiven thee;’” and

she added to this some verses, which the writer recognized as those of a

Methodist hymn.

Being curious to examine more closely this phenomenon, the author said,

“You mean that you dreamed this, Louisa.”

With an air of wounded feeling, and much earnestness, she answered,

“O no, Mrs. Stowe; that never was a dream; you’ll never make me believe

that.”

The thought at once arose in the writer’s mind, If the Lord Jesus is

indeed everywhere present, and if he is as tender-hearted and

compassionate as he was on earth,—and we know he is,—must he not

sometimes long to speak to the poor, desolate slave, when he knows that

no voice but His can carry comfort and healing to his soul?

This instance of Louisa is so exactly parallel to another case, which

the author received from an authentic source, that she is tempted to

place the two side by side.

Among the slaves who were brought into the New England States, at the

time when slavery was prevalent, was one woman, who, immediately on

being told the history of the love of Jesus Christ, exclaimed, “He is

the one; this is what I wanted.”

This language causing surprise, her history was inquired into. It was

briefly this: While living in her simple hut in Africa, the kidnappers

one day rushed upon her family, and carried her husband and children off

to the slave-ship, she escaping into the woods. On returning to her

desolate home, she mourned with the bitterness of “Rachel weeping for

her children.” For many days her heart was oppressed with a heavy weight

of sorrow; and, refusing all sustenance, she wandered up and down the

desolate forest.

At last, she says, a strong impulse came over her to kneel down and pour

out her sorrows into the ear of some unknown Being whom she fancied to

be above her, in the sky.

She did so; and, to her surprise, found an inexpressible sensation of

relief. After this, it was her custom daily to go out to this same spot,

and supplicate this unknown Friend. Subsequently, she was herself taken,

and brought over to America; and, when the story of Jesus and his love

was related to her, she immediately felt in her soul that this Jesus was

the very friend who had spoken comfort to her yearning spirit in the

distant forest of Africa.

Compare now these experiences with the earnest and beautiful language of

Paul: “He hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all

the face of the earth; and hath determined the times before appointed

_and the bounds_ of their habitation, _that_ THEY SHOULD _seek the Lord,

if haply they might_ FEEL AFTER HIM AND FIND HIM, _though he be not far

from every one of us_.”

Is not this truly “_feeling after God and finding Him_”? And may we not

hope that the yearning, troubled, helpless heart of man, pressed by the

insufferable anguish of this short life, or wearied by its utter vanity,

never extends its ignorant, pleading hand to God in vain? Is not the

veil which divides us from an almighty and most merciful Father much

thinner than we, in the pride of our philosophy, are apt to imagine? and

is it not the most worthy conception of Him to suppose that the more

utterly helpless and ignorant the human being is that seeks His aid, the

more tender and the more condescending will be His communication with

that soul?

If a mother has among her children one whom sickness has made blind, or

deaf, or dumb, incapable of acquiring knowledge through the usual

channels of communication, does she not seek to reach its darkened mind

by modes of communication tenderer and more intimate than those which

she uses with the stronger and more favored ones? But can the love of

any mother be compared with the infinite love of Jesus? Has He not

described himself as that good Shepherd who leaves the whole flock of

secure and well-instructed ones, to follow over the mountains of sin and

ignorance the one lost sheep; and, when He hath found it, rejoicing more

over that one than over the ninety and nine that went not astray? Has He

not told us that each of these little ones has a guardian angel that

doth always behold the face of his Father which is in heaven? And is it

not comforting to us to think that His love and care will be in

proportion to the ignorance and the wants of His chosen ones?

* * * * *

Since the above was prepared for the press the author has received the

following extract from a letter written by a gentleman in Missouri to

the editor of the _Oberlin_ (Ohio) _Evangelist_:

I really thought, while reading “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” that the

authoress, when describing the character of Tom, had in her mind’s

eye a slave whose acquaintance I made some years since, in the State

of Mississippi, called “Uncle Jacob.” I was staying a day or two

with a planter, and in the evening, when out in the yard, I heard a

well-known hymn and tune sung in one of the “quarters,” and then the

voice of prayer; and O, _such_ a prayer! what fervor, what

unction,—nay, the man “prayed right up;” and when I read of Uncle

Tom, how “nothing could exceed the touching simplicity, the

childlike earnestness, of his prayer, enriched with the language of

Scripture, which seemed so entirely to have wrought itself into his

being as to have become a part of himself,” the recollections of

that evening prayer were strangely vivid. On entering the house and

referring to what I had heard, his master replied, “Ah, sir, if I

covet anything in this world, it is Uncle Jacob’s religion. If there

is a good man on earth, he certainly is one.” He said Uncle Jacob

was a regulator on the plantation; that a _word_ or a _look_ from

him, addressed to younger slaves, had more efficacy than a _blow_

from the overseer.

The next morning Uncle Jacob informed me he was from Kentucky,

opposite Cincinnati; that his opportunities for attending religious

worship had been frequent; that at about the age of forty he was

sold south, was set to picking cotton; could not, when doing his

best, pick the task assigned him; was whipped and whipped, he could

not possibly tell how often; was of the opinion that the overseer

came to the conclusion that whipping could not bring one more pound

out of him, for he set him to driving a team. At this and other work

he could “make a _hand_;” had changed owners three or four times. He

expressed himself as well pleased with his present situation as he

expected to be in the South, but was yearning to return to his

former associations in Kentucky.

CHAPTER VII.

MISS OPHELIA.

Miss Ophelia stands as the representative of a numerous class of the

very best of Northern people; to whom, perhaps, if our Lord should again

address his churches a letter, as he did those of old time, he would use

the same words as then: “I know thy works, and thy labor, and thy

patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are evil; and thou hast

tried them which are apostles and are not, and hast found them liars;

and hast borne, and hast patience, and for my name’s sake hast labored

and hast not fainted. Nevertheless, I have somewhat against thee,

because thou hast left thy first love.”

There are in this class of people activity, zeal, unflinching

conscientiousness, clear intellectual discriminations between truth and

error, and great logical and doctrinal correctness; but there is a want

of that spirit of love, without which, in the eye of Christ, the most

perfect character is as deficient as a wax flower—wanting in life and

perfume.

Yet this blessed principle is not dead in their hearts, but only

sleepeth; and so great is the real and genuine goodness, that, when the

true magnet of divine love is applied, they always answer to its touch.

So when the gentle Eva, who is an impersonation in childish form of the

love of Christ, solves at once, by a blessed instinct, the problem which

Ophelia has long been unable to solve by dint of utmost hammering and

vehement effort, she at once, with a good and honest heart, perceives

and acknowledges her mistake, and is willing to learn even of a little

child.

Miss Ophelia, again, represents one great sin, of which, unconsciously,

American Christians have allowed themselves to be guilty. Unconsciously

it must be, for nowhere is conscience so predominant as among this

class, and nowhere is there a more honest strife to bring every thought

into captivity to the obedience of Christ.

One of the first and most declared objects of the gospel has been to

break down all those irrational barriers and prejudices which separate

the human brotherhood into diverse and contending clans. Paul says, “In

Christ Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond

nor free.” The Jews at that time were separated from the Gentiles by an

insuperable wall of prejudice. They could not eat and drink together,

nor pray together. But the apostles most earnestly labored to show them

the sin of this prejudice. St. Paul says to the Ephesians, speaking of

this former division, “He is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath

broken down the middle wall of partition between us.”

It is very easy to see that although slavery has been abolished in the

New England States, it has left behind it the most baneful feature of

the system—that which makes American worse than Roman slavery—the

prejudice of caste and color. In the New England States the negro has

been treated as belonging to an inferior race of beings;—forced to sit

apart by himself in the place of worship; his children excluded from the

schools; himself excluded from the railroad-car and the omnibus, and the

peculiarities of his race made the subject of bitter contempt and

ridicule.

This course of conduct has been justified by saying that they are a

degraded race. But how came they degraded? Take any class of men, and

shut them from the means of education, deprive them of hope and

self-respect, close to them all avenues of honorable ambition, and you

will make just such a race of them as the negroes have been among us.

So singular and so melancholy is the dominion of prejudice over the

human mind, that professors of Christianity in our New England States

have often, with very serious self-denial to themselves, sent the gospel

to heathen as dark-complexioned as the Africans, when in their very

neighborhood were persons of dark complexion, who, on that account, were

forbidden to send their children to the schools, and discouraged from

entering the churches. The effect of this has been directly to degrade

and depress the race, and then this very degradation and depression has

been pleaded as the reason for continuing this course.

Not long since the writer called upon a benevolent lady, and during the

course of the call the conversation turned upon the incidents of a fire

which had occurred the night before in the neighborhood. A deserted

house had been burned to the ground. The lady said it was supposed it

had been set on fire. “What could be any one’s motive for setting it on

fire?” said the writer.

“Well,” replied the lady, “it was supposed that a colored family was

about to move into it, and it was thought that the neighborhood wouldn’t

consent to that. So it was supposed that was the reason.”

This was said with an air of innocence and much unconcern.

The writer inquired, “Was it a family of bad character?”

“No, not particularly, that I know of,” said the lady; “but then they

are negroes, you know.”

Now, this lady is a very pious lady. She probably would deny herself to

send the gospel to the heathen, and if she had ever thought of

considering this family a heathen family, would have felt the deepest

interest in their welfare; because on the subject of duty to the heathen

she had been frequently instructed from the pulpit, and had all her

religious and conscientious sensibilities awake. Probably she had never

listened from the pulpit to a sermon which should exhibit the great

truth, that “in Christ Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek, barbarian,

Scythian, bond nor free.”

Supposing our Lord was now on earth, as he was once, what course is it

probable that he would pursue with regard to this unchristian prejudice

of color?

There was a class of men in those days as much despised by the Jews as

the negroes are by us; and it was a complaint made of Christ that he was

a friend of publicans and sinners. And if Christ should enter, on some

communion season, into a place of worship, and see the colored man

sitting afar off by himself, would it not be just in his spirit to go

there and sit with him, rather than to take the seats of his richer and

more prosperous brethren?

It is, however, but just to our Northern Christians to say that this sin

has been committed ignorantly and in unbelief, and that within a few

years signs of a much better spirit have begun to manifest themselves.

In some places, recently, the doors of school-houses have been thrown

open to the children, and many a good Miss Ophelia has opened her eyes

in astonishment to find that, while she has been devouring the

_Missionary Herald_, and going without butter on her bread and sugar in

her tea to send the gospel to the Sandwich Islands, there is a very

thriving colony of heathen in her own neighborhood at home; and, true to

her own good and honest heart, she has resolved, _not_ to give up her

prayers and efforts for the heathen abroad, but to add thereunto labors

for the heathen at home.

Our safety and hope in this matter is this: that there are multitudes in

all our churches who do most truly and sincerely love Christ above all

things, and who, just so soon as a little reflection shall have made

them sensible of their duty in this respect, will most earnestly perform

it.

It is true that, if they do so, they may be called Abolitionists; but

the true Miss Ophelia is not afraid of a hard name in a good cause, and

has rather learned to consider “the reproach of Christ a greater

treasure than the riches of Egypt.”

That there is much already for Christians to do in enlightening the

moral sense of the community on this subject, will appear if we consider

that even so well-educated and gentlemanly a man as Frederick Douglass

was recently obliged to pass the night on the deck of a steamer, when in

delicate health, because this senseless prejudice deprived him of a

place in the cabin; and that that very laborious and useful minister,

Dr. Pennington, of New York, has, during the last season, been often

obliged seriously to endanger his health, by walking to his pastoral

labors, over his very extended parish, under a burning sun, because he

could not be allowed the common privilege of the omnibus, which conveys

every class of white men, from the most refined to the lowest and most

disgusting.

Let us consider now the number of professors of the religion of Christ

in New York, and consider also that, by the very fact of their

profession, they consider Dr. Pennington the brother of their Lord, and

a member with them of the body of Christ.

Now, these Christians are influential, rich and powerful; they can

control public sentiment on any subject that they think of any

particular importance, and they profess, by their religion, that “if one

member suffers, all the members suffer with it.”

It is a serious question, whether such a marked indignity offered to

Christ and his ministry, in the person of a colored brother, without any

remonstrance on their part, will not lead to a general feeling that all

that the Bible says about the union of Christians is a mere hollow

sound, and means nothing.

Those who are anxious to do something directly to improve the condition

of the slave, can do it in no way so directly as by elevating the

condition of the free colored people around them, and taking every pains

to give them equal rights and privileges.

This unchristian prejudice has doubtless stood in the way of the

emancipation of hundreds of slaves. The slave-holder, feeling and

acknowledging the evils of slavery, has come to the North, and seen

evidences of this unkindly and unchristian state of feeling towards the

slave, and has thus reflected within himself:

“If I keep my slave at the South, he is, it is true, under the dominion

of a very severe law; but then he enjoys the advantage of my friendship

and assistance, and derives, through his connection with me and my

family, some kind of a position in the community. As my servant he is

allowed a seat in the car and a place at the table. But if I emancipate

and send him North, he will encounter substantially all the

disadvantages of slavery, with no master to protect him.”

This mode of reasoning has proved an apology to many a man for keeping

his slaves in a position which he confesses to be a bad one; and it will

be at once perceived that, should the position of the negro be

conspicuously reversed in our northern states, the effect upon the

emancipation of the slave would be very great. They, then, who keep up

this prejudice, may be said to be, in a certain sense, slave-holders.

It is not meant by this that all distinctions of society should be

broken over, and that people should be obliged to choose their intimate

associates from a class unfitted by education and habits to sympathize

with them.

The negro should not be lifted out of his sphere of life because he is a

negro, but he should be treated with Christian courtesy _in_ his sphere.

In the railroad car, in the omnibus and steamboat, all ranks and degrees

of white persons move with unquestioned freedom side by side; and

Christianity requires that the negro have the same privilege.

That the dirtiest and most uneducated foreigner or American, with breath

redolent of whiskey and clothes foul and disordered, should have an

unquestioned right to take a seat next to any person in a railroad car

or steamboat, and that the respectable, decent and gentlemanly negro

should be excluded simply because he is a negro, cannot be considered

otherwise than as an irrational and unchristian thing: and any Christian

who allows such things done in his presence without remonstrance, and

the use of his Christian influence, will certainly be made deeply

sensible of his error when he comes at last to direct and personal

interview with his Lord.

There is no hope for this matter, if the love of Christ is not strong

enough, and if it cannot be said, with regard to the two races, “He is

our peace who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall

of partition between us.”

The time is coming rapidly when the upper classes in society must learn

that their education, wealth and refinement, are not their own; that

they have no right to use them for their own selfish benefit; but that

they should hold them rather, as Fenelon expresses it, as “a ministry,”

a stewardship, which they hold in trust for the benefit of their poorer

brethren.

In some of the very highest circles in England and America we begin to

see illustrious examples of the commencement of such a condition of

things.

One of the merchant princes of Boston, whose funeral has lately been

celebrated in our city, afforded in his life a beautiful example of this

truth. His wealth was the wealth of thousands. He was the steward of the

widow and the orphan. His funds were a savings bank, wherein were laid

up the resources of the poor; and the mourners at his funeral were the

scholars of the schools which he had founded, the officers of literary

institutions which his munificence had endowed, the widows and orphans

whom he had counselled and supported, and the men, in all ranks and

conditions of life, who had been made by his benevolence to feel that

his wealth was their wealth. May God raise up many men in Boston to

enter into the spirit and labors of Amos Lawrence!

This is the _true_ socialism, which comes from the spirit of Christ,

and, without breaking down existing orders of society, _by love_ makes

the property and possessions of the higher class the property of the

lower.

Men are always seeking to begin their reforms with the _outward_ and

_physical_. Christ begins his reforms in the heart. Men would break up

all ranks of society, and throw all property into a common stock; but

Christ would inspire the higher class with that Divine Spirit by which

all the wealth and means and advantages of their position are used for

the good of the lower.

We see, also, in the highest aristocracy of England, instances of the

same tendency.

Among her oldest nobility there begin to arise lecturers to mechanics

and patrons of ragged schools; and it is said that even on the throne of

England is a woman who weekly instructs her class of Sunday-school

scholars from the children in the vicinity of her country residence.

In this way, and not by an outward and physical division of property,

shall all things be had in common. And when the white race shall regard

their superiority over the colored one only as a talent intrusted for

the advantage of their weaker brother, _then_ will the prejudice of

caste melt away in the light of Christianity.

CHAPTER VIII.

MARIE ST. CLARE.

Marie St. Clare is the type of a class of women not peculiar to any

latitude, nor any condition of society. She may be found in England or

in America. In the northern free states we have many Marie St. Clares,

more or less fully developed.

When found in a northern latitude, she is forever in trouble about her

domestic relations. Her servants never do anything right. Strange to

tell, they are not perfect, and she thinks it a very great shame. She is

fully convinced that she ought to have every moral and Christian virtue

in her kitchen for a little less than the ordinary wages; and when her

cook leaves her, because she finds she can get better wages and less

work in a neighboring family, she thinks it shockingly selfish,

unprincipled conduct. She is of opinion that servants ought to be

perfectly disinterested; that they ought to be willing to take up with

the worst rooms in the house, with very moderate wages, and very

indifferent food, when they can get much better elsewhere, purely for

the sake of pleasing her. She likes to get hold of foreign servants, who

have not yet learned our ways, who are used to working for low wages,

and who will be satisfied with almost anything; but she is often heard

to lament that they soon get spoiled, and want as many privileges as

anybody else,—which is perfectly shocking. Marie often wishes that she

could be a slave-holder, or could live somewhere where the lower class

are kept down, and made to know their place. She is always hunting for

cheap seamstresses, and will tell you, in an under-tone, that she has

discovered a woman who will make linen shirts beautifully, stitch the

collars and wristbands twice, all for thirty-seven cents, when many

seamstresses get a dollar for it; says she does it because she’s poor,

and has no friends; thinks you had better be careful in your

conversation, and not let her know what prices are, or else she will get

spoiled, and go to raising her price,—these sewing-women are so selfish.

When Marie St. Clare has the misfortune to live in a free state, there

is no end to her troubles. Her cook is always going off for better wages

and more comfortable quarters; her chambermaid, strangely enough, won’t

agree to be chambermaid and seamstress both for half wages, and so she

deserts. Marie’s kitchen-cabinet, therefore, is always in a state of

revolution; and she often declares, with affecting earnestness, that

servants are the torment of her life. If her husband endeavor to

remonstrate, or suggest another mode of treatment, he is a hard-hearted,

unfeeling man; “he doesn’t love her, and she always knew he didn’t;” and

so he is disposed of.

But, when Marie comes under a system of laws which gives her absolute

control over her dependants,—which enables her to separate them, at her

pleasure, from their dearest family connections, or to inflict upon them

the most disgraceful and violent punishments, without even the restraint

which seeing the execution might possibly produce,—then it is that the

character arrives at full maturity. Human nature is no worse at the

South than at the North; but law at the South distinctly provides for

and protects the worst abuses to which that nature is liable.

It is often supposed that domestic servitude in slave states is a kind

of paradise; that house-servants are invariably pets; that young

mistresses are always fond of their “mammies,” and young masters always

handsome, good-natured and indulgent.

Let any one in Old England or New England look about among their

immediate acquaintances, and ask how many there are who would use

absolute despotic power amiably in a family, especially over a class

degraded by servitude, ignorant, indolent, deceitful, provoking, as

slaves almost necessarily are, and always must be.

Let them look into their own hearts, and ask themselves if they would

dare to be trusted with such a power. Do they not find in themselves

temptations to be unjust to those who are inferiors and dependants? Do

they not find themselves tempted to be irritable and provoked, when the

service of their families is negligently performed? And, if they had the

power to inflict cruel punishments, or to have them inflicted by sending

the servant out to some place of correction, would they not be tempted

to use that liberty?

With regard to those degrading punishments to which females are

subjected, by being sent to professional whippers, or by having such

functionaries sent for to the house,—as John Caphart testifies that he

has often been, in Baltimore,—what can be said of their influence both

on the superior and on the inferior class? It is very painful indeed to

contemplate this subject. The mind instinctively shrinks from it; but

still it is a very serious question whether it be not our duty to

encounter this pain, that our sympathies may be quickened into more

active exercise. For this reason, we give here the testimony of a

gentleman whose accuracy will not be doubted, and who subjected himself

to the pain of being an eye-witness to a scene of this kind in the

calaboose in New Orleans. As the reader will perceive from the account,

it was a scene of such every-day occurrence as not to excite any

particular remark, or any expression of sympathy from those of the same

condition and color with the sufferer.

When our missionaries first went to India, it was esteemed a duty among

Christian nations to make themselves acquainted with the cruelties and

atrocities of idolatrous worship, as a means of quickening our zeal to

send them the gospel.

If it be said that we in the free states have no such interest in

slavery, as we do not support it, and have no power to prevent it, it is

replied that slavery does exist in the District of Columbia, which

belongs to the whole United States; and that the free states are, before

God, guilty of the crime of continuing it there, unless they will

honestly do what in them lies for its extermination.

The subjoined account was written by the benevolent Dr. Howe, whose

labors in behalf of the blind have rendered his name dear to humanity,

and was sent in a letter to the Hon. Charles Sumner. If any one think it

too painful to be perused, let him ask himself if God will hold those

guiltless who suffer a system to continue, the details of which they

cannot even read. That this describes a common scene in the calaboose,

we shall by and by produce other witnesses to show.

I have passed ten days in New Orleans, not unprofitably, I trust, in

examining the public institutions,—the schools, asylums, hospitals,

prisons, &c. With the exception of the first, there is little hope

of amelioration. I know not how much merit there may be in their

system; but I do know that, in the administration of the penal code,

there are abominations which should bring down the fate of Sodom

upon the city. If Howard or Mrs. Fry ever discovered so

ill-administered a den of thieves as the New Orleans prison, they

never described it. In the negro’s apartment I saw much which made

me blush that I was a white man, and which, for a moment, stirred up

an evil spirit in my animal nature. Entering a large paved

court-yard, around which ran galleries filled with slaves of all

ages, sexes and colors, I heard the snap of a whip, every stroke of

which sounded like the sharp crack of a pistol. I turned my head,

and beheld a sight which absolutely chilled me to the marrow of my

bones, and gave me, for the first time in my life, the sensation of

my hair stiffening at the roots. There lay a black girl flat upon

her face, on a board, her two thumbs tied, and fastened to one end,

her feet tied, and drawn tightly to the other end, while a strap

passed over the small of her back, and, fastened around the board,

compressed her closely to it. Below the strap she was entirely

naked. By her side, and six feet off, stood a huge negro, with a

long whip, which he applied with dreadful power and wonderful

precision. Every stroke brought away a strip of skin, which clung to

the lash, or fell quivering on the pavement, while the blood

followed after it. The poor creature writhed and shrieked, and, in a

voice which showed alike her fear of death and her dreadful agony,

screamed to her master, who stood at her head, “O, spare my life!

don’t cut my soul out!” But still fell the horrid lash; still strip

after strip peeled off from the skin; gash after gash was cut in her

living flesh, until it became a livid and bloody mass of raw and

quivering muscle. It was with the greatest difficulty I refrained

from springing upon the torturer, and arresting his lash; but, alas!

what could I do, but turn aside to hide my tears for the sufferer,

and my blushes for humanity? This was in a public and

regularly-organized prison; the punishment was one recognized and

authorized by the law. But think you the poor wretch had committed a

heinous offence, and had been convicted thereof, and sentenced to

the lash? Not at all. She was brought by her master to be whipped by

the common executioner, without trial, judge or jury, just at his

beck or nod, for some real or supposed offence, or to gratify his

own whim or malice. And he may bring her day after day, without

cause assigned, and inflict any number of lashes he pleases, short

of twenty-five, provided only he pays the fee. Or, if he choose, he

may have a private whipping-board on his own premises, and brutalize

himself there. A shocking part of this horrid punishment was its

publicity, as I have said; it was in a court-yard surrounded by

galleries, which were filled with colored persons of all

sexes,—runaway slaves, committed for some crime, or slaves up for

sale. You would naturally suppose they crowded forward, and gazed,

horror-stricken, at the brutal spectacle below; but they did not;

many of them hardly noticed it, and many were entirely indifferent

to it. They went on in their childish pursuits, and some were

laughing outright in the distant parts of the galleries; so low can

man, created in God’s image, be sunk in brutality.

CHAPTER IX.

ST. CLARE.

It is with pleasure that we turn from the dark picture just presented,

to the character of the generous and noble-hearted St. Clare, wherein

the fairest picture of our Southern brother is presented.

It has been the writer’s object to separate carefully, as far as

possible, the system from the men. It is her sincere belief that, while

the irresponsible power of slavery is such that no human being ought

ever to possess it, probably that power was never exercised more

leniently than in many cases in the Southern States. She has been

astonished to see how, under all the disadvantages which attend the

early possession of arbitrary power, all the temptations which every

reflecting mind must see will arise from the possession of this power in

various forms, there are often developed such fine and interesting

traits of character. To say that these cases are common, alas! is not in

our power. Men know human nature too well to believe us, if we should.

But the more dreadful the evil to be assailed, the more careful should

we be to be just in our apprehensions, and to balance the horror which

certain abuses must necessarily excite, by a consideration of those

excellent and redeeming traits which are often found in individuals

connected with the system.

The twin brothers, Alfred and Augustine St. Clare, represent two classes

of men which are to be found in all countries. They are the radically

aristocratic and democratic men. The aristocrat by position is not

always the aristocrat by nature, and _vice versa_; but the aristocrat by

nature, whether he be in a higher or lower position in society, is he

who, though he may be just, generous and humane, to those whom he

considers his equals, is entirely insensible to the wants, and

sufferings, and common humanity, of those whom he considers the lower

orders. The sufferings of a countess would make him weep; the sufferings

of a seamstress are quite another matter.

On the other hand, the democrat is often found in the highest position

of life. To this man, superiority to his brother is a thing which he can

never boldly and nakedly assert without a secret pain. In the lowest and

humblest walk of life, he acknowledges the sacredness of a common

humanity; and however degraded by the opinions and institutions of

society any particular class may be, there is an instinctive feeling in

his soul which teaches him that they are _men_ of like passions with

himself. Such men have a penetration which at once sees through all the

false shows of outward custom which make one man so dissimilar to

another, to those great generic capabilities, sorrows, wants and

weaknesses, wherein all men and women are alike; and there is no such

thing as making them realize that one order of human beings have any

prescriptive right over another order, or that the tears and sufferings

of one are not just as good as those of another order.

That such men are to be found at the South in the relation of

slave-masters, that when so found they cannot and will not be deluded by

any of the shams and sophistry wherewith slavery has been defended, that

they look upon it as a relic of a barbarous age, and utterly scorn and

contemn all its apologists, we can abundantly show. Many of the most

illustrious Southern men of the Revolution were of this class, and many

men of distinguished position of later day have entertained the same

sentiments.

Witness the following letter of Patrick Henry, the sentiments of which

are so much an echo of those of St. Clare that the reader might suppose

one to be a copy of the other:

LETTER OF PATRICK HENRY.

_Hanover, January 18th, 1773._

DEAR SIR: I take this opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of

Anthony Benezet’s book against the slave-trade; I thank you for it.

Is it not a little surprising that the professors of Christianity,

whose chief excellence consists in softening the human heart, in

cherishing and improving its finer feelings, should encourage a

practice so totally repugnant to the first impressions of right and

wrong? What adds to the wonder is, that this abominable practice has

been introduced in the most enlightened ages. Times that seem to

have pretensions to boast of high improvements in the arts and

sciences, and refined morality, have brought into general use, and

guarded by many laws, a species of violence and tyranny which our

more rude and barbarous, but more honest ancestors detested. Is it

not amazing that at a time when the rights of humanity are defined

and understood with precision, in a country above all others fond of

liberty,—that in such an age and in such a country we find men

professing a religion the most mild, humane, gentle and generous,

adopting such a principle, as repugnant to humanity as it is

inconsistent with the Bible, and destructive to liberty? Every

thinking, honest man rejects it in speculation. How free in practice

from conscientious motives!

Would any one believe that I am master of slaves of my own purchase?

I am drawn along by the general inconvenience of living here without

them. I will not, I cannot, justify it. However culpable my conduct,

I will so far pay my devoir to virtue as to own the excellence and

rectitude of her precepts, and lament my want of conformity to them.

I believe a time will come when an opportunity will be offered to

abolish this lamentable evil. Everything we can do is to improve it,

if it happens in our day; if not, let us transmit to our

descendants, together with our slaves, a pity for their unhappy lot,

and an abhorrence for slavery. If we cannot reduce this wished-for

reformation to practice, let us treat the unhappy victims with

lenity. It is the furthest advance we can make towards justice. It

is a debt we owe to the purity of our religion, to show that it is

at variance with that law which warrants slavery.

I know not when to stop. I could say many things on the subject, a

serious view of which gives _a gloomy prospect to future times_!

What a sorrowful thing it is that such men live an inglorious life,

drawn along by the general current of society, when they ought to be its

regenerators! Has God endowed them with such nobleness of soul, such

clearness of perception, for nothing? Should they, to whom he has given

superior powers of insight and feeling, live as all the world live?

Southern men of this class have often risen up to reprove the men of the

North, when they are drawn in to apologize for the system of slavery.

Thus, on one occasion, a representative from one of the northern states,

a gentleman now occupying the very highest rank of distinction and

official station, used in Congress the following language:

The great relation of servitude, in some form or other, with greater

or less departure from the theoretic equality of men, is inseparable

from our nature. Domestic slavery is not, in my judgment, to be set

down as an immoral or irreligious relation. The slaves of this

country are better clothed and fed than the peasantry of some of the

most prosperous states of Europe.

He was answered by Mr. Mitchell, of Tennessee, in these words:

Sir, I do not go the length of the gentleman from Massachusetts, and

hold that the existence of slavery in this country is almost a

blessing. On the contrary, I am firmly settled in the opinion that

it is a great curse,—one of the greatest that could have been

interwoven in our system. I, Mr. Chairman, am one of those whom

these poor wretches call masters. I do not task them; I feed and

clothe them well; but yet, alas! they are slaves, and slavery is a

curse in any shape. It is no doubt true that there are persons in

Europe far more degraded than our slaves,—worse fed, worse clothed,

&c., but, sir, this is far from proving that negroes ought to be

slaves.

The celebrated John Randolph, of Roanoke, said in Congress, on one

occasion:

Sir, I envy neither the heart nor the head of that man from the

North who rises here to defend slavery on principle.

The following lines from the will of this eccentric man show that this

clear sense of justice, which is a gift of superior natures, at last

produced some appropriate fruits in practice:

_I give to my slaves their freedom, to which my conscience tells me

they are justly entitled._ It has a long time been a matter of the

deepest regret to me, that the circumstances under which I inherited

them, and the obstacles thrown in the way by the laws of the land,

have prevented my emancipating them in my lifetime, which it is my

full intention to do in case I can accomplish it.

The influence on such minds as these of that kind of theological

teaching which prevails in the majority of pulpits at the South, and

which justifies slavery directly from the Bible, cannot be sufficiently

regretted. Such men are shocked to find their spiritual teachers less

conscientious than themselves; and if the Biblical argument succeeds in

bewildering them, it produces scepticism with regard to the Bible

itself. Professor Stowe states that, during his residence in Ohio, he

visited at the house of a gentleman who had once been a Virginian

planter, and during the first years of his life was an avowed sceptic.

He stated that his scepticism was entirely referable to this one

cause,—that his minister had constructed a scriptural argument in

defence of slavery which he was unable to answer, and that his moral

sense was so shocked by the idea that the Bible defended such an

atrocious system, that he became an entire unbeliever, and so continued

until he came under the ministration of a clergyman in Ohio, who

succeeded in presenting to him the true scriptural view of the subject.

He immediately threw aside his scepticism, and became a member of a

Christian church.

So we hear the _Baltimore Sun_, a paper in a slave state, and no way

suspected of leaning towards abolitionism, thus scornfully disposing of

the scriptural argument:

Messrs. Burgess, Taylor & Co., Sun Iron Building, send us a copy of

a work of imposing exterior, a handsome work of nearly six hundred

pages, from the pen of Rev. Josiah Priest, A.M., and published by

Rev. W. S. Brown, M.D., at Glasgow, Kentucky, the copy before us

conveying the assurance that it is the “fifth edition—stereotyped.”

And we have no doubt it is; and the _fiftieth_ edition may be

published; but it will amount to nothing, for there is nothing in

it. The book comprises the usually quoted facts associated with the

history of slavery as recorded in the Scriptures, accompanied by the

opinions and arguments of _another_ man in relation thereto. And

this sort of thing may go on to the end of time. It can accomplish

nothing towards the perpetuation of slavery. The book is called

“Bible Defence of Slavery; and Origin, Fortunes, and History, of the

Negro Race.” Bible defence of slavery! There is no such thing as a

Bible defence of slavery at the present day. Slavery in the United

States is a social institution, originating in the convenience and

cupidity of our ancestors, existing by state laws and recognized to

a certain extent—for the recovery of slave property—by the

constitution. And nobody would pretend that, if it were inexpedient

and unprofitable for any man or any state to continue to hold

slaves, they would be bound to do so, on the ground of a “Bible

defence” of it. Slavery is recorded in the Bible, and approved, with

many degrading characteristics. War is recorded in the Bible, and

approved, under what seems to us the extreme of cruelty. But are

slavery and war to _endure_ forever, because we find them in the

Bible? Or, are they to _cease_ at once and forever, because the

Bible inculcates peace and brotherhood?

The book before us exhibits great research, but is obnoxious to

severe criticism, on account of its gratuitous assumptions. The

writer is constantly assuming this, that, and the other. In a work

of this sort, a “doubtless” this, and “no doubt” the other, and

“such is our belief,” with respect to important premises, will not

be acceptable to the intelligent reader. Many of the positions

assumed are ludicrous; and the fancy of the writer runs to

exuberance in putting words and speeches into the mouths of the

ancients, predicated upon the brief record of Scripture history. The

argument from the _curse of Ham_ is not worth the paper it is

written upon. It is just equivalent to that of _Blackwood’s

Magazine_, we remember examining some years since, in reference to

the admission of Rothschild to Parliament. The writer maintained the

religious obligation of the _Christian_ public to perpetuate the

political disabilities of the Jews, because it would be resisting

the Divine will to remove them, in view of the “curse” which the

aforesaid Christian Pharisee understood to be levelled against the

sons of Abraham. Admitting that God has cursed both the Jewish race

and the descendants of Ham, He is able to fulfil His purpose, though

the “rest of mankind” should in all things act up to the benevolent

precepts of the “Divine law.” _Man_ may very safely cultivate the

highest principles of the Christian dispensation, and leave God to

work out the fulfilment of His _curse_.

According to the same book and the same logic, all mankind being

under a “curse,” none of us ought to work out any alleviation for

ourselves, and we are sinning heinously in harnessing steam to the

performance of manual labor, cutting wheat by McCormick’s

_diablerie_, and laying hold of the lightning to carry our messages

for us, instead of footing it ourselves as our father Adam did. With

a little more common sense, and much less of the uncommon sort, we

should better understand Scripture, the institutions under which we

live, the several rights of our fellow-citizens in all sections of

the country, and the good, sound, practical, social relations, which

ought to contribute infinitely more than they do to the happiness of

mankind.

If the reader wishes to know what kind of preaching it is that St. Clare

alludes to, when he says he can learn what is quite as much to the

purpose from the _Picayune_, and that such scriptural expositions of

their peculiar relations don’t edify him much, he is referred to the

following extract from a sermon preached in New Orleans, by the Rev.

Theophilus Clapp. Let our reader now imagine that he sees St. Clare

seated in the front slip, waggishly taking notes of the following

specimen of ethics and humanity.

Let all Christian teachers show our servants the importance of being

submissive, obedient, industrious, honest and faithful to the

interests of their masters. Let their minds be filled with sweet

anticipations of rest eternal beyond the grave. Let them be trained

to direct their views to that fascinating and glorious futurity,

where the sins, sorrows, and troubles of earth, will be contemplated

under the aspect of means indispensable to our everlasting progress

in knowledge, virtue and happiness. I would say to every slave in

the United States, “You should realize that a wise, kind, and

merciful Providence has appointed for you your condition in life;

and, all things considered, you could not be more eligibly situated.

The burden of your care, toils and responsibilities, is much lighter

than that which God has imposed on your master. The most enlightened

philanthropists, with unlimited resources, could not place you in a

situation more favorable to your present and everlasting welfare

than that which you now occupy. You have your troubles. So have all.

Remember how evanescent are the pleasures and joys of human life.”

But, as Mr. Clapp will not, perhaps, be accepted as a representation of

orthodoxy, let him be supposed to listen to the following declarations

of the Rev. James Smylie, a clergyman of great influence in the

Presbyterian church, in a tract upon slavery, which he states in the

introduction to have been written with particular reference to removing

the conscientious scruples of religious people in Mississippi and

Louisiana, with regard to its propriety.

If I believed, or was of opinion, that it was the legitimate

tendency of the gospel to abolish slavery, how would I approach a

man, possessing as many slaves as Abraham had, and tell him I wished

to obtain his permission to preach to his slaves?

Suppose the man to be ignorant of the gospel, and that he would

inquire of me what was my object. I would tell him candidly (and

every minister ought to be candid) that I wished to preach the

gospel, because its legitimate tendency is to make his slaves

honest, trusty and faithful: not serving “with eye service, as men

pleasers,” “not purloining, but showing all good fidelity.” “And is

this,” he would ask, “really the tendency of the gospel?” I would

answer, Yes. Then I might expect that a man who had a thousand

slaves, if he believed me, would not only permit me to preach to his

slaves, but would do more. He would be willing to build me a house,

furnish me a garden, and ample provision for a support. Because, he

would conclude, _verily, that this preacher would be worth more to

him than a dozen overseers_. But, suppose, then, he would tell me

that he had understood that the tendency of the gospel was to

abolish slavery, and inquire of me if that was the fact. Ah! this is

the rub. He has now cornered me. What shall I say? Shall I, like a

dishonest man, twist and dodge, and shift and turn, to evade an

answer? No. I must Kentuckian like, come out, _broad, flat-footed_,

and tell him that _abolition is the tendency of the gospel_. What am

I now to calculate upon? I have told the man that it is the tendency

of the gospel to make him so poor as to oblige him to take hold of

the maul and wedge himself; he must catch, curry, and saddle his own

horse; he must black his own _brogans_ (for he will not be able to

buy boots). His wife must go, herself, to the wash-tub, take hold of

the scrubbing-broom, wash the pots, and cook all that she and her

rail mauler will eat.

_Query._—Is it to be expected that a master ignorant heretofore of

the tendency of the gospel would fall so desperately in love with

it, from a knowledge of its tendency, that he would encourage the

preaching of it among his slaves? Verily, NO.

But suppose, when he put the last question to me, as to its

tendency, I _could_ and _would_, without a twist or quibble, tell

him, _plainly_ and _candidly_, that it was a slander on the gospel

to say that emancipation or abolition was its legitimate tendency. I

would tell him that the commandments of _some_ men, and not the

commandments of God, made slavery a sin.—_Smylie on Slavery_, p. 71.

One can imagine the expression of countenance and tone of voice with

which St. Clare would receive such expositions of the gospel. It is to

be remarked that this tract does not contain the opinions of one man

only, but that it has in its appendix a letter from two ecclesiastical

bodies of the Presbyterian church, substantially endorsing its

sentiments.

Can any one wonder that a man like St. Clare should put such questions

as these?

“Is what you hear at church religion? Is that which can bend and turn,

and descend and ascend, to fit every crooked phase of selfish, worldly

society, religion? Is _that_ religion, which is less scrupulous, less

generous, less just, less considerate for man, than even my own ungodly,

worldly, blinded nature? No! When I look for a religion, I must look for

something above me, and not something beneath.”

The character of St. Clare was drawn by the writer with enthusiasm and

with hope. Will this hope never be realized? Will those men at the

South, to whom God has given the power to perceive and the heart to feel

the unutterable wrong and injustice of slavery, always remain silent and

inactive? What nobler ambition to a Southern man than to deliver his

country from this disgrace? From the South must the deliverer arise. How

long shall he delay? There is a crown brighter than any earthly ambition

has ever worn,—there is a laurel which will not fade: it is prepared and

waiting for that hero who shall rise up for liberty at the South, and

free that noble and beautiful country from the burden and disgrace of

slavery.

CHAPTER X.

LEGREE.

As St. Clare and the Shelbys are the representatives of one class of

masters, so Legree is the representative of another; and, as all good

masters are not as enlightened, as generous, and as considerate, as St.

Clare and Mr. Shelby, or as careful and successful in religious training

as Mrs. Shelby, so all bad masters do not unite the personal ugliness,

the coarseness and profaneness, of Legree.

Legree is introduced not for the sake of vilifying masters as a class,

but for the sake of bringing to the minds of honorable Southern men, who

are masters, a very important feature in the system of slavery, upon

which, perhaps, they have never reflected. It is this: that _no Southern

law requires any test of_ CHARACTER _from the man to whom the absolute

power of master is granted_.

In the second part of this book it will be shown that the legal power of

the master amounts to an absolute despotism over body and soul; and that

there is no protection for the slave’s life or limb, his family

relations, his conscience, nay, more, his eternal interests, but the

CHARACTER of the master.

Rev. Charles C. Jones, of Georgia, in addressing masters, tells them

that they have the power to open the kingdom of heaven or to shut it, to

their slaves (_Religious Instruction of the Negroes_, p. 158), and a

South Carolinian, in a recent article in _Fraser’s Magazine_, apparently

in a very serious spirit, thus acknowledges the fact of this awful

power: “Yes, we would have the whole South to feel that the _soul_ of

the slave is in some sense in the master’s keeping, and to be charged

against him hereafter.”

Now, it is respectfully submitted to men of this high class, who are the

law-makers, whether this awful power to bind and to loose, to open and

to shut the kingdom of heaven, ought to be intrusted to every man in the

community, without any other qualification than that of property to buy.

Let this gentleman of South Carolina cast his eyes around the world. Let

him travel for one week through any district of country either in the

South or the North, and ask himself how many of the men whom he meets

are fit to be trusted with this power,—how many are fit to be trusted

with their own souls, much less with those of others?

Now, in all the theory of government as it is managed in our country,

just in proportion to the extent of power is the strictness with which

qualification for the proper exercise of it is demanded. The physician

may not meddle with the body, to prescribe for its ailments, without a

certificate that he is properly qualified. The judge may not decide on

the laws which relate to property, without a long course of training,

and most abundant preparation. It is only this office of MASTER, which

contains the power to bind and to loose, and to open and shut the

kingdom of heaven, and involves responsibility for the soul as well as

the body, that is thrown out to every hand, and committed without

inquiry to any man of any character. A man may have made all his

property by piracy upon the high seas, as we have represented in the

case of Legree, and there is no law whatever to prevent his investing

that property in acquiring this absolute control over the souls and

bodies of his fellow-beings. To the half-maniac drunkard, to the man

notorious for hardness and cruelty, to the man sunk entirely below

public opinion, to the bitter infidel and blasphemer, the law confides

this power, just as freely as to the most honorable and religious man on

earth. And yet, men who make and uphold these laws think they are

guiltless before God, because individually they do not perpetrate the

wrongs which they allow others to perpetrate!

To the pirate Legree the law gives a power which no man of woman born,

save One, ever was good enough to exercise.

Are there such men as Legree? Let any one go into the low districts and

dens of New York, let them go into some of the lanes and alleys of

London, and will they not there see many Legrees? Nay, take the purest

district of New England, and let people cast about in their memory and

see if there have not been men there, hard, coarse, unfeeling, brutal,

who, if they had possessed the absolute power of Legree, would have used

it in the same way; and that there should be Legrees in the Southern

States, is only saying that human nature is the same there that it is

everywhere. The only difference is this,—that in free states Legree is

chained and restrained by law; in the slave states, the law makes him an

absolute, irresponsible despot.

It is a shocking task to confirm by fact this part of the writer’s

story. One may well approach it in fear and trembling. It is so mournful

to think that man, made in the image of God, and by his human birth a

brother of Jesus Christ, can sink so low, can do such things as the very

soul shudders to contemplate,—and to think that the very man who thus

sinks is our brother,—is capable, like us, of the renewal by the Spirit

of grace, by which he might be created in the image of Christ and be

made equal unto the angels. They who uphold the laws which grant this

awful power have another heavy responsibility, of which they little

dream. How many souls of masters have been ruined through it! How has

this absolute authority provoked and developed wickedness which

otherwise might have been suppressed! How many have stumbled into

everlasting perdition over this stumbling-stone of IRRESPONSIBLE POWER!

What facts do the judicial trials of slaveholding states occasionally

develop! What horrible records defile the pages of the law-book,

describing unheard-of scenes of torture and agony, perpetrated in this

nineteenth century of the Christian era, by the irresponsible despot who

owns the body and soul! Let any one read, if they can, the ninety-third

page of Weld’s _Slavery as It Is_, where the Rev. Mr. Dickey gives an

account of a trial in Kentucky for a deed of butchery and blood too

repulsive to humanity to be here described. The culprit was convicted,

and _sentenced_ to death. Mr. Dickey’s account of the finale is thus:

The Court sat—Isham was judged to be guilty of a capital crime in

the affair of George. He was to be hanged at Salem. The day was set.

My good old father visited him in the prison—two or three times

talked and prayed with him; I visited him once myself. We fondly

hoped that he was a sincere penitent. Before the day of execution

came, by some means, I never knew what, Isham was _missing_. About

two years after, we learned that he had gone down to Natchez, and

had married a lady of some refinement and piety. I saw her letters

to his sisters, who were worthy members of the church of which I was

pastor. The last letter told of his death. He was in Jackson’s army,

and fell in the famous battle of New Orleans.

I am, sir, your friend,

WM. DICKEY.

But the reader will have too much reason to know of the possibility of

the existence of such men as Legree, when he comes to read the records

of the trials and judicial decisions in Part II.

Let not the Southern country be taunted as the only country in the world

which produces such men;—let us in sorrow and in humility concede that

such men are found everywhere; but let not the Southern country deny the

awful charge that she invests such men with absolute, irresponsible

power over both the body and the soul.

With regard to that atrocious system of working up the human being in a

given time, on which Legree is represented as conducting his plantation,

there is unfortunately too much reason to know that it has been

practised and is still practised.

In Mr. Weld’s book, “Slavery as It Is,” under the head of Labor, p. 39,

are given several extracts from various documents, to show that this

system has been pursued on some plantations to such an extent as to

shorten life, and to prevent the increase of the slave population, so

that, unless annually renewed, it would of itself die out. Of these

documents we quote the following:

The Agricultural Society of Baton Rouge, La., in its report,

published in 1829, furnishes a labored estimate of the amount of

expenditure necessarily incurred in conducting “a well-regulated

sugar estate.” In this estimate, the annual net loss of slaves, over

and above the supply by propagation, is set down at TWO AND A HALF

PER CENT.! The late Hon. Josiah S. Johnson, a member of Congress

from Louisiana, addressed a letter to the Secretary of the United

States’ Treasury, in 1830, containing a similar estimate, apparently

made with great care, and going into minute details. Many items in

this estimate differ from the preceding; but the estimate of the

annual _decrease_ of the slaves on a plantation was the same,—TWO

AND A HALF PER CENT.!

In September, 1834, the writer of this had an interview with James

G. Birney, Esq., who then resided in Kentucky, having removed, with

his family, from Alabama, the year before. A few hours before that

interview, and on the morning of the same day, Mr. B. had spent a

couple of hours with Hon. Henry Clay, at his residence, near

Lexington. Mr. Birney remarked that Mr. Clay had just told him he

had lately been led to mistrust certain estimates as to the increase

of the slave population in the far South-west,—estimates which he

had presented, I think, in a speech before the Colonization Society.

He now believed that the births among the slaves in that quarter

were _not equal to the deaths_; and that, of course, the slave

population, independent of immigration from the slave-selling

states, was _not sustaining itself_.

Among other facts stated by Mr. Clay was the following, which we

copy _verbatim_ from the original memorandum made at the time by Mr.

Birney, with which he has kindly furnished us.

“_Sept. 16, 1834._—Hon. H. Clay, in a conversation at his own house

on the subject of slavery, informed me that Hon. Outerbridge

Horsey—formerly a senator in Congress from the State of Delaware,

and the owner of a sugar plantation in Louisiana—declared to him

that his overseer worked his hands so closely that one of the women

brought forth a child whilst engaged in the labors of the field.

“Also that, a few years since, he was at a brick-yard in the

environs of New Orleans, in which one hundred hands were employed;

among them were from _twenty to thirty young women_, in the prime of

life. He was told by the proprietor that there had _not been a child

born among them for the last two or three years, although they all

had husbands_.”

The late Mr. Samuel Blackwell, a highly-respected citizen of Jersey

City, opposite the city of New York, and a member of the

Presbyterian church, visited many of the sugar plantations in

Louisiana a few years since; and having, for many years, been the

owner of an extensive sugar refinery in England, and subsequently in

this country, he had not only every facility afforded him by the

planters for personal inspection of all parts of the process of

sugar-making, but received from them the most unreserved

communications as to their management of their slaves. Mr. B., after

his return, frequently made the following statement to gentlemen of

his acquaintance:—“That the planters generally declared to him that

they were _obliged_ so to over-work their slaves, during the

sugar-making season (from eight to ten weeks), as to _use them up_

in seven or eight years. For, said they, after the process is

commenced, it must be pushed, without cessation, night and day; and

we cannot afford to keep a sufficient number of slaves to do the

_extra_ work at the time of sugar-making, as we could not profitably

employ them the rest of the year.”

Dr. Demming, a gentleman of high respectability, residing in

Ashland, Richland County, Ohio, stated to Professor Wright, of New

York city,

“That, during a recent tour at the South, while ascending the Ohio

river, on the steamboat Fame, he had an opportunity of conversing

with a Mr. Dickinson, a resident of Pittsburg, in company with a

number of cotton-planters and slave-dealers from Louisiana, Alabama

and Mississippi. Mr. Dickinson stated as a fact, that the

sugar-planters upon the sugar-coast in Louisiana had ascertained

that, as it was usually necessary to employ about _twice_ the amount

of labor during the boiling season that was required during the

season of raising, they could, by excessive driving, day and night,

during the boiling season, accomplish the whole labor _with one set

of hands_. By pursuing this plan, they could afford _to sacrifice a

set of hands once in seven years_! He further stated that this

horrible system was now practised to a considerable extent! The

correctness of this statement was substantially admitted by the

slave-holders then on board.”

The following testimony of Rev. Dr. Channing, of Boston, who resided

some time in Virginia, shows that the over-working of slaves, to

such an extent as to abridge life, and cause a decrease of

population, is not confined to the far South and South-west.

“I heard of an estate managed by an individual who was considered as

singularly successful, and who was able to govern the slaves without

the use of the whip. I was anxious to see him; and trusted that some

discovery had been made favorable to humanity. I asked him how he

was able to dispense with corporal punishment. He replied to me,

with a very determined look, ‘The slaves know that the work _must_

be done, and that it is better to do it without punishment than with

it.’ In other words, the certainty and dread of chastisement were so

impressed on them that they never incurred it.

“I then found that the slaves on this well-managed estate

_decreased_ in number. I asked the cause. He replied, with perfect

frankness and ease, ‘The gang is not large enough for the estate.’

In other words, they were not equal to the work of the plantation,

and yet were _made to do it_, though with the certainty of abridging

life.

“On this plantation the huts were uncommonly convenient. There was

an unusual air of neatness. A superficial observer would have called

the slaves happy. Yet they were living under a severe, subduing

discipline, and were _over-worked_ to a degree that _shortened

life_.”—_Channing on Slavery_, page 162, first edition.

A friend of the writer—the Rev. Mr. Barrows, now officiating as teacher

of Hebrew in Andover Theological Seminary—stated the following, in

conversation with her:—That, while at New Orleans, some time since, he

was invited by a planter to visit his estate, as he considered it to be

a model one. He found good dwellings for the slaves, abundant provision

distributed to them, all cruel punishments superseded by rational and

reasonable ones, and half a day every week allowed to the negroes to

cultivate their own grounds. Provision was also made for their moral and

religious instruction. Mr. Barrows then asked the planter,

“Do you consider your estate a fair specimen?” The gentleman replied,

“There are two systems pursued among us. One is, to make all we can out

of a negro in a few years, and then supply his place with another; and

the other is, to treat him as I do. My neighbor on the next plantation

pursues the opposite system. His boys are hard worked and scantily fed;

and I have had them come to me, and get down on their knees to beg me to

buy them.”

Mr. Barrows says he subsequently passed by this plantation, and that the

woe-struck, dejected aspect of its laborers fully confirmed the account.

He also says that the gentleman who managed so benevolently told him, “I

do not make much money out of my slaves.”

It will be easy to show that such is the nature of slavery, and the

temptations of masters, that such well-regulated plantations are and

must be infinitely in the minority, and exceptional cases.

The Rev. Charles C. Jones, a man of the finest feelings of humanity, and

for many years an assiduous laborer for the benefit of the slave,

himself the owner of a plantation, and qualified, therefore, to judge,

both by experience and observation, says, after speaking of the great

improvidence of the negroes, engendered by slavery:

And, indeed, once for all, I will here say that the wastes of the

system are so great, as well as the fluctuation in prices of the

staple articles for market, that it is _difficult, nay, impossible_,

to indulge in large expenditures on plantations, and make them

savingly profitable.—_Religious Instruction_, p. 116.

If even the religious and benevolent master feels the difficulty of

uniting any great consideration for the comfort of the slave with

prudence and economy, how readily must the moral question be solved by

minds of the coarse style of thought which we have supposed in Legree!

“I used to, when I first begun, have considerable trouble fussin’

with ‘em, and trying to make ‘em hold out,—doctorin’ on ‘em up when

they’s sick, and givin’ on ‘em clothes, and blankets, and what not,

trying to keep ‘em all sort o’ decent and comfortable. Law, ‘twant

no sort o’ use; I lost money on ‘em, and ‘twas heaps o’ trouble.

Now, you see, I just put ‘em straight through, sick or well. When

one nigger’s dead, I buy another; and I find it comes cheaper and

easier every way.”

Added to this, the peculiar mode of labor on the sugar plantation is

such that the master, at a certain season of the year, must over-work

his slaves, unless he is willing to incur great pecuniary loss. In that

very gracefully written apology for slavery, Professor Ingraham’s

“Travels in the South-west,” the following description of sugar-making

is given. We quote from him in preference to any one else, because he

speaks as an apologist, and describes the thing with the grace of a Mr.

Skimpole.

When the grinding has once commenced, there is no cessation of labor

till it is completed. From beginning to end a busy and cheerful

scene continues. The negroes,

“—— Whose sore task

Does not divide the Sunday from the week,”

work from eighteen to twenty hours,

“And make the night joint laborer with the day;”

though, to lighten the burden as much as possible, the gang is

divided into two watches, one taking the first and the other the

last part of the night; and, notwithstanding this continued labor,

the negroes improve in appearance, and appear fat and flourishing.

They drink freely of cane-juice, and the sickly among them revive,

and become robust and healthy.

After the grinding is finished, the negroes have several holidays,

when they are quite at liberty to dance and frolic as much as they

please; and the cane-song—which is improvised by one of the gang,

the rest all joining in a prolonged and unintelligible chorus—now

breaks, night and day, upon the ear, in notes “most musical, most

melancholy.”

The above is inserted as a specimen of the facility with which the most

horrible facts may be told in the genteelest phrase. In a work entitled

“Travels in Louisiana in 1802” is the following extract (see Weld’s

“Slavery as It Is,” p. 134), from which it appears that this _cheerful_

process of laboring night and day lasts _three months_!

“At the rolling of sugars, an interval of from two to three months,

they (the slaves in Louisiana) work _both night and day_. Abridged

of their sleep, they scarcely retire to rest during the whole

period.”

Now, let any one learn the private history of seven hundred blacks,—men

and women,—compelled to work day and night, under the lash of a driver,

for a period of three months.

Possibly, if the gentleman who wrote this account were employed, with

his wife and family, in this “cheerful scene” of labor,—if he saw the

woman that he loved, the daughter who was dear to him as his own soul,

forced on in the general gang, in this toil which

“Does not divide the Sabbath from the week,

And makes the night joint laborer with the day,”

—possibly, if he saw all this, he might have another opinion of its

cheerfulness; and it might be an eminently salutary thing if every

apologist for slavery were to enjoy some such privilege for a season,

particularly as Mr. Ingraham is careful to tell us that its effect upon

the general health is so excellent that the negroes improve in

appearance, and appear fat and flourishing, and that the sickly among

them revive, and become robust and healthy. One would think it a

surprising fact, if working slaves night and day, and giving them

cane-juice to drink, really produces such salutary results, that the

practice should not be continued the whole year round; though, perhaps,

in this case, the negroes would become so fat as to be unable to labor.

Possibly, it is because this healthful process is not longer continued

that the agricultural societies of Louisiana are obliged to set down an

annual loss of slaves on sugar plantations to the amount of two and a

half per cent. This ought to be looked into by philanthropists. Perhaps

working them all night for six months, instead of three, might remedy

the evil.

But this periodical pressure is not confined to the making of sugar.

There is also a press in the cotton season, as any one can observe by

reading the Southern newspapers. At a certain season of the year, the

whole interest of the community is engaged in gathering in the cotton

crop. Concerning this Mr. Weld says (“Slavery as It Is,” page 34):

In the cotton and sugar region there is a fearful amount of

desperate gambling, in which, though money is the ostensible stake

and forfeit, _human life_ is the real one. The length to which this

rivalry is carried at the South and South-west, the multitude of

planters who engage in it, and the recklessness of human life

exhibited in driving the murderous game to its issue, cannot well be

imagined by one who has not lived in the midst of it. Desire of gain

is only one of the motives that stimulates them; the _éclat_ of

having made the largest crop with a given number of hands is also a

powerful stimulant; the Southern newspapers, at the crop season,

chronicle carefully the “cotton brag,” and the “crack

cotton-picking,” and “unparalleled driving,” &c. Even the editors of

professedly religious papers cheer on the _mêlée_, and sing the

triumphs of the victor. Among these we recollect the celebrated Rev.

J. N. Maffit, recently editor of a religious paper at Natchez,

Miss., in which he took care to assign a prominent place and

capitals to “THE COTTON BRAG.”

As a specimen, of recent date, of this kind of affair, we subjoin the

following from the _Fairfield Herald_, Winsboro’, S. C., Nov. 4, 1852.

COTTON-PICKING.

We find in many of our southern and western exchanges notices of the

amount of cotton picked by hands, and the quantity by each hand;

and, as we have received a similar account, which we have not seen

excelled, so far as regards the quantity picked by one hand, we with

pleasure furnish the statement, with the remark that it is from a

citizen of this district, overseeing for Maj. H. W. Parr.

“_Broad River, Oct. 12, 1852._

“MESSRS. EDITORS:—By way of contributing something to your variety

(provided it meets your approbation), I send you the return of a

day’s picking of cotton, not by picked hands, but the fag end of a

set of hands on one plantation, the able-bodied hands having been

drawn out for other purposes. Now for the result of a day’s picking,

from sun-up until sun-down, by twenty-two hands,—women, boys, and

two men:—four thousand eight hundred and eighty pounds of clean

picked cotton, from the stalk.

“The highest, three hundred and fifty pounds, by several; the

lowest, one hundred and fifteen pounds. One of the number has picked

in the last seven and a half days (Sunday excepted), eleven hours

each day, nineteen hundred pounds clean cotton. When any of my

agricultural friends beat this, in the same time, and during

sunshine, I will try again.

JAMES STEWARD.”

It seems that this agriculturist professes to have accomplished all

these extraordinary results with what he very elegantly terms the “fag

end” of a set of hands; and, the more to exalt his glory in the matter,

he distinctly informs the public that there were no “able-bodied” hands

employed; that this whole triumphant result was worked out of women and

children, and two disabled men; in other words, he boasts that out of

women and children, and the feeble and sickly, _he_ has extracted four

thousand eight hundred and eighty pounds of clean picked cotton in a

day; and that one of these same hands has been made to pick nineteen

hundred pounds of clean cotton in a week! and adds, complacently, that,

when any of his agricultural friends beat this, in the same time, and

during sunshine, he “will try again.”

Will any of our readers now consider the forcing up of the hands on

Legree’s plantation an exaggeration? Yet see how complacently this

account is quoted by the editor, as a most praiseworthy and laudable

thing!

“BEHOLD THE HIRE OF THE LABORERS WHO HAVE REAPED DOWN YOUR FIELDS, WHICH

IS OF YOU KEPT BACK BY FRAUD, CRIETH! AND THE CRIES OF THEM WHICH HAVE

REAPED ARE ENTERED INTO THE EARS OF THE LORD OF SABAOTH.”

That the representations of the style of dwelling-house, modes of

housekeeping, and, in short, the features of life generally, as

described on Legree’s plantation, are not wild and fabulous drafts on

the imagination, or exaggerated pictures of exceptional cases, there is

the most abundant testimony before the world, and has been for a long

number of years. Let the reader weigh the following testimony with

regard to the dwellings of the negroes, which has been for some years

before the world, in the work of Mr. Weld. It shows the state of things

in this respect, at least up to the year 1838.

Mr. Stephen E. Maltby, Inspector of Provisions, Skaneateles, N. Y.,

who has lived in Alabama.—“The huts where the slaves slept generally

contained but _one_ apartment, and that _without floor_.”

Mr. George A. Avery, elder of the 4th Presbyterian Church,

Rochester, N. Y., who lived four years in Virginia.—“Amongst all the

negro cabins which I saw in Virginia, _I cannot call to mind one_ in

which there was any other floor than the _earth_; anything that a

Northern laborer, or mechanic, white or colored, would call a _bed_,

nor a solitary _partition_, to separate the sexes.”

William Ladd, Esq., Minot, Maine, President of the American Peace

Society, formerly a slave-holder in Florida.—“The dwellings of the

slaves were palmetto huts, built by themselves of stakes and poles,

thatched with the palmetto-leaf. The door, when they had any, was

generally of the same materials, sometimes boards found on the

beach. They had _no floors_, no separate apartments; except the

Guinea negroes had sometimes a small enclosure for their ‘god

houses.’ These huts the slaves built themselves after task and on

Sundays.”

Rev. Joseph M. Sadd, pastor Presbyterian Church, Castile, Greene

Co., N. Y., who lived in Missouri five years previous to 1837.—“The

slaves live _generally_ in _miserable huts_, which are _without

floors_; and have a single apartment only, where both sexes are

herded promiscuously together.”

Mr. George W. Westgate, member of the Congregational church in

Quincy, Illinois, who has spent a number of years in slave

states.—“On old plantations the negro quarters are of frame and

clapboards, seldom affording a comfortable shelter from wind or

rain; their size varies from eight by ten to ten by twelve feet, and

six or eight feet high; sometimes there is a hole cut for a window,

but I never saw a sash, or glass, in any. In the new country, and in

the woods, the quarters are generally built of logs, of similar

dimensions.”

Mr. Cornelius Johnson, a member of a Christian church in Farmington,

Ohio. Mr. J. lived in Mississippi in 1837–8.—“Their houses were

commonly built of logs; sometimes they were framed, often they had

no floor; some of them have two apartments, commonly but one; each

of those apartments contained a family. Sometimes these families

consisted of a man and his wife and children, while in other

instances persons of both sexes were thrown together, without any

regard to family relationship.”

The _Western Medical Reformer_, in an article on the Cachexia

Africana, by a Kentucky physician, thus speaks of the huts of the

slaves: “They are _crowded_ together in a _small hut_, and sometimes

having an imperfect and sometimes no floor, and seldom raised from

the ground, ill ventilated, and surrounded with filth.”

Mr. William Leftwich, a native of Virginia, but has resided most of

his life in Madison Co., Alabama.—“The dwellings of the slaves are

log huts, from ten to twelve feet square, often without windows,

doors or floors; they have neither chairs, table, or bedstead.”

Reuben L. Macy, of Hudson, N. Y., a member of the religious society

of Friends. He lived in South Carolina in 1818–19.—“The houses for

the field-slaves were about fourteen feet square, built in the

coarsest manner, with one room, _without any chimney or flooring,

with a hole in the roof to let the smoke out_.”

Mr. Lemuel Sapington, of Lancaster, Pa., a native of Maryland,

formerly a slave-holder.—“The descriptions generally given of negro

quarters are correct; the quarters are _without floors, and not

sufficient to keep off the inclemency of the weather_; they are

uncomfortable both in summer and winter.”

Rev. John Rankin, a native of Tennessee.—“When they return to their

miserable huts at night, they find not there the means of

comfortable rest; but _on the cold ground they must lie without

covering, and shiver while they slumber_.”

Philemon Bliss, Esq., Elyria, Ohio, who lived in Florida in

1835.—“The dwellings of the slaves are usually small _open_ log

huts, with but one apartment, and very generally _without floors_.”

_Slavery as It Is_, p. 43.

The Rev. C. C. Jones, to whom we have already alluded, when taking a

survey of the condition of the negroes considered as a field for

missionary effort, takes into account all the conditions of their

external life. He speaks of a part of Georgia where as much attention

had been paid to the comfort of the negro as in any part of the United

States. He gives the following picture:

Their _general mode of living_ is coarse and vulgar. Many negro

houses are small, low to the ground, blackened with smoke, often

with dirt floors, and the furniture of the plainest kind. On some

estates the houses are framed, weather-boarded, neatly white-washed,

and made sufficiently large and comfortable in every respect. The

improvement in the size, material and finish, of negro houses, is

extending. Occasionally they may be found constructed of tabby or

brick.

_Religious Instruction of the Negroes_, p. 116.

Now, admitting what Mr. Jones says, to wit, that improvements with

regard to the accommodation of the negroes are continually making among

enlightened and Christian people, still, if we take into account how

many people there are who are neither enlightened nor Christian, how

unproductive of any benefit to the master all these improvements are,

and how entirely, therefore, they must be the result either of native

generosity or of Christian sentiment, the reader may fairly conclude

that such improvements are the exception, rather than the rule.

A friend of the writer, travelling in Georgia during the last month,

thus writes:

Upon the long line of rice and cotton plantations extending along

the railroad from Savannah to this city, the negro quarters contain

scarcely a single hut which a Northern farmer would deem fit shelter

for his cattle. They are all built of poles, with the ends so

slightly notched that they are almost as open as children’s

cob-houses (which they very much resemble), without a single glazed

window, and with only one mud chimney to each cluster of from four

to eight cabins. And yet our fellow-travellers were quietly

expatiating upon the negro’s strange inability to endure cold

weather!

Let this modern picture be compared with the account given by the Rev.

Horace Moulton, who spent five years in Georgia between 1817 and 1824,

and it will be seen, in that state at least, there is some resemblance

between the more remote and more recent

The huts of the slaves are mostly of the poorest kind. They are not

as good as those temporary shanties which are thrown up beside

railroads. They are erected with posts and crotches, with but little

or no frame-work about them. They have no stoves or chimneys; some

of them have something like a fireplace at one end, and a board or

two off at that side, or on the roof, to let off the smoke. Others

have nothing like a fireplace in them; in these the fire is

sometimes made in the middle of the hut. These buildings have but

one apartment in them; the places where they pass in and out serve

both for doors and windows; the sides and roofs are covered with

coarse, and in many instances with refuse boards. In warm weather,

especially in the spring, the slaves keep up a smoke, or fire and

smoke, all night, to drive away the gnats and mosquitos, which are

very troublesome in all the low country of the South; so much so

that the whites sleep under frames with nets over them, knit so fine

that the mosquitos cannot fly through them.

_Slavery as It Is_, p. 19.

The same Mr. Moulton gives the following account of the food of the

slaves, and the mode of procedure on the plantation on which he was

engaged. It may be here mentioned that at the time he was at the South

he was engaged in certain business relations which caused him frequently

to visit different plantations, and to have under his control many of

the slaves. His opportunities for observation, therefore, were quite

intimate. There is a homely matter-of-fact distinctness in the style

that forbids the idea of its being a fancy sketch:

It was a general custom, wherever I have been, for the master to

give each of his slaves, male and female, _one peck of corn per

week_ for their food. This, at fifty cents per bushel, which was all

that it was worth when I was there, would amount to twelve and a

half cents per week for board per head.

It cost me, upon an average, when at the South, one dollar per day

for board;—the price of fourteen bushels of corn per week. This

would make my board equal in amount to the board of _forty-six

slaves_! This is all that good or bad masters allow their slaves,

round about Savannah, on the plantations. One peck of gourd-seed

corn is to be measured out to each slave once every week. One man

with whom I labored, however, being desirous to get all the work out

of his hands he could, before I left (about fifty in number), bought

for them every week, or twice a week, a beef’s head from market.

With this they made a soup in a large iron kettle, around which the

hands came at meal-time, and dipping out the soup, would mix it with

their hominy, and eat it as though it were a feast. This man

permitted his slaves to eat twice a day while I was doing a job for

him. He promised me a beaver hat, and as good a suit of clothes as

could be bought in the city, if I would accomplish so much for him

before I returned to the North; giving me the entire control over

his slaves. Thus you may see the temptations overseers sometimes

have, to get all the work they can out of the poor slaves. The above

is an exception to the general rule of feeding. For, in all other

places where I worked and visited, the slaves had _nothing from

their masters but the corn_, or its equivalent in potatoes or rice;

and to this they were not permitted to come but _once a day_. The

custom was to blow the horn early in the morning, as a signal for

the hands to rise and go to work. When commenced, they continue work

until about eleven o’clock A. M., when, at the signal, all hands

left off, and went into their huts, made their fires, made their

corn-meal into hominy or cake, ate it, and went to work again at the

signal of the horn, and worked until night, or until their tasks

were done. Some cooked their breakfast in the field while at work.

Each slave must grind his own corn in a hand-mill after he has done

his work at night. There is generally one hand-mill on every

plantation for the use of the slaves.

Some of the planters have no corn; others often get out. The

substitute for it is the equivalent of one peck of corn, either in

rice or sweet potatoes, neither of which is as good for the slaves

as corn. They complain more of being faint when fed on rice or

potatoes than when fed on corn. I was with one man a few weeks who

gave me his hands to do a job of work, and, to save time, one cooked

for all the rest. The following course was taken:—Two crotched

sticks were driven down at one end of the yard, and, a small pole

being laid on the crotches, they swung a large iron kettle on the

middle of the pole; then made up a fire under the kettle, and boiled

the hominy; when ready, the hands were called around this kettle

with their wooden plates and spoons. They dipped out and ate

standing around the kettle, or sitting upon the ground, as best

suited their convenience. When they had potatoes, they took them out

with their hands, and ate them.

_Slavery as It Is_, p. 18.

Thomas Clay, Esq., a slave-holder of Georgia, and a most benevolent man,

and who interested himself very successfully in endeavoring to promote

the improvement of the negroes, in his address before the Georgia

Presbytery, 1833, says of their food, “The quantity allowed by custom is

a _peck of corn a week_.”

The _Maryland Journal and Baltimore Advertiser_, May 30, 1788, says, “A

single peck of corn, or the same measure of rice, is the ordinary

provision for a hard-working slave, to which a small quantity of meat is

occasionally, though rarely, added.”

Captain William Ladd, of Minot, Maine, formerly a slave-holder in

Florida, says, “The usual allowance of food was a quart of corn a day to

a full-task hand, with a modicum of salt; _kind_ masters allowed a peck

of corn a week.”

The law of North Carolina provides that the master shall give his slave

a quart of corn a day, which is less than a peck a week by one

quart.—_Haywood’s Manual_, 525; _Slavery as It Is_, p. 29. The master,

therefore, who gave a peck a week would feel that he was going beyond

the law, and giving a quart for generosity.

This condition of things will appear far more probable in the section of

country where the scene of the story is laid. It is in the south-western

states, where no provision is _raised_ on the plantations, but the

supply for the slaves is all purchased from the more northern states.

Let the reader now imagine the various temptations which might

occur to retrench the allowance of the slaves, under these

circumstances;—scarcity of money, financial embarrassment, high

price of provisions, and various causes of the kind, bring a great

influence upon the master or overseer.

At the time when it was discussed whether the State of Missouri should

be admitted as a slave state, the measure, like all measures for the

advancement of this horrible system, was advocated on the good old plea

of humanity to the negroes; thus Mr. Alexander Smyth, in his speech on

the slavery question, Jan. 21, 1820, says:

By confining the slaves to the Southern States, where crops are

raised for exportation, and bread and meat are purchased, you _doom

them to scarcity and hunger_. It is proposed to hem in the blacks

where they are ILL FED.

_Slavery as It Is_, p. 28.

This is a simple recognition of the state of things we have adverted to.

To the same purport, Mr. Asa A. Stone, a theological student, who

resided near Natchez, Miss., in 1834–5, says:

On almost every plantation, the hands suffer more or less from

hunger at some seasons of almost every year. There is always a _good

deal of suffering_ from hunger. On many plantations, and

particularly in Louisiana, the slaves are in a condition of _almost

utter famishment_, during a great portion of the year.—_Ibid._

Mr. Tobias Baudinot, St. Albans, Ohio, a member of the Methodist Church,

who for some years was a navigator on the Mississippi, says:

The slaves down the Mississippi are _half-starved_. The boats, when

they stop at night, are constantly boarded by slaves, begging for

something to eat.

_Ibid._

On the whole, while it is freely and cheerfully admitted that many

individuals have made most commendable advances in regard to the

provision for the physical comfort of the slave, still it is to be

feared that the picture of the accommodations on Legree’s plantation has

as yet too many counterparts. Lest, however, the author should be

suspected of keeping back anything which might serve to throw light on

the subject, she will insert in full the following incidents on the

other side, from the pen of the accomplished Professor Ingraham. How far

these may be regarded as exceptional cases, or as pictures of the

general mode of providing for slaves, may safely be left to the good

sense of the reader. The professor’s anecdotes are as follows:

“What can you do with so much tobacco?” said a gentleman,—who

related the circumstance to me,—on hearing a planter, whom he was

visiting, give an order to his teamster to bring two hogsheads of

tobacco out to the estate from the “Landing.”

“I purchase it for my negroes; it is a harmless indulgence, which it

gives me pleasure to afford them.”

“Why are you at the trouble and expense of having high-post

bedsteads for your negroes?” said a gentleman from the North, while

walking through the handsome “quarters,” or village, for the slaves,

then in progress on a plantation near Natchez—addressing the

proprietor.

“To suspend their ‘bars’ from, that they may not be troubled with

mosquitos.”

“Master, me would like, if you please, a little bit gallery front my

house.”

“For what, Peter?”

“‘Cause, master, the sun too hot [an odd reason for a negro to give]

that side, and when he rain we no able to keep de door open.”

“Well, well, when a carpenter gets a little leisure, you shall have

one.”

A few weeks after, I was at the plantation, and riding past the

quarters one Sabbath morning, beheld Peter, his wife and children,

with his old father, all sunning themselves in the new gallery.

“Missus, you promise me a Chrismus gif’.”

“Well, Jane, there is a new calico frock for you.”

“It werry pretty, Missus,” said Jane, eying it at a distance without

touching it, “but me prefer muslin, if you please: muslin de fashion

dis Chrismus.”

“Very well, Jane, call to-morrow, and you shall have a muslin.”

The writer would not think of controverting the truth of these

anecdotes. Any probable amount of high-post bedsteads and mosquito

“bars,” of tobacco distributed as gratuity, and verandas constructed by

leisurely carpenters for the sunning of fastidious negroes, may be

conceded, and they do in no whit impair the truth of the other facts.

When the reader remembers that the “gang” of some opulent owners amounts

to from five to seven hundred working hands, besides children, he can

judge how extensively these accommodations are likely to be provided.

Let them be safely thrown into the account, for what they are worth.

At all events, it is pleasing to end off so disagreeable a chapter with

some more agreeable images.

CHAPTER XI.

SELECT INCIDENTS OF LAWFUL TRADE.

In this chapter of _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_ were recorded some of the most

highly-wrought and touching incidents of the slave-trade. It will be

well to authenticate a few of them.

One of the first sketches presented to view is an account of the

separation of a very old, decrepit negro woman from her young son, by a

sheriff’s sale. The writer is sorry to say that not the slightest credit

for invention is due to her in this incident. She found it, almost

exactly as it stands, in the published journal of a young Southerner,

related as a scene to which he was eye-witness. The only circumstance

which she has omitted in the narrative was one of additional inhumanity

and painfulness which he had delineated. He represents the boy as being

bought by a planter, who fettered his hands, and tied a rope round his

neck which he attached to the neck of his horse, thus compelling the

child to trot by his side. This incident alone was suppressed by the

author.

Another scene of fraud and cruelty, in the same chapter, is described as

perpetrated by a Kentucky slave-master, who sells a woman to a trader,

and induces her to go with him by the deceitful assertion that she is to

be taken down the river a short distance, to work at the same hotel with

her husband. This was an instance which occurred under the writer’s own

observation, some years since, when she was going down the Ohio river.

The woman was very respectable both in appearance and dress. The writer

recalls her image now with distinctness, attired with great neatness in

a white wrapper, her clothing and hair all arranged with evident care,

and having with her a prettily-dressed boy about seven years of age. She

had also a hair trunk of clothing, which showed that she had been

carefully and respectably brought up. It will be seen, in perusing the

account, that the incident is somewhat altered to suit the purpose of

the story, the woman being there represented as carrying with her a

young infant.

The custom of unceremoniously separating the infant from its mother,

when the latter is about to be taken from a Northern to a Southern

market, is a matter of every-day notoriety in the trade. It is not done

occasionally and sometimes, but always, whenever there is occasion for

it; and the mother’s agonies are no more regarded than those of a cow

when her calf is separated from her.

The reason of this is, that the care and raising of children is no part

of the intention or provision of a Southern plantation. They are a

trouble; they detract from the value of the mother as a field-hand, and

it is more expensive to raise them than to buy them ready raised; they

are therefore left behind in the making up of a coffle. Not longer ago

than last summer, the writer was conversing with Thomas Strother, a

slave minister of the gospel in St. Louis, for whose emancipation she

was making some effort. He incidentally mentioned to her a scene which

he had witnessed but a short time before, in which a young woman of his

acquaintance came to him almost in a state of distraction, telling him

that she had been sold to go South with a trader, and leave behind her a

nursing infant.

In Lewis Clark’s narrative he mentions that a master in his neighborhood

sold a woman and child to a trader, with the charge that he should not

sell the child from its mother. The man, however, traded off the child

in the very next town, in payment of his tavern-bill.

The following testimony is from a gentleman who writes from New Orleans

to the _National Era_.

This writer says:

While at Robinson, or Tyree Springs, twenty miles from Nashville, on

the borders of Kentucky and Tennessee, my hostess said to me, one

day, “Yonder comes a gang of slaves, chained.” I went to the

road-side and viewed them. For the better answering my purpose of

observation, I stopped the white man in front, who was at his ease

in a one-horse wagon, and asked him if those slaves were for sale. I

counted them and observed their position. They were divided by three

one-horse wagons, each containing a man-merchant, so arranged as to

command the whole gang. Some were unchained; sixty were chained in

two companies, thirty in each, the right hand of one to the left

hand of the other opposite one, making fifteen each side of a large

ox-chain, to which every hand was fastened, and necessarily

compelled to hold up,—men and women promiscuously, and about in

equal proportions,—all young people. No children here, except a few

in a wagon behind, which were the only children in the four gangs. I

said to a respectable mulatto woman in the house, “Is it true that

the negro-traders take mothers from their babies?” “Massa, it is

true; for here, last week, such a girl [naming her], who lives about

a mile off, was taken after dinner,—knew nothing of it in the

morning,—sold, put into the gang, and her baby given away to a

neighbor. She was a stout young woman, and brought a good price.”

Nor is the pitiful lie to be regarded which says that these unhappy

mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, do not feel when the most

sacred ties are thus severed. Every day and hour bears living witness of

the falsehood of this slander, the more false because spoken of a race

peculiarly affectionate, and strong, vivacious and vehement, in the

expression of their feelings.

The case which the writer supposed of the woman’s throwing herself

overboard is not by any means a singular one. Witness the following

recent fact, which appeared under the head of

ANOTHER INCIDENT FOR “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.”

The editorial correspondent of the _Oneida_ (N. Y.) _Telegraph_,

writing from a steamer on the Mississippi river, gives the following

sad story:

“At Louisville, a gentleman took passage, having with him a family

of blacks,—husband, wife and children. The master was bound for

Memphis, Tenn., at which place he intended to take all except the

man ashore. The latter was handcuffed, and although his master said

nothing of his intention, the negro made up his mind, from

appearances, as well as from the remarks of those around him, that

he was destined for the _Southern market_. We reached Memphis during

the night, and whilst within sight of the town, just before landing,

the negro caused his wife to divide their things, as though resigned

to the intended separation, and then, taking a moment when his

master’s back was turned, ran forward and jumped into the river. Of

course he sank, and his master was several hundred dollars poorer

than a moment before. That was all; at least, scarcely any one

mentioned it the next morning. I was obliged to get my information

from the deck hands, and did not hear a remark concerning it in the

cabin. In justice to the master, I should say, that after the

occurrence he disclaimed any intention to separate them.

Appearances, however, are quite against him, if I have been rightly

informed. This sad affair needs no comment. It is an argument,

however, that I might have used to-day, with some effect, whilst

talking with a highly-intelligent Southerner of the evils of

slavery. He had been reading _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_, and spoke of it as

a _novel_, which, like other romances, was well calculated to excite

the sympathies, by the recital of heart-touching incidents which

_never had an existence_, except in the imagination of the writer.”

Instances have occurred where mothers, whose children were about to be

sold from them, have, in their desperation, murdered their own

offspring, to save them from this worst kind of orphanage. A case of

this kind has been recently tried in the United States, and was alluded

to, a week or two ago, by Mr. Giddings, in his speech on the floor of

Congress.

An American gentleman from Italy, complaining of the effect of “Uncle

Tom’s Cabin” on the Italian mind, states that images of fathers dragged

from their families to be sold into slavery, and of babes torn from the

breasts of weeping mothers, are constantly presented before the minds of

the people as scenes of every-day life in America. The author can only

say, sorrowfully, that it is _only the truth_ which is thus presented.

These things _are_, every day, part and parcel of one of _the most

thriving trades that is carried on in America_. The only difference

between us and foreign nations is, that we have got used to it, and they

have not. The thing has been done, and done again, day after day, and

year after year, reported and lamented over in every variety of way; but

it is _going on this day_ with more briskness than ever before, and such

scenes as we have described are enacted oftener, as the author will

prove when she comes to the chapter on the internal slave-trade.

The incident in this same chapter which describes the scene where the

wife of the unfortunate article, catalogued as “John aged 30,” rushed on

board the boat and threw her arms around him, with moans and

lamentations, was a real incident. The gentleman who related it was so

stirred in his spirit at the sight, that he addressed the trader in the

exact words which the writer represents the young minister as having

used in her narrative.

My friend, how can you, how dare you, carry on a trade like this?

Look at those poor creatures! Here I am, rejoicing in my heart that

I am going home to my wife and child; and the same bell which is the

signal to carry me onward towards them will part this poor man and

his wife forever. Depend upon it, God will bring you into judgment

for this.

If that gentleman has read the work,—as perhaps he has before now,—he

has probably recognized his own words. One affecting incident in the

narrative, as it really occurred, ought to be mentioned. The wife was

passionately bemoaning her husband’s fate, as about to be forever

separated from all that he held dear, to be sold to the hard usage of a

Southern plantation. The husband, in reply, used that very simple but

sublime expression which the writer has placed in the mouth of Uncle

Tom, in similar circumstances: “_There’ll be the same God there that

there is here._”

One other incident mentioned in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” may, perhaps, be as

well verified in this place as in any other.

The case of old Prue was related by a brother and sister of the writer,

as follows: She was the woman who supplied _rusks_ and other articles of

the kind at the house where they boarded. Her manners, appearance and

character, were just as described. One day another servant came in her

place, bringing the rusks. The sister of the writer inquired what had

become of _Prue_. She seemed reluctant to answer for some time, but at

last said that they had taken her into the cellar and beaten her, and

that the flies had got at her, and she was dead!

It is well known that there are no _cellars_, properly so called, in New

Orleans, the nature of the ground being such as to forbid digging. The

slave who used the word had probably been imported from some state where

cellars were in use, and applied the term to the place which was used

for the ordinary purposes of a cellar. A cook who lived in the writer’s

family, having lived most of her life on a plantation, always applied

the descriptive terms of the plantation to the very limited enclosures

and retinue of a very plain house and yard.

This same lady, while living in the same place, used frequently to have

her compassion excited by hearing the wailings of a sickly baby in a

house adjoining their own, as also the objurgations and tyrannical abuse

of a ferocious virago upon its mother. She once got an opportunity to

speak to its mother, who appeared heart-broken and dejected, and

inquired what was the matter with her child. Her answer was that she had

had a fever, and that her milk was all dried away; and that her mistress

was set against her child, and would not buy milk for it. She had tried

to feed it on her own coarse food, but it pined and cried continually;

and in witness of this she brought the baby to her. It was emaciated to

a skeleton. The lady took the little thing to a friend of hers in the

house who had been recently confined, and who was suffering from a

redundancy of milk, and begged her to nurse it. The miserable sight of

the little, famished, wasted thing affected the mother so as to overcome

all other considerations, and she placed it to her breast, when it

revived, and took food with an eagerness which showed how much it had

suffered. But the child was so reduced that this proved only a transient

alleviation. It was after this almost impossible to get sight of the

woman, and the violent temper of her mistress was such as to make it

difficult to interfere in the case. The lady secretly afforded what aid

she could, though, as she confessed, with a sort of misgiving that it

was a cruelty to try to hold back the poor little sufferer from the

refuge of the grave; and it was a relief to her when at last its

wailings ceased, and it went where the weary are at rest. This is one of

those cases which go to show that the _interest_ of the owner will not

always insure kind treatment of the slave.

There is one other incident, which the writer interwove into the history

of the mulatto woman who was bought by Legree for his plantation. The

reader will remember that, in telling her story to Emmeline, she says:

“My Mas’r was Mr. Ellis,—lived on Levee-street. P’raps you’ve seen

the house.”

“Was he good to you?” said Emmeline.

“Mostly, till he tuk sick. He’s lain sick, off and on, more than six

months, and been orful oneasy. ‘Pears like he warn’t willin’ to have

nobody rest, day nor night; and got so cur’ous, there couldn’t

nobody suit him. ‘Pears like he just grew crosser every day; kep me

up nights till I got fairly beat out, and couldn’t keep awake no

longer; and ‘cause I got to sleep one night, Lors! he talk so orful

to me, and he tell me he’d sell me to just the hardest master he

could find; and he’d promised me my freedom, too, when he died.”

An incident of this sort came under the author’s observation in the

following manner: A quadroon slave family, liberated by the will of the

master, settled on Walnut Hills, near her residence, and their children

were received into her family school, taught in her house. In this

family was a little quadroon boy, four or five years of age, with a sad,

dejected appearance, who excited their interest.

The history of this child, as narrated by his friends, was simply this:

His mother had been the indefatigable nurse of her master, during a

lingering and painful sickness, which at last terminated his life. She

had borne all the fatigue of the nursing, both by night and by day,

sustained in it by his promise that she should be rewarded for it by her

liberty, at his death. Overcome by exhaustion and fatigue, she one night

fell asleep, and he was unable to rouse her. The next day, after

violently upbraiding her, he altered the directions of his will, and

sold her to a man who was noted in all the region round as a cruel

master, which sale, immediately on his death, which was shortly after,

took effect. The only mitigation of her sentence was that her child was

not to be taken with her into this dreaded lot, but was given to this

quadroon family to be brought into a free state.

The writer very well remembers hearing this story narrated among a group

of liberated negroes, and their comments on it. A peculiar form of grave

and solemn irony often characterizes the communications of this class of

people. It is a habit engendered in slavery to comment upon proceedings

of this kind in language apparently respectful to the perpetrators, and

which is felt to be irony only by a certain peculiarity of manner,

difficult to describe. After the relation of this story, when the writer

expressed her indignation in no measured terms, one of the oldest of the

sable circle remarked, gravely,

“The man was a mighty great Christian, anyhow.”

The writer warmly expressed her dissent from this view, when another of

the same circle added,

“Went to glory, anyhow.”

And another continued,

“Had the greatest kind of a time when he was a-dyin’; said he was goin’

straight into heaven.”

And when the writer remarked that many people thought so who never got

there, a singular smile of grim approval passed round the circle, but no

further comments were made. This incident has often recurred to the

writer’s mind, as showing the danger to the welfare of the master’s soul

from the possession of absolute power. A man of justice and humanity

when in health, is often tempted to become unjust, exacting and

exorbitant, in sickness. If, in these circumstances, he is surrounded by

inferiors, from whom law and public opinion have taken away the rights

of common humanity, how is he tempted to the exercise of the most

despotic passions, and, like this unfortunate man, to leave the world

with the weight of these awful words upon his head: “If ye forgive not

men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

CHAPTER XII.

TOPSY.

Topsy stands as the representative of a large class of the children who

are growing up under the institution of slavery,—quick, active, subtle

and ingenious, apparently utterly devoid of principle and conscience,

keenly penetrating, by an instinct which exists in the childish mind,

the degradation of their condition, and the utter hopelessness of rising

above it; feeling the black skin on them, like the mark of Cain, to be a

sign of reprobation and infamy, and urged on by a kind of secret

desperation to make their “calling and election” in sin “sure.”

Christian people have often been perfectly astonished and discouraged,

as Miss Ophelia was, in the attempt to bring up such children decently

and Christianly, under a state of things which takes away every

stimulant which God meant should operate healthfully on the human mind.

We are not now speaking of the Southern States merely, but of the New

England States; for, startling as it may appear, _slavery is not yet

wholly abolished in the free states of the North_. The most unchristian

part of it, that which gives to it all the bitterness and all the sting,

is yet, in a great measure, unrepealed; it is the practical denial to

the negro of the rights of human brotherhood. In consequence of this,

Topsy is a character which may be found at the North as well as at the

South.

In conducting the education of negro, mulatto and quadroon children, the

writer has often observed this fact:—that, for a certain time, and up to

a certain age, they kept equal pace with, and were often superior to,

the white children with whom they were associated; but that there came a

time when they became indifferent to learning, and made no further

progress. This was invariably at the age when they were old enough to

reflect upon life, and to perceive that society had no place to offer

them for which anything more would be requisite than the rudest and most

elementary knowledge.

Let us consider how it is with our own children; how few of them would

ever acquire an education from the mere love of learning.

In the process necessary to acquire a handsome style of hand-writing, to

master the intricacies of any language, or to conquer the difficulties

of mathematical study, how often does the perseverance of the child

flag, and need to be stimulated by his parents and teachers by such

considerations as these: “It will be necessary for you, in such or such

a position in life, to possess this or that acquirement or

accomplishment. How could you ever become a merchant, without

understanding accounts? How could you enter the learned professions,

without understanding languages? If you are ignorant and uninformed, you

cannot take rank as a gentleman in society.”

Does not every one know that, without the stimulus which teachers and

parents thus continually present, multitudes of children would never

gain a tolerable education? And is it not the absence of all such

stimulus which has prevented the negro child from an equal advance?

It is often objected to the negro race that they are frivolous and vain,

passionately fond of show, and are interested only in trifles. And who

is to blame for all this? Take away all high aims, all noble ambition,

from any class, and what is left for them to be interested in _but_

trifles?

The present attorney-general of Liberia, Mr. Lewis, is a man who

commands the highest respect, for talent and ability in his position;

yet, while he was in America, it is said that, like many other young

colored men, he was distinguished only for foppery and frivolity. What

made the change in Lewis after he went to Liberia? Who does not see the

answer? Does any one wish to know what is inscribed on the seal which

keeps the great stone over the sepulchre of African mind? It is

this;—which was so truly said by poor Topsy,—“NOTHING BUT A NIGGER!”

It is this, burnt into the soul by the branding-iron of cruel and

unchristian scorn, that is a sorer and deeper wound than all the

physical evils of slavery together.

There never was a slave who did not feel it. Deep, deep down in the

dark, still waters of his soul is the conviction, heavier, bitterer than

all others, that he is _not regarded as a man_. On this point may be

introduced the testimony of one who has known the wormwood and the gall

of slavery by bitter experience. The following letter has been received

from Dr. Pennington, in relation to some inquiries of the author:

{ _50 Laurens-street,_

{ _New York, Nov. 30, 1852._

MRS H. B. STOWE.

ESTEEMED MADAM: I have duly received your kind letter in answer to

mine of the 15th instant, in which you state that you “have an

intense curiosity to know how far you have rightly divined the heart

of the slave.” You give me your idea in these words: “There lies

buried down in the heart of the most seemingly careless and stupid

slave a _bleeding spot_, that bleeds and aches, though he could

scarcely tell why; and that this sore spot is the _degradation_ of

his position.”

After escaping from the plantation of Dr. Tilghman, in Washington

County, Md., where I was held as a slave, and worked as a

blacksmith, I came to the State of Pennsylvania, and, after

experiencing there some of the vicissitudes referred to in my little

published narrative, I came into New York State, bringing in my mind

a certain indescribable feeling of wretchedness. They used to say of

me at Dr. Tilghman’s, “That blacksmith Jemmy is a ‘cute fellow;

still water runs deep.” But I confess that “blacksmith Jemmy” was

not ‘cute enough to understand the cause of his own wretchedness.

The current of the still water may have run deep, but it did not

reach down to that awful bed of lava.

At times I thought it occasioned by the lurking fear of betrayal.

There was no Vigilance Committee at the time,—there were but

anti-slavery men. I came North with my counsels in my own cautious

breast. I married a wife, and did not tell her I was a fugitive.

None of my friends knew it. I knew not the means of safety, and

hence I was constantly in fear of meeting with some one who would

betray me.

It was fully two years before I could hold up my head; but still

that feeling was in my mind. In 1846, after opening my bosom as a

fugitive to John Hooker, Esq., I felt this much relief,—“Thank God

there is one brother-man in hard old Connecticut that knows my

troubles.”

Soon after this, when I sailed to the island of Jamaica, and on

landing there saw colored men in all the stations of civil, social,

commercial life, where I had seen white men in this country, that

feeling of wretchedness experienced a sensible relief, as if some

feverish sore had been just reached by just the right kind of balm.

There was before my eye evidence that a colored man is more than “a

nigger.” I went into the House of Assembly at Spanishtown, where

fifteen out of forty-five members were colored men. I went into the

courts, where I saw in the jury-box colored and white men together,

colored and white lawyers at the bar. I went into the Common Council

of Kingston; there I found men of different colors. So in all the

counting-rooms, &c. &c.

But still there was this drawback. Somebody says, “This is nothing

but a nigger island.” Now, then, my old trouble came back again; “a

nigger among niggers is but a nigger still.”

In 1849, when I undertook my second visit to Great Britain, I

resolved to prolong and extend my travel and intercourse with the

best class of men, with a view to see if I could banish that

troublesome old ghost entirely out of my mind. In England, Scotland,

Wales, France, Germany, Belgium and Prussia, my whole power has been

concentrated on this object. “I’ll be a man, and I’ll kill off this

enemy which has haunted me these twenty years and more.” I believe I

have succeeded in some good degree; at least, I have now no more

trouble on the score of equal manhood with the whites. My European

tour was certainly useful, because there the trial was fair and

honorable. I had nothing to complain of. I got what was due to man,

and I was expected to do what was due from man to man. I sought not

to be treated as a pet. I put myself into the harness, and wrought

manfully in the first pulpits, and the platforms in peace

congresses, conventions, anniversaries, commencements, &c.; and in

these exercises that rusty old iron came out of my soul, and went

“clean away.”

You say again you have never seen a slave how ever careless and

merry-hearted, who had not this sore place, and that did not shrink

or get angry if a finger was laid on it. I see that you have been a

close observer of negro nature.

So far as I understand your idea, I think you are perfectly correct

in the impression you have received, as explained in your note.

O, Mrs. Stowe, slavery is an awful system! It takes man as God made

him; it demolishes him, and then mis-creates him, or perhaps I

should say mal-creates him!

Wishing you good health and good success in your arduous work,

I am yours, respectfully,

J. W. C. PENNINGTON.

People of intelligence, who have had the care of slaves, have often made

this remark to the writer: “They are a singular whimsical people; you

can do a great deal more with them by humoring some of their prejudices,

than by bestowing on them the most substantial favors.” On inquiring

what these prejudices were, the reply would be, “They like to have their

weddings elegantly celebrated, and to have a good deal of notice taken

of their funerals, and to give and go to parties dressed and appearing

like white people; and they will often put up with material

inconveniences, and suffer themselves to be worked very hard, if they

are humored in these respects.”

Can any one think of this without compassion? Poor souls! willing to

bear with so much for simply this slight acknowledgment of their common

humanity. To honor their weddings and funerals is, in some sort,

acknowledging that they are human, and therefore they prize it. Hence we

see the reason of the passionate attachment which often exists in a

faithful slave to a good master. It is, in fact, a transfer of his

identity to his master. A stern law and an unchristian public sentiment

has taken away his birthright of humanity, erased his name from the

catalogue of men, and made him an anomalous creature—neither man nor

brute. When a kind master recognizes his humanity, and treats him as a

humble companion and a friend, there is no end to the devotion and

gratitude which he thus excites. He is to the slave a deliverer and a

saviour from the curse which lies on his hapless race. Deprived of all

legal rights and privileges, all opportunity or hope of personal

advancement or honor, he transfers, as it were, his whole existence into

his master’s, and appropriates his rights, his position, his honor, as

his own; and thus enjoys a kind of reflected sense of what it might be

to be a man himself. Hence it is that the appeal to the more generous

part of the negro character is seldom made in vain.

An acquaintance of the writer was married to a gentleman in Louisiana,

who was the proprietor of some eight hundred slaves. He, of course, had

a large train of servants in his domestic establishment. When about to

enter upon her duties, she was warned that the servants were all so

thievish that she would be under the necessity, in common with all other

housekeepers, of keeping everything under lock and key. She, however,

announced her intention of training her servants in such a manner as to

make this unnecessary. Her ideas were ridiculed as chimerical, but she

resolved to carry them into practice. The course she pursued was as

follows: She called all the family servants together; told them that it

would be a great burden and restraint upon her to be obliged to keep

everything locked from them; that she had heard that they were not at

all to be trusted, but that she could not help hoping that they were

much better than they had been represented. She told them that she

should provide abundantly for all their wants, and then that she should

leave her stores unlocked, and trust to their honor.

The idea that they were supposed capable of having any honor struck a

new chord at once in every heart. The servants appeared most grateful

for the trust, and there was much public spirit excited, the older and

graver ones exerting themselves to watch over the children, that nothing

might be done to destroy this new-found treasure of honor.

At last, however, the lady discovered that some depredations had been

made on her cake by some of the juvenile part of the establishment; she,

therefore, convened all the servants and stated the fact to them. She

remarked that it was not on account of the value of the cake that she

felt annoyed, but that they must be sensible that it would not be

pleasant for her to have it indiscriminately fingered and handled, and

that, therefore, she should set some cake out upon a table, or some

convenient place, and beg that all those who were disposed to take it

would go there and help themselves, and allow the rest to remain

undisturbed in the closet. She states that the cake stood upon the table

and dried, without a morsel of it being touched, and that she never

afterwards had any trouble in this respect.

A little time after, a new carriage was bought, and one night the

leather boot of it was found to be missing. Before her husband had time

to take any steps on the subject, the servants of the family called a

convention among themselves, and instituted an inquiry into the offence.

The boot was found and promptly restored, though they would not reveal

to their master and mistress the name of the offender.

One other anecdote which this lady related illustrates that peculiar

devotion of a slave to a good master, to which allusion has been made.

Her husband met with his death by a sudden and melancholy accident. He

had a personal attendant and confidential servant who had grown up with

him from childhood. This servant was so overwhelmed with grief as to be

almost stupefied. On the day of the funeral a brother of his deceased

master inquired of him if he had performed a certain commission for his

mistress. The servant said that he had forgotten it. Not perceiving his

feelings at the moment, the gentleman replied, “I am surprised that you

should neglect any command of your mistress, when she is in such

affliction.”

This remark was the last drop in the full cup. The poor fellow fell to

the ground entirely insensible, and the family were obliged to spend

nearly two hours employing various means to restore his vitality. The

physician accounted for his situation by saying that there had been such

a rush of all the blood in the body towards the heart, that there was

actual danger of a rupture of that organ,—a literal death by a broken

heart.

Some thoughts may be suggested by Miss Ophelia’s conscientious but

unsuccessful efforts in the education of Topsy.

Society has yet need of a great deal of enlightening as to the means of

restoring the vicious and degraded to virtue.

It has been erroneously supposed that with brutal and degraded natures

only coarse and brutal measures could avail; and yet it has been found,

by those who have most experience, that their success with this class of

society has been just in proportion to the delicacy and kindliness with

which they have treated them.

Lord Shaftsbury, who has won so honorable a fame by his benevolent

interest in the efforts made for the degraded lower classes of his own

land, says, in a recent letter to the author:

You are right about Topsy: our ragged schools will afford you many

instances of poor children, hardened by kicks, insults and neglect,

moved to tears and docility by the first word of kindness. It opens

new feelings, develops, as it were, a new nature, and brings the

wretched outcast into the family of man.

Recent efforts which have been made among unfortunate females in some of

the worst districts of New York show the same thing. What is it that

rankles deepest in the breast of fallen woman, that makes her so

hopeless and irreclaimable? It is that burning consciousness of

degradation which stings worse than cold or hunger, and makes her shrink

from the face of the missionary and the philanthropist. They who have

visited these haunts of despair and wretchedness have learned that they

must touch gently the shattered harp of the human soul, if they would

string it again to divine music; that they must encourage self-respect,

and hope, and sense of character, or the bonds of death can never be

broken.

Let us examine the gospel of Christ, and see on what principles its

appeals are constructed. Of what nature are those motives which have

melted _our_ hearts and renewed _our_ wills? Are they not appeals to the

most generous and noble instincts of our nature? Are we not told of One

fairer than the sons of men,—One reigning in immortal glory, who loved

us so that he could bear pain, and want, and shame, and death itself,

for our sake?

When Christ speaks to the soul, does he crush one of its nobler

faculties? Does he taunt us with our degradation, our selfishness, our

narrowness of view, and feebleness of intellect, compared with his own?

Is it not true that he not only saves us from our sins, but saves us in

a way most considerate, most tender, most regardful of our feelings and

sufferings? Does not the Bible tell us that, in order to fulfil his

office of Redeemer the more perfectly, he took upon him the condition of

humanity, and endured the pains, and wants, and temptations of a mortal

existence, that he might be to us a sympathizing, appreciating friend,

“touched with the feeling of our infirmities,” and cheering us gently on

in the hard path of returning virtue?

O, when shall we, who have received so much of Jesus Christ, learn to

repay it in acts of kindness to our poor brethren? When shall we be

Christ-like, and not man-like, in our efforts to reclaim the fallen and

wandering?

CHAPTER XIII.

THE QUAKERS.

The writer’s sketch of the character of this people has been drawn from

personal observation. There are several settlements of these people in

Ohio, and the manner of living, the tone of sentiment, and the habits of

life, as represented in her book, are not at all exaggerated.

These settlements have always been refuges for the oppressed and

outlawed slave. The character of Rachel Halliday was a real one, but she

has passed away to her reward. Simeon Halliday, calmly risking fine and

imprisonment for his love to God and man, has had in this country many

counterparts among the sect.

The writer had in mind, at the time of writing, the scenes in the trial

of Thomas Garret, of Wilmington, Delaware, for the crime of hiring a

hack to convey a mother and four children from Newcastle jail to

Wilmington, a distance of _five miles_.

The writer has received the facts in this case in a letter from John

Garret himself, from which some extracts will be made:

{ _Wilmington, Delaware,_

{ _1st month 18th, 1853._

MY DEAR FRIEND,

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE: I have this day received a request from

Charles K. Whipple, of Boston, to furnish thee with a statement,

authentic and circumstantial, of the trouble and losses which have

been brought upon myself and others of my friends from the aid we

had rendered to fugitive slaves, in order, if thought of sufficient

importance, to be published in a work thee is now preparing for the

press.

I will now endeavor to give thee a statement of what John Hunn and

myself suffered by aiding a family of slaves, a few years since. I

will give the facts as they occurred, and thee may condense and

publish so much as thee may think useful in thy work, and no more:

“In the 12th month, year 1846, a family, consisting of Samuel

Hawkins, a freeman, his wife Emeline, and six children, who were

afterwards _proved slaves_, stopped at the house of a friend named

John Hunn, near Middletown, in this state, in the evening about

sunset, to procure food and lodging for the night. They were seen by

some of Hunn’s pro-slavery neighbors, who soon came with a

constable, and had them taken before a magistrate. Hunn had left the

slaves in his kitchen when he went to the village of Middletown,

half a mile distant. When the officer came with a warrant for them,

he met Hunn at the kitchen door, and asked for the blacks; Hunn,

with truth, said he did not know where they were. Hunn’s wife,

thinking they would be safer, had sent them up stairs during his

absence, where they were found. Hunn made no resistance, and they

were taken before the magistrate, and from his office direct to

Newcastle jail, where they arrived about one o’clock on 7th day

morning.

The sheriff and his daughter, being kind, humane people, inquired of

Hawkins and wife the facts of their case; and his daughter wrote to

a lady here, to request me to go to Newcastle and inquire into the

case, as her father and self really believed they were most of them,

if not all, entitled to their _freedom_. Next morning I went to

Newcastle: had the family of colored people brought into the parlor,

and the sheriff and myself came to the conclusion that the parents

and four youngest children were by law entitled to their freedom. I

prevailed on the sheriff to show me the commitment of the

magistrate, which I found was defective, and not in due form

according to law. I procured a copy and handed it to a lawyer. He

pronounced the commitment irregular, and agreed to go next morning

to Newcastle and have the whole family taken before Judge Booth,

Chief Justice of the state, by _habeas corpus_, when the following

admission was made by Samuel Hawkins and wife: They admitted that

the two eldest boys were held by one Charles Glaudin, of Queen Anne

County, Maryland, as slaves; that after the birth of these two

children, Elizabeth Turner, also of Queen Anne, the mistress of

their mother, had set her free, and permitted her to go and live

with her husband, near twenty miles from her residence, after which

the four youngest children were born; that her mistress during all

that time, eleven or twelve years, had never contributed one dollar

to their support, or come to see them. After examining the

commitment in their case, and consulting with my attorney, the judge

set the whole family at liberty. The day was wet and cold; one of

the children, three years old, was a cripple from white swelling,

and could not walk a step; another, eleven months old, at the

breast; and the parents being desirous of getting to Wilmington,

five miles distant, I asked the judge if there would be any risk or

impropriety in my hiring a conveyance for the mother and four young

children to Wilmington. His reply, in the presence of the sheriff

and my attorney, was there would not be any. I then requested the

sheriff to procure a hack to take them over to Wilmington.”

The whole family escaped. John Hunn and John Garret were brought up to

trial for having practically fulfilled these words of Christ which read,

“I was a stranger and ye took me in, I was sick and in prison and ye

came unto me.” For John Hunn’s part of this crime, he was fined two

thousand five hundred dollars, and John Garret was fined five thousand

four hundred. Three thousand five hundred of this was the fine for

hiring a hack for them, and one thousand nine hundred was assessed on

him as the value of the slaves! Our European friends will infer from

this that it costs something to obey Christ in America, as well as in

Europe.

After John Garret’s trial was over, and this heavy judgment had been

given against him, he calmly rose in the court-room, and requested leave

to address a few words to the court and audience.

Leave being granted, he spoke as follows:

I have a few words which I wish to address to the court, jury and

prosecutors, in the several suits that have been brought against me

during the sittings of this court, in order to determine the amount

of penalty I must pay for doing what my feelings prompted me to do

as a lawful and meritorious act; a simple act of humanity and

justice, as I believed, to eight of that oppressed race, the people

of color, whom I found in the Newcastle jail, in the 12th month,

1845. I will now endeavor to state the facts of those cases, for

your consideration and reflection after you return home to your

families and friends. You will then have time to ponder on what has

transpired here since the sitting of this court, and I believe that

your verdict will then be unanimous, that the law of the United

States, as explained by our venerable judge, when compared with the

act committed by me, was cruel and oppressive, and needs

remodelling.

Here follows a very brief and clear statement of the facts in the case,

of which the reader is already apprized.

After showing conclusively that he had no reason to suppose the family

to be slaves, and that they had all been discharged by the judge, he

nobly adds the following words:

_Had I believed every one of them to be slaves, I should have done

the same thing._ I should have done violence to my convictions of

duty, had I not made use of all the lawful means in my power to

liberate those people, and assist them to become men and women,

rather than leave them in the condition of chattels personal.

I am called an Abolitionist; once a name of reproach, but one I have

ever been proud to be considered worthy of being called. For the

last twenty-five years I have been engaged in the cause of this

despised and much-injured race, and consider their cause worth

suffering for; but, owing to a multiplicity of other engagements, I

could not devote so much of my time and mind to their cause as I

otherwise should have done.

The impositions and persecutions practised on those unoffending and

innocent brethren are extreme beyond endurance. I am now placed in a

situation in which I have not so much to claim my attention as

formerly; and I now pledge myself, in the presence of this assembly,

to use all lawful and honorable means to lessen the burdens of this

oppressed people, and endeavor, according to ability furnished, to

burst their chains asunder, and set them free; not relaxing my

efforts on their behalf while blessed with health, and a slave

remains to tread the soil of the state of my adoption,—Delaware.

After mature reflection, I can assure this assembly it is my opinion

at this time that the verdicts you have given the prosecutors

against John Hunn and myself, within the past few days, will have a

tendency to raise a spirit of inquiry throughout the length and

breadth of the land, respecting this monster evil (slavery), in many

minds that have not heretofore investigated the subject. The reports

of those trials will be published by editors from Maine to Texas and

the far West; and what must be the effect produced? It will, no

doubt, add hundreds, perhaps thousands, to the present large and

rapidly increasing army of abolitionists. The injury is great to us

who are the immediate sufferers by your verdict; but I believe the

verdicts you have given against us within the last few days will

have a powerful effect in bringing about the abolition of slavery in

this country, this land of boasted freedom, where not only the slave

is fettered at the South by his lordly master, but the white man at

the North is bound as in chains to do the bidding of his Southern

masters.

In his letter to the writer John Garret adds, that after this speech a

young man who had served as juryman came across the room, and taking him

by the hand, said:

“Old gentleman, I believe every statement that you have made. I came

from home prejudiced against you, and I now acknowledge that I have

helped to do you injustice.”

Thus calmly and simply did this Quaker confess Christ before men,

according as it is written of them of old,—“He esteemed the reproach of

Christ greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt.”

Christ has said, “Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and my words, of him

shall the Son of Man be ashamed.” In our days it is not customary to be

ashamed of Christ personally, but of _his words_ many are ashamed. But

when they meet Him in judgment they will have cause to remember them;

for heaven and earth shall pass away, but His word shall not pass away.

* * * * *

Another case of the same kind is of a more affecting character.

_Richard Dillingham_ was the son of a respectable Quaker family in

Morrow County, Ohio. His pious mother brought him up in the full belief

of the doctrine of St. John, that the love of God and the love of man

are inseparable. He was diligently taught in such theological notions as

are implied in such passages as these: “Hereby perceive we the love of

God, because he laid down his life for us; and we ought also to lay down

our lives for the brethren.—But whoso hath this world’s goods and seeth

his brother have need and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him,

how dwelleth the love of God in him?—My little children, let us not love

in word and in tongue, but in deed and in truth.”

In accordance with these precepts, Richard Dillingham, in early manhood,

was found in Cincinnati teaching the colored people, and visiting in the

prisons and doing what in him lay to “love in deed and in truth.”

Some unfortunate families among the colored people had dear friends who

were slaves in Nashville, Tennessee. Richard was so interested in their

story, that when he went into Tennessee he was actually taken up and

caught in the very fact of helping certain poor people to escape to

their friends.

He was seized and thrown into prison. In the language of this world he

was imprisoned as a “negro-stealer.” His own account is given in the

following letter to his parents:

_Nashville Jail, 12th mo. 15th, 1849._

DEAR PARENTS: I presume you have heard of my arrest and imprisonment

in the Nashville jail, under a charge of aiding in an attempted

escape of slaves from the city of Nashville, on the 5th inst. I was

arrested by M. D. Maddox (district constable), aided by Frederick

Marshal, watchman at the Nashville Inn, and the bridge-keeper, at

the bridge across the Cumberland river. When they arrested me, I had

rode up to the bridge on horseback and paid the toll for myself and

for the hack to pass over, in which three colored persons, who were

said to be slaves, were found by the men who arrested me. The driver

of the hack (who is a free colored man of this city), and the

persons in the hack, were also arrested; and after being taken to

the Nashville Inn and searched, we were all taken to jail. My arrest

took place about eleven o’clock at night.

In another letter he says:

At the bridge, Maddox said to me, “You are just the man we wanted.

We will make an example of you.” As soon as we were safe in the

bar-room of the inn, Maddox took a candle and looked me in the face,

to see if he could recognize my countenance; and looking intently at

me a few moments, he said, “Well, you are too good-looking a young

man to be engaged in such an affair as this.” The bystanders asked

me several questions, to which I replied that under the present

circumstances I would rather be excused from answering any questions

relating to my case; upon which they desisted from further inquiry.

Some threats and malicious wishes were uttered against me by the

ruffian part of the assembly, being about twenty-five persons. I was

put in a cell which had six persons in it, and I can assure thee

that they were very far from being agreeable companions to me,

although they were kind. But thou knows that I do not relish cursing

and swearing, and worst of all loathsome and obscene blasphemy; and

of such was most of the conversation of my prison mates when I was

first put in here. The jailers are kind enough to me, but the jail

is so constructed that it cannot be warmed, and we have to either

warm ourselves by walking in our cell, which is twelve by fifteen

feet, or by lying in bed. I went out to my trial on the 16th of last

month, and put it off till the next term of the court, which will be

commenced on the second of next 4th month. I put it off on the

ground of excitement.

Dear brother, I have no hopes of getting clear of being convicted

and sentenced to the penitentiary; but do not think that I am

without comfort in my afflictions, for I assure thee that I have

many reflections that give me sweet consolation in the midst of my

grief. I have a clear conscience before my God, which is my greatest

comfort and support through all my troubles and afflictions. An

approving conscience none can know but those who enjoy it. It nerves

us in the hour of trial to bear our sufferings with fortitude, and

even with cheerfulness. The greatest affliction I have is the

reflection of the sorrow and anxiety my friends will have to endure

on my account. But I can assure thee, brother, that with the

exception of this reflection, I am far, very far, from being one of

the most miserable of men. Nay, to the contrary, I am not terrified

at the prospect before me, though I am grieved about it; but all

have enough to grieve about in this unfriendly wilderness of sin and

woe. My hopes are not fixed in this world, and therefore I have a

source of consolation that will never fail me, so long as I slight

not the offers of mercy, comfort and peace, which my blessed Saviour

constantly privileges me with.

One source of almost constant annoyance to my feelings is the

profanity and vulgarity, and the bad, disagreeable temper, of two or

three fellow-prisoners of my cell. They show me considerable

kindness and respect; but they cannot do otherwise, when treated

with the civility and kindness with which I treat them. If it be my

fate to go to the penitentiary for eight or ten years, I can, I

believe, meet my doom without shedding a tear. I have not yet shed a

tear, though there may be many in store. My bail-bonds were set at

seven thousand dollars. If I should be bailed out, I should return

to my trial, unless my security were rich, and did not wish me to

return; for _I am Richard yet_, although I am in the prison of my

enemy, and will not flinch from what I believe to be right and

honorable. These are the principles which, in carrying out, have

lodged me here; for there was a time, at my arrest, that I might

have, in all probability, escaped the police, but it would have

subjected those who were arrested with me to punishment, perhaps

even to death, in order to find out who I was, and if they had not

told more than they could have done in truth, they would probably

have been punished without mercy; and I am determined no one shall

suffer for me. I am now a prisoner, but those who were arrested with

me are all at liberty, and I believe without whipping. I now stand

alone before the Commonwealth of Tennessee to answer for the affair.

Tell my friends I am in the midst of consolation here.

Richard was engaged to a young lady of amiable disposition and fine

mental endowments.

To her he thus writes:

O, dearest! Canst thou upbraid me? canst thou call it crime? wouldst

thou call it crime, or couldst thou upbraid me, for rescuing, or

attempting to rescue, _thy_ father, mother, or brother and sister,

or even friends, from a captivity among a cruel race of oppressors?

O, couldst thou only see what I have seen, and hear what I have

heard, of the sad, vexatious, degrading, and soul-trying situation

of as noble minds as ever the Anglo-Saxon race were possessed of,

mourning in vain for that universal heaven-born boon of freedom,

which an all-wise and beneficent Creator has designed for all, thou

couldst not censure, but wouldst deeply sympathize with me! Take all

these things into consideration, and the thousands of poor mortals

who are dragging out far more miserable lives than mine will be,

even at ten years in the penitentiary, and thou wilt not look upon

my fate with so much horror as thou would at first thought.

In another letter he adds:

I have happy hours here, and I should not be miserable if I could

only know you were not sorrowing for me at home. It would give me

more satisfaction to hear that you were not grieving about me than

anything else.

The nearer I live to the principle of the commandment, “Love thy

neighbor as thyself,” the more enjoyment I have of this life. None

can know the enjoyments that flow from feelings of good will towards

our fellow-beings, both friends and enemies, but those who cultivate

them. Even in my prison-cell I may be happy, if I will. For the

Christian’s consolation cannot be shut out from him by enemies or

iron gates.

In another letter to the lady before alluded to he says:

By what I am able to learn, I believe thy “Richard” has not fallen

altogether unlamented; and the satisfaction it gives me is

sufficient to make my prison life more pleasant and desirable than

even a life of liberty without the esteem and respect of my friends.

But it gives bitterness to the cup of my afflictions to think that

my dear friends and relatives have to suffer such grief and sorrow

for me.

* * * * *

Though persecution ever so severe be my lot, yet I will not allow my

indignation ever to ripen into revenge even against my bitterest

enemies; for there will be a time when all things must be revealed

before Him who has said “Vengeance is mine, I will repay.” Yes, my

heart shall ever glow with love for my poor fellow-mortals, who are

hastening rapidly on to their final destination—the awful tomb and

the solemn judgment.

Perhaps it will give thee some consolation for me to tell thee that

I believe there is a considerable sympathy existing in the minds of

some of the better portion of the citizens here, which may be of

some benefit to me. But all that can be done in my behalf will still

leave my case a sad one. Think not, however, that it is all loss to

me, for by my calamity I have learned many good and useful lessons,

which I hope may yet prove both temporal and spiritual blessings to

me.

“Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.”

Therefore I hope thou and my dear distressed parents will be

somewhat comforted about me, for I know you regard my spiritual

welfare far more than anything else.

In his next letter to the same friend he says:

Since I wrote my last, I have had a severe moral conflict, in which

I believe the right conquered, and has completely gained the

ascendency. The matter was this: A man with whom I have become

acquainted since my imprisonment offered to bail me out and let me

stay away from my trial, and pay the bail-bonds for me, and was very

anxious to do it. [Here he mentions that the funds held by this

individual had been placed in his hands by a person who obtained

them by dishonest means.] But having learned the above facts, which

he in confidence made known to me, I declined accepting his offer,

giving him my reasons in full. The matter rests with him, my

attorneys and myself. My attorneys do not know who he is, but, with

his permission, I in confidence informed them of the nature of the

case, after I came to a conclusion upon the subject, and had

determined not to accept the offer; which was approved by them. I

also had an offer of iron saws and files and other tools by which I

could break jail; but I refused them also, as I do not wish to

pursue any such underhanded course to extricate myself from my

present difficulties; for when I leave Tennessee—if I ever do—I am

determined to leave it a free man. Thou need not fear that I shall

ever stoop to dishonorable means to avoid my severe impending fate.

When I meet thee again I want to meet thee with a clear conscience,

and a character unspotted by disgrace.

In another place he says, in view of his nearly approaching trial:

O dear parents! The principles of love for my fellow-beings which

you have instilled into my mind are some of the greatest

consolations I have in my imprisonment, and they give me resignation

to bear whatever may be inflicted upon me without feeling any malice

or bitterness toward my vigilant prosecutors. If they show me mercy,

it will be accepted by me with gratitude; but if they do not, I will

endeavor to bear whatever they may inflict with Christian fortitude

and resignation, and try not to murmur at my lot; but it is hard to

obey the commandment, “Love your enemies.”

The day of his trial at length came.

His youth, his engaging manners, frank address, and invariable

gentleness to all who approached him, had won many friends, and the

trial excited much interest.

His mother and her brother, Asa Williams, went a distance of seven

hundred and fifty miles to attend his trial. They carried with them

a certificate of his character, drawn up by Dr. Brisbane, and

numerously signed by his friends and acquaintances, and officially

countersigned by civil officers. This was done at the suggestion of

his counsel, and exhibited by them in court. When brought to the bar

it is said that “his demeanor was calm, dignified and manly.” His

mother sat by his side. The prosecuting attorney waived his plea,

and left the ground clear for Richard’s counsel. Their defence was

eloquent and pathetic. After they closed, Richard rose, and in a

calm and dignified manner spoke extemporaneously as follows:

“By the kind permission of the Court, for which I am sincerely

thankful, I avail myself of the privilege of adding a few words to

the remarks already made by my counsel. And although I stand, by my

own confession, as a criminal in the eyes of your violated laws, yet

I feel confident that I am addressing those who have hearts to feel;

and in meting out the punishment that I am about to suffer I hope

you will be lenient, for it is a new situation in which I am placed.

Never before, in the whole course of my life, have I been charged

with a dishonest act. And from my childhood kind parents, whose

names I deeply reverence, have instilled into my mind a desire to be

virtuous and honorable; and it has ever been my aim so to conduct

myself as to merit the confidence and esteem of my fellow-men. But,

gentlemen, I have violated your laws. This offence I did commit; and

I now stand before you, to my sorrow and regret, as a criminal. But

I was prompted to it by feelings of humanity. It has been suspected,

as I was informed, that I am leagued with a fraternity who are

combined for the purpose of committing such offences as the one with

which I am charged. But, gentlemen, the impression is false. I alone

am guilty, I alone committed the offence, and I alone must suffer

the penalty. My parents, my friends, my relatives, are as innocent

of any participation in or knowledge of my offence as the babe

unborn. My parents are still living,[2] though advanced in years,

and, in the course of nature, a few more years will terminate their

earthly existence. In their old age and infirmity they will need a

stay and protection; and if you can, consistently with your ideas of

justice, make my term of imprisonment a short one, you will receive

the lasting gratitude of a son who reverences his parents, and the

prayers and blessings of an aged father and mother who love their

child.”

A great deal of sensation now appeared in the court-room, and most

of the jury are said to have wept. They retired for a few moments,

and returned a verdict for three years imprisonment in the

penitentiary.

The _Nashville Daily Gazette_ of April 13, 1849, contains the

following notice:

“THE KIDNAPPING CASE.

“Richard Dillingham, who was arrested on the 5th day of December

last, having in his possession three slaves whom he intended to

convey with him to a free state, was arraigned yesterday and tried

in the Criminal Court. The prisoner confessed his guilt, and made a

short speech in palliation of his offence. He avowed that the act

was undertaken by himself without instigation from any source, and

he alone was responsible for the error into which his education had

led him. He had, he said, no other motive than the good of the

slaves, and did not expect to claim any advantage by freeing them.

He was sentenced to three years imprisonment in the penitentiary,

the least time the law allows for the offence committed. Mr.

Dillingham is a Quaker from Ohio, and has been a teacher in that

state. He belongs to a respectable family, and he is not without the

sympathy of those who attended the trial. It was a foolhardy

enterprise in which he embarked, and dearly has he paid for his

rashness.”

His mother, before leaving Nashville, visited the governor, and had

an interview with him in regard to pardoning her son. He gave her

some encouragement, but thought she had better postpone her petition

for the present. After the lapse of several months, she wrote to him

about it; but he seemed to have changed his mind, as the following

letter will show:

“_Nashville, August 29, 1849._

“DEAR MADAM: Your letter of the 6th of the 7th mo. was received, and

would have been noticed earlier but for my absence from home. Your

solicitude for your son is natural, and it would be gratifying to be

able to reward it by releasing him, if it were in my power. But the

offence for which he is suffering was clearly made out, and its

tendency here is very hurtful to our rights, and our peace as a

people. He is doomed to the shortest period known to our statute.

And, at all events, I could not interfere with his case for some

time to come; and, to be frank with you, I do not see how his time

can be lessened at all. But my term of office will expire soon, and

the governor elect, Gen. William Tronsdale, will take my place. To

him you will make any future appeal.

“Yours, &c. N. L. BROWN.”

The warden of the penitentiary, John McIntosh, was much prejudiced

against him. He thought the sentence was too light, and, being of a

stern bearing, Richard had not much to expect from his kindness. But

the same sterling integrity and ingenuousness which had ever, under

all circumstances, marked his conduct, soon wrought a change in the

minds of his keepers, and of his enemies generally. He became a

favorite with McIntosh, and some of the guard. According to the

rules of the prison, he was not allowed to write oftener than once

in three months, and what he wrote had, of course, to be inspected

by the warden.

He was at first put to sawing and scrubbing rock; but, as the delicacy

of his frame unfitted him for such labors, and the spotless sanctity of

his life won the reverence of his jailers, he was soon promoted to be

steward of the prison hospital. In a letter to a friend he thus

announces this change in his situation:

I suppose thou art, ere this time, informed of the change in my

situation, having been placed in the hospital of the penitentiary as

steward.... I feel but poorly qualified to fill the situation they

have assigned me, but will try to do the best I can.... I enjoy the

comforts of a good fire and a warm room, and am allowed to sit up

evenings and read, which I prize as a great privilege.... I have now

been here nearly nine months, and have twenty-seven more to stay. It

seems to me a long time in prospect. I try to be as patient as I

can, but sometimes I get low-spirited. I throw off the thoughts of

home and friends as much as possible; for, when indulged in, they

only increase my melancholy feelings. And what wounds my feelings

most is the reflection of what you all suffer of grief and anxiety

for me. Cease to grieve for me, for I am unworthy of it; and it only

causes pain for you, without availing aught for me.... As ever,

thine in the bonds of affection,

R. D.

He had been in prison little more than a year when the cholera invaded

Nashville, and broke out among the inmates; Richard was up day and night

in attendance on the sick, his disinterested and sympathetic nature

leading him to labors to which his delicate constitution, impaired by

confinement, was altogether inadequate.

“Beside the bed where parting life was laid,

And sorrow, grief and pain, by turns dismayed,

The youthful champion stood: at his control

Despair and anguish fled the trembling soul,

Comfort came down the dying wretch to raise,

And his last faltering accents whispered praise.”

Worn with these labors, the gentle, patient lover of God and of his

brother, sank at last overwearied, and passed peacefully away to a world

where all are lovely and loving.

Though his correspondence with her he most loved was interrupted, from

his unwillingness to subject his letters to the surveillance of the

warden, yet a note reached her, conveyed through the hands of a prisoner

whose time was out. In this letter, the last which any earthly friend

ever received, he says:

I ofttimes, yea, _all_ times, think of thee;—if I did not, I should

cease to exist.

What must that system be which makes it necessary to imprison with

convicted felons a man like this, because he loves his brother man “not

wisely but too well”?

On his death Whittier wrote the following:

“Si crucem libenter portes, te portabit.”—_Imit. Christ._

“The Cross, if freely borne, shall be

No burthen, but support, to thee.”

So, moved of old time for our sake,

The holy man of Kempen spake.

Thou brave and true one, upon whom

Was laid the Cross of Martyrdom,

How didst thou, in thy faithful youth,

Bear witness to this blessed truth!

Thy cross of suffering and of shame

A staff within thy hands became;—

In paths, where Faith alone could see

The Master’s steps, upholding thee.

Thine was the seed-time: God alone

Beholds the end of what is sown;

Beyond our vision, weak and dim,

The harvest-time is hid with Him.

Yet, unforgotten where it lies,

That seed of generous sacrifice,

Though teeming on the desert cast,

Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last.

J. G. WHITTIER.

_Amesbury, Second. mo. 18th, 1852._

-----

Footnote 2:

R. D.’s father survived him only a few months.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SPIRIT OF ST. CLARE.

The general tone of the press and of the community in the slave states,

so far as it has been made known at the North, has been loudly

condemnatory of the representations of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Still, it

would be unjust to the character of the South to refuse to acknowledge

that she has many sons with candor enough to perceive, and courage

enough to avow, the evils of her “peculiar institutions.” The manly

independence exhibited by these men, in communities where popular

sentiment rules despotically, either by law or in spite of law, should

be duly honored. The sympathy of such minds as these is a high

encouragement to philanthropic effort.

The author inserts a few testimonials from Southern men, not without

some pride in being thus kindly judged by those who might have been

naturally expected to read her book with prejudice against it.

The _Jefferson Inquirer_, published at Jefferson City, Missouri, Oct.

23, 1852, contains the following communication:

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

I have lately read this celebrated book, which, perhaps, has gone

through more editions, and been sold in greater numbers, than any

work from the American press, in the same length of time. It is a

work of high literary finish, and its several characters are drawn

with great power and truthfulness, although, like the characters in

most novels and works of fiction, in some instances too highly

colored. There is no attack on slave-holders as such, but, on the

contrary, many of them are represented as highly noble, generous,

humane and benevolent. Nor is there any attack upon them as a class.

It sets forth many of the evils of slavery, as _an institution

established by law_, but without charging these evils on those who

hold the slaves, and seems fully to appreciate the difficulties in

finding a remedy. Its effect upon the slave-holder is to make him a

kinder and better master; to which none can object. This is said

without any intention to endorse everything contained in the book,

or, indeed, in any novel, or work of fiction. But, if I mistake not,

there are few, excepting those who are greatly prejudiced, that will

rise from a perusal of the book without being a truer and better

Christian, and a more humane and benevolent man. As a slave-holder,

I do not feel the least aggrieved. How Mrs. Stowe, the authoress,

has obtained her extremely accurate knowledge of the negroes, their

character, dialect, habits, &c., is beyond my comprehension, as she

never resided—as appears from the preface—in a slave state, or among

slaves or negroes. But they are certainly admirably delineated. The

book is highly interesting and amusing, and will afford a rich treat

to its reader.

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

The opinion of the editor himself is given in these words:

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

Well, like a good portion of “the world and the rest of mankind,” we

have read the book of Mrs. Stowe bearing the above title.

From numerous statements, newspaper paragraphs and rumors, we

supposed the book was all that fanaticism and heresy could invent,

and were therefore greatly prejudiced against it. But, on reading

it, we cannot refrain from saying that it is a work of more than

ordinary moral worth, and is entitled to consideration. We do not

regard it as “a corruption of moral sentiment,” and a gross “libel

on a portion of our people.” The authoress seems disposed to treat

the subject fairly, though, in some particulars, the scenes are too

highly colored, and too strongly drawn from the imagination. The

book, however, may lead its readers at a distance to misapprehend

some of the general and better features of “Southern life as it is”

(which, by the way, we, as an individual, prefer to Northern life);

yet it is a perfect mirror of several classes of people “we have in

our mind’s eye, who are not free from all the ills flesh is heir

to.” It has been feared that the book would result in injury to the

slave-holding interests of the country; but we apprehend no such

thing, and hesitate not to recommend it to the perusal of our

friends and the public generally.

Mrs. Stowe has exhibited a knowledge of many peculiarities of

Southern society which is really wonderful, when we consider that

she is a Northern lady by birth and residence.

We hope, then, before our friends form any harsh opinions of the

merits of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and make up any judgment against us

for pronouncing in its favor (barring some objections to it), that

they will give it a careful perusal; and, in so speaking, we may say

that we yield to no man in his devotion to Southern rights and

interests.

The editor of the _St. Louis_ (Missouri) _Battery_ pronounces the

following judgment:

We took up this work, a few evenings since, with just such

prejudices against it as we presume many others have commenced

reading it. We have been so much in contact with ultra

abolitionists,—have had so much evidence that their benevolence was

much more hatred for the master than love for the slave, accompanied

with a profound ignorance of the circumstances surrounding both, and

a most consummate, supreme disgust for the whole negro race,—that we

had about concluded that anything but rant and nonsense was out of

the question from a Northern writer upon the subject of slavery.

Mrs. Stowe, in these delineations of life among the lowly, has

convinced us to the contrary.

She brings to the discussion of her subject a perfectly cool,

calculating judgment, a wide, all-comprehending intellectual vision,

and a deep, warm, sea-like woman’s soul, over all of which is flung

a perfect iris-like imagination, which makes the light of her

pictures stronger and more beautiful, as their shades are darker and

terror-striking.

We do not wonder that the copy before us is of the seventieth

thousand. And seventy thousand more will not supply the demand, or

we mistake the appreciation of the American people of the real

merits of literary productions. Mrs. Stowe has, in “Uncle Tom’s

Cabin,” set up for herself a monument more enduring than marble. It

will stand amid the wastes of slavery as the Memnon stands amid the

sands of the African desert, telling both the white man and the

negro of the approach of morning. The book is not an abolitionist

work, in the offensive sense of the word. It is, as we have

intimated, free from everything like fanaticism, no matter what

amount of enthusiasm vivifies every page, and runs like electricity

along every thread of the story. It presents at one view the

excellences and the evils of the system of slavery, and breathes the

true spirit of Christian benevolence for the slave, and charity for

the master.

The next witness gives his testimony in a letter to the _New York

Evening Post_:

LIGHT IN THE SOUTH.

The subjoined communication comes to us postmarked New Orleans, June

19, 1852:

“I have just been reading ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or, Scenes in Lowly

Life,’ by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. It found its way to me through

the channel of a young student, who purchased it at the North, to

read on his homeward passage to New Orleans. He was entirely

unacquainted with its character; he was attracted by its title,

supposing it might amuse him while travelling. Through his family it

was shown to me, as something that I would probably like. I looked

at the author’s name, and said, ‘O, yes; anything from that lady I

will read;’ otherwise I should have disregarded a work of fiction

without such a title.

“The remarks from persons present were, that it was a most amusing

work, and the scenes most admirably drawn to life. I accepted the

offer of a perusal of it, and brought it home with me. Although I

have not read every sentence, I have looked over the whole of it,

and I now wish to bear my testimony to its just delineation of the

position that the slave occupies. Colorings in the work there are,

but no colorings of the actual and real position of the slave worse

than really exist. Whippings to death do occur; I know it to be so.

Painful separations of master and slave, under circumstances

creditable to the master’s feelings of humanity, do also occur. I

know that, too. Many families, after having brought up their

children in entire dependence on slaves to do everything for them,

and after having been indulged in elegances and luxuries, have

exhausted all their means; and the black people only being left,

whom they must sell, for further support. Running away, everybody

knows, is the worst crime a slave can commit, in the eyes of his

master, except it be a humane master; and from such few slaves care

to run away.

“I am a slave-holder myself. I have long been dissatisfied with the

system; particularly since I have made the Bible my criterion for

judging of it. I am convinced, from what I read there, slavery is

not in accordance with what God delights to honor in his creatures.

I am altogether opposed to the system; and I intend always to use

whatever influence I may have against it. I feel very bold in

speaking against it, though living in the midst of it, because I am

backed by a powerful arm, that can overturn and overrule the

strongest efforts that the determined friends of slavery are now

making for its continuance.

“I sincerely hope that more of Mrs. Stowes may be found, to show up

the reality of slavery. It needs master minds to show it as it is,

that it may rest upon its own merits.

“Like Mrs. Stowe, I feel that, since so many and good people, too,

at the North, have quietly consented to leave the slave to his fate,

by acquiescing in and approving the late measures of government,

those who do feel differently should bestir themselves. Christian

effort must do the work; and soon it would be done, if Christians

would unite, not to destroy the Union states, but honestly to speak

out, and speak freely, against that they know is wrong. They are not

aware what countenance they give to slave-holders to hold on to

their prey. Troubled consciences can be easily quieted by the

sympathies of pious people, particularly when interest and

inclination come in as aids.

“I am told there is to be a reply made to ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’

entitled ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin as It Is.’ I am glad of it.

Investigation is what is wanted.

“You will wonder why this communication is made to you by an

unknown. It is simply made to encourage your heart, and strengthen

your determination to persevere, and do all you can to put the

emancipation of the slave in progress. Who I am you will never know;

nor do I wish you to know, nor any one else. I am a

“REPUBLICAN.”

The following facts make the fiction of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” appear tame

in the comparison. They are from the _New York Evangelist_.

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

MR. EDITOR: I see in your paper that some persons deny the

statements of Mrs. Stowe. I have read her book, _every word of it_.

I was born in East Tennessee, near Knoxville, and, _we thought_, in

an enlightened part of the Union, much favored in our social,

political and religious privileges, &c. &c. Well, I think about the

year 1829, or, perhaps, ‘28, a good old German Methodist owned a

black man named Robin, a Methodist preacher, and the manager of

farm, distillery, &c., salesman and financier. This good old German

Methodist had a son named Willey, a schoolmate of mine, and, as

times were, a first-rate fellow. The old man also owned a keen,

bright-eyed mulatto girl; and Willey—the naughty boy!—became

enamored of the poor girl. The result was soon discovered; and our

good German Methodist told his brother Robin to flog the girl for

her wickedness. Brother Robin said he could not and would not

perform such an act of cruelty as to flog the girl for what she

could not help; and for that act of disobedience old Robin was

flogged by the good old German brother, until he could not stand. He

was carried to bed; and, some three weeks thereafter, when my father

left the state, he was still confined to his bed from the effects of

that flogging.

Again: in the fall of 1836 I went South, for my health, stopped at a

village in Mississippi, and obtained employment in the largest house

in the county, as a book-keeper, with a firm from Louisville, Ky. A

man residing near the village—a bachelor, thirty years of age—became

embarrassed, and executed a mortgage to my employer on a fine,

likely boy, weighing about two hundred pounds,—quick-witted, active,

obedient, and remarkably faithful, trusty and honest; so much so,

that he was held up as an example. He had a wife that he loved. His

owner cast his eyes upon her, and she became his paramour. His boy

remonstrated with his master; told him that he tried faithfully to

perform his every duly; that he was a good and faithful “nigger” to

him; and it was hard, after he had toiled hard all day, and till ten

o’clock at night, for him to have his domestic relations broken up

and interfered with. The white man denied the charge, and the wife

also denied it. One night, about the first of September, the boy

came home earlier than usual, say about nine o’clock. It was a wet,

dismal night; he made a fire in his cabin, went to get his supper,

and found ocular demonstration of the guilt of his master. He became

enraged, as I suppose any man would, seized a butcher-knife, and cut

his master’s throat, stabbed his wife in twenty-seven places, came

to the village, and knocked at the office-door. I told him to come

in. He did so, and asked for my employer. I called him. The boy then

told him that he had killed his master and his wife, and what for.

My employer locked him up, and he, a doctor and myself, went out to

the house of the old bachelor, and found him dead, and the boy’s

wife nearly so. She, however, lived. We (my employer and myself)

returned to the village, watched the boy until about sunrise, left

him locked up, and went to get our breakfasts, intending to take the

boy to jail (as it was my employer’s interest, if possible, to save

the boy, having one thousand dollars at stake in him). But, whilst

we were eating, some persons who had heard of the murder broke open

the door, took the poor fellow, put a log chain round his neck, and

started him for the woods, at the point of the bayonet, marching by

where we were eating, with a great deal of noise. My employer,

hearing it, ran out, and rescued the boy. The mob again broke in and

took the boy, and marched him, as before stated, out of town.

My employer then begged them not to disgrace their town in such a

manner; but to appoint a jury of twelve sober men, to decide what

should be done. And twelve as _sober_ men as could be found (I was

not sober) said he must be hanged. They then tied a rope round his

neck, and set him on an old horse. He made a speech to the mob,

which I, at the time, thought if it had come from some senator,

would have been received with rounds of applause; and, withal, he

was more calm than I am now, in writing this. And, after he had told

all about the deed, and its cause, he then kicked the horse out from

under him, and was launched into eternity. My employer has often

remarked that he never saw anything more noble, in his whole life,

than the conduct of that boy.

Now, Mr. Editor, I have given you facts, and can give you names and

dates. You can do what you think is best for the cause of humanity.

I hope I have seen the evil of my former practices, and will

endeavor to reform.

Very respectfully,

JAMES L. HILL.

_Springfield, Ill., Sept. 17th, 1852._

“The Opinion of a Southerner,” given below, appeared in the _National

Era_, published at Washington. This is an anti-slavery journal, but by

its generous tone and eminent ability it commands the respect and

patronage of many readers in the slave states:

The following communication comes enclosed in an envelope from

Louisiana.—_Ed. Era._

THE OPINION OF A SOUTHERNER.

_To the Editor of the National Era_:

I have just been reading, in the _New York Observer_ of the 12th of

August, an article from the _Southern Free Press_, headed by an

editorial one from the _Observer_, that has for its caption,

“_Progress in the Right Quarter_.”

The editor of the _New York Observer_ says that the _Southern Free

Press_ has been an able and earnest defender of Southern

institutions; but that he now advocates the passage of a law to

prohibit the separation of families, and recommends instruction to a

portion of slaves that are most honest and faithful. The _Observer_

further adds: “It was such language as this that was becoming

common, before Northern fanaticism ruined the prospects of

emancipation.” It is not so! Northern fanaticism, as he calls it,

has done everything that has been done for bettering the condition

of the slave. Every one who knows anything of slavery for the last

thirty years will recollect that about that time since, the

condition of the slave in Louisiana—for about Louisiana only do I

speak, because about Louisiana only do I know—was as depressed and

miserable as any of the accounts of the abolitionists that ever I

have seen have made it. I say abolitionists; I mean friends and

advocates of freedom, in a fair and honorable way. If any doubt my

assertion, let them seek for information. Let them get the black

laws of Louisiana, and read them. Let them get facts from

individuals of veracity, on whose statements they would rely.

This wretched condition of slaves roused the friends of humanity,

who, like men, and Christian men, came fearlessly forward, and told

truths, indignantly expressing their abhorrence of their oppressors.

Such measures, of course, brought forth strife, which caused the

cries of humanity to sound louder and louder throughout the land.

The friends of freedom gained the ascendency in the hearts of the

people, and the slave-holders were brought to a stand. Some, through

fear of consequences, lessened their cruelties, while others were

made to think, that, perhaps, were not unwilling to do so when it

was urged upon them. Cruelties were not only refrained from, but the

slave’s comforts were increased. A retrograde treatment now was not

practicable. Fears of rebellion kept them to it. The slave had found

friends, and they were watchful. It was, however, soon discovered

that too many privileges, too much leniency, and giving knowledge,

would destroy the power to keep down the slave, and tend to weaken,

if not destroy, the system. Accordingly, stringent laws had to be

passed, and a penalty attached to them. No one must teach, or cause

to be taught, a slave, without incurring the penalty. The law is now

in force. These necessary laws, as they are called, are all put down

to the account of the friends of freedom—to their interference. I do

suppose that they do justly belong to their interference; for who

that studies the history of the world’s transactions does not know

that in all contests with power the weak, until successful, will be

dealt with more rigorously? Lose not sight, however, of their former

condition. Law after law has since been passed to draw the cord

tighter around the poor slave, and all attributed to the

abolitionists. Well, anyhow, progress is being made. Here comes out

the _Southern Press_, and makes some honorable concessions. He says:

“The assaults upon slavery, made for the last twenty years by the

North, have increased the evils of it. The treatment of slaves has

undoubtedly become a delicate and difficult question. The South has

a great and moral conflict to wage; and it is for her to put on _the

most invulnerable moral panoply_.” He then thinks the availability

of slave property would not be injured by passing a law to prohibit

the separation of slave families; for he says, “Although cases

sometimes occur which we observe are seized by these Northern

fanatics as characteristic of the system,” &c. Nonsense! there are

no “cases sometimes” occurring—no such thing! They are every day’s

occurrences, though there are families that form the exception, and

many, I would hope, that would not do it. While I am writing I can

call before me three men that were brought here by negro traders

from Virginia, each having left six or seven children, with their

wives, from whom they have never heard. One other died here, a short

time since, who left the same number in Carolina, from whom he had

never heard.

I spent the summer of 1845 in Nashville. During the month of

September, six hundred slaves passed through that place, in four

different gangs, for New Orleans—final destination, probably, Texas.

A goodly proportion were women; young women, of course; many mothers

must have left not only their children, but their babies. One gang

only had a few children. I made some excursions to the different

watering places around Nashville; and while at Robinson, or Tyree

Springs, twenty miles from Nashville, on the borders of Kentucky and

Tennessee, my hostess said to me, one day, “Yonder comes a gang of

slaves, chained.” I went to the road-side, and viewed them. For the

better answering my purpose of observation, I stopped the white man

in front, who was at his ease in a one-horse wagon, and asked him if

those slaves were for sale. I counted them and observed their

position. They were divided by three one-horse wagons, each

containing a man-merchant, so arranged as to command the whole gang.

Some were unchained; sixty were chained, in two companies, thirty in

each, the right hand of one to the left hand of the other opposite

one, making fifteen each side of a large ox-chain, to which every

hand was fastened, and necessarily compelled to hold up,—men and

women promiscuously, and about in equal proportions,—all young

people. No children here, except a few in a wagon behind, which were

the only children in the four gangs. I said to a respectable mulatto

woman in the house, “Is it true that the negro traders take mothers

from their babies?” “Missis, it is true; for here, last week, such a

girl [naming her], who lives about a mile off, was taken after

dinner,—knew nothing of it in the morning,—sold, put into the gang,

and her baby was given away to a neighbor. She was a stout young

woman, and brought a good price.”

The annexation of Texas induced the spirited traffic that summer.

Coming down home in a small boat, water low, a negro trader on board

had forty-five men and women crammed into a little spot, some

handcuffed. One respectable-looking man had left a wife and seven

children in Nashville. Near Memphis the boat stopped at a plantation

by previous arrangement, to take in thirty more. An hour’s delay was

the stipulated time with the captain of the boat. Thirty young men

and women came down the bank of the Mississippi, looking

wretchedness personified—just from the field; in appearance dirty,

disconsolate and oppressed; some with an old shawl under their arm,

a few had blankets; some had nothing at all—looked as though they

cared for nothing. I calculated, while looking at them coming down

the bank, that I could hold in a bundle all that the whole of them

had. The short notice that was given them, when about to leave, was

in consequence of the fears entertained that they would slip one

side. They all looked distressed,—leaving all that was dear to them

behind, to be put under the hammer, for the property of the highest

bidder. No children here! The whole seventy-five were crammed into a

little space on the boat, men and women all together.

I am happy to see that morality is rearing its head with advocates

for slavery, and that a “most invulnerable moral panoply” is thought

to be necessary. I hope it may not prove to be like Mr. Clay’s

compromises. The _Southern Press_ says: “As for caricatures of

slavery in ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ and the ‘White Slave,’ all founded in

imaginary circumstances, &c., we consider them highly incendiary. He

who undertakes to stir up strife between two individual neighbors,

by detraction, is justly regarded, by all men and all moral codes,

as a criminal.” Then he quotes the ninth commandment, and adds: “But

to bear false witness against whole states, and millions of people,

&c., would seem to be a crime as much deeper in turpitude as the

mischief is greater and the provocation less.” In the first place, I

will put the _Southern Press_ upon proof that Mrs. Harriet Beecher

Stowe has told one falsehood. If she has told truth, it is, indeed,

a powerful engine of “assault on slavery,” such as these Northern

fanatics have made for the “last twenty years.” The number against

whom she offends, in the editor’s opinion, seems to increase the

turpitude of her crime. That is good reasoning! I hope the editor

will be brought to feel that wholesale wickedness is worse than

single-handed, and is infinitely harder to reach, particularly if of

long standing. It gathers boldness and strength when it is

sanctioned by the authority of time, and aided by numbers that are

interested in supporting it. Such is slavery; and Mrs. Harriet

Beecher Stowe deserves the gratitude of “states and millions of

people” for her talented work, in showing it up in its true light.

She has advocated truth, justice and humanity, and they will back

her efforts. Her work will be read by “states and millions of

people;” and when the _Southern Press_ attempts to malign her, by

bringing forward her own avowal, “that the subject of slavery had

been so painful to her, that she had abstained from conversing on it

for several years,” and that, in his opinion, “it accounts for the

intensity of the venom of her book,” his _really_ envenomed shafts

will fall harmless at her feet; for readers will judge for

themselves, and be very apt to conclude that more venom comes from

the _Southern Press_ than from her. She advocates what is right, and

has a straight road, which “few get lost on;” he advocates what is

wrong, and has, consequently, to tack, concede, deny, slander, and

all sorts of things.

With all due deference to whatever of just principles the _Southern

Press_ may have advanced in favor of the slave, I am a poor judge of

human nature if I mistake in saying that Mrs. Stowe has done much to

draw from him those concessions; and the putting forth of this

“_most invulnerable moral panoply_,” that has just come into his

head as a bulwark of safety for slavery, owes its impetus to her,

and other like efforts. I hope the _Southern Press_ will not imitate

the spoiled child, who refused to eat his pie for spite.

The “White Slave” I have not seen. I guess its character, for I made

a passage to New York, some fourteen or fifteen years since, in a

packet-ship, with a young woman whose face was enveloped in a

profusion of light brown curls, and who sat at the table with the

passengers all the way as a white woman. When at the quarantine,

Staten Island, the captain received a letter, sent by express mail,

from a person in New Orleans, claiming her as his slave, and

threatening the captain with the penalty of the existing law if she

was not immediately returned. The streaming eyes of the poor,

unfortunate girl told the truth, when the captain reluctantly broke

it to her. She unhesitatingly confessed that she had run away, and

that a friend had paid her passage. Proper measures were taken, and

she was conveyed to a packet-ship that was at Sandy Hook, bound for

New Orleans.

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” I think, is a just delineation of slavery. The

incidents are colored, but the position that the slave is made to

hold is just. I did not read every page of it, my object being to

ascertain what position the slave occupied. I could state a case of

whipping to death that would equal Uncle Tom’s; still, such cases

are not very frequent.

The stirring up of strife between neighbors, that the _Southern

Press_ complains of, deserves notice. Who are neighbors? The most

explicit answer to this question will be found in the reply Christ

made to the lawyer, when he asked it of him. Another question will

arise, Whether, in Christ’s judgment, Mrs. Stowe would be considered

a neighbor or an incendiary? As the Almighty Ruler of the universe

and the Maker of man has said that He has made all the nations of

the earth of one blood, and man in His own image, the black man,

irrespective of his color, would seem to be a neighbor who has

fallen among his enemies, that have deprived him of the fruits of

his labor, his liberty, his right to his wife and children, his

right to obtain the knowledge to read, or to anything that earth

holds dear, except such portions of food and raiment as will fit him

for his despoiler’s purposes. Let not the apologists for slavery

bring up the isolated cases of leniency, giving instruction, and

affectionate attachment, that are found among some masters, as

specimens of slavery! It is unfair! They form exceptions, and much

do I respect them; but they are not the rules of slavery. The strife

that is being stirred up is not to take away anything that belongs

to another,—neither their silver or gold, their fine linen or

purple, their houses or land, their horses or cattle, or anything

that is their property; but to rescue a neighbor from their unmanly

cupidity.

A REPUBLICAN.

No introduction is necessary to explain the following correspondence,

and no commendation will be required to secure for it a respectful

attention from thinking readers:

{ _Washington City, D. C.,_

{ _Dec. 6, 1852._

D. R. GOODLOE, ESQ.

DEAR SIR: I understand that you are a North Carolinian, and have

always resided in the South, you must, consequently, be acquainted

with the workings of the institution of slavery. You have doubtless

also read that world-renowned book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” by Mrs.

Stowe. The apologists for slavery deny that this book is a truthful

picture of slavery. They say that its representations are

exaggerated, its scenes and incidents unfounded, and, in a word,

that the whole book is a _caricature_. They also deny that families

are separated,—that children are sold from their parents, wives from

their husbands, &c. Under these circumstances, I am induced to ask

your opinion of Mrs. Stowe’s book, and whether or not, in your

opinion, her statements are entitled to credit.

I have the honor to be,

Yours, truly,

A. M. GANGEWER.

* * * * *

_Washington, Dec. 8, 1852._

DEAR SIR: Your letter of the 6th inst., asking my opinion of “Uncle

Tom’s Cabin,” has been received; and there being no reason why I

should withhold it, unless it be the fear of public opinion (your

object being, as I understand, the publication of my reply), I

proceed to give it in some detail.

A book of fiction, to be worth reading, must necessarily be filled

with rare and striking incidents, and the leading characters must be

remarkable, some for great virtues, others, perhaps, for great vices

or follies. A narrative of the ordinary events in the lives of

commonplace people would be insufferably dull and insipid; and a

book made up of such materials would be, to the elegant and graphic

pictures of life and manners which we have in the writings of Sir

Walter Scott and Dickens, what a surveyor’s plot of a ten-acre field

is to a painted landscape, in which the eye is charmed by a thousand

varieties of hill and dale, of green shrubbery and transparent

water, of light and shade, at a glance. In order to determine

whether a novel is a fair picture of society, it is not necessary to

ask if its chief personages are to be met with every day; but

whether they are characteristic of the times and country,—whether

they embody the prevalent sentiments, virtues, vices, follies, and

peculiarities,—and whether the events, tragic or otherwise, are such

as may and do occasionally occur.

Judging “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by these principles, I have no

hesitation in saying that it is a faithful portraiture of Southern

life and institutions. There is nothing in the book inconsistent

with the laws and usages of the slave-holding states; the virtues,

vices, and peculiar hues of character and manners, are all Southern,

and must be recognized at once by every one who reads the book. I

may never have seen such depravity in one man as that exhibited in

the character of Legree, though I have ten thousand times witnessed

the various shades of it in different individuals. On the other

hand, I have never seen so many perfections concentrated in one

human being as Mrs. Stowe has conferred upon the daughter of a

slave-holder. Evangeline is an image of beauty and goodness which

can never be effaced from the mind, whatever may be its prejudices.

Yet her whole character is fragrant of the South; her generous

sympathy, her beauty and delicacy, her sensibility are all Southern.

They are “to the manor born,” and embodying as they do the Southern

ideal of beauty and loveliness, cannot be ostracized from Southern

hearts, even by the power of the vigilance committees.

The character of St. Clare cannot fail to inspire love

and admiration. He is the _beau idéal_ of a Southern

gentleman,—honorable, generous and humane, of accomplished manners,

liberal education, and easy fortune. In his treatment of his slaves,

he errs on the side of lenity, rather than vigor; and is always

their kind protector, from a natural impulse of goodness, without

much reflection upon what may befall them when death or misfortune

shall deprive them of his friendship.

Mr. Shelby, the original owner of Uncle Tom, and who sells him to a

trader, from the pressure of a sort of pecuniary necessity, is by no

means a bad character; his wife and son are whatever honor and

humanity could wish; and, in a word, the only white persons who make

any considerable figure in the book to a disadvantage are the

villain Legree, who is a Vermonter by birth, and the oily-tongued

slave-trader Haley, who has the accent of a Northerner. It is,

therefore, evident that Mrs. Stowe’s object in writing “Uncle Tom’s

Cabin” has not been to disparage Southern character. A careful

analysis of the book would authorize the opposite inference,—that

she has studied to shield the Southern people from opprobrium, and

even to convey an elevated idea of Southern society, at the moment

of exposing the evils of the system of slavery. She directs her

batteries against the institution, not against individuals; and

generously makes a renegade Vermonter stand for her most hideous

picture of a brutal tyrant.

Invidious as the duty may be, I cannot withhold my testimony to the

fact that families of slaves are often separated. I know not how any

man can have the hardihood to deny it. The thing is notorious, and

is often the subject of painful remark in the Southern States. I

have often heard the practice of separating husband and wife, parent

and child, defended, apologized for, palliated in a thousand ways,

but have never heard it denied. How could it be denied, in fact,

when probably the very circumstance which elicited the conversation

was a case of cruel separation then transpiring? No, sir! the denial

of this fact by mercenary scribblers may deceive persons at a

distance, but it can impose upon no one at the South.

In all the slave-holding states the relation of matrimony between

slaves, or between a slave and free person, is merely voluntary.

There is no law sanctioning it, or recognizing it in any shape,

directly or indirectly. In a word, it is illicit, and binds no

one,—neither the slaves themselves nor their masters. In separating

husband and wife, or parent and child, the trader or owner violates

no law of the state—neither statute nor common law. He buys or sells

at auction or privately that which the majesty of the law has

declared to be property. The victims may writhe in agony, and the

tender-hearted spectator may look on with gloomy sorrow and

indignation, but it is to no purpose. The promptings of mercy and

justice in the heart are only in rebellion against the law of the

land.

The law itself not unfrequently performs the most cruel separations

of families, almost without the intervention of individual agency.

This happens in the case of persons who die insolvent, or who become

so during lifetime. The estate, real and personal, must be disposed

of at auction to the highest bidder, and the executor,

administrator, sheriff, trustee, or other person whose duty it is to

dispose of the property, although he may possess the most humane

intentions in the world, cannot prevent the final severance of the

most endearing ties of kindred. The illustration given by Mrs.

Stowe, in the sale of Uncle Tom by Mr. Shelby, is a very common

case. Pecuniary embarrassment is a most fruitful source of

misfortune to the slave as well as the master; and instances of

family ties broken from this cause are of daily occurrence.

It often happens that great abuses exist in violation of law, and in

spite of the efforts of the authorities to suppress them; such is

the case with drunkenness, gambling, and other vices. But here is a

law common to all the slave-holding states, which upholds and gives

countenance to the wrong-doer, while its blackest terrors are

reserved for those who would interpose to protect the innocent.

Statesmen of elevated and honorable characters, from a vague notion

of state necessity, have defended this law in the abstract, while

they would, without hesitation, condemn every instance of its

application as unjust.

In one respect I am glad to see it publicly denied that the families

of slaves are separated; for while it argues a disreputable want of

candor, it at the same time evinces a commendable sense of shame,

and induces the hope that the public opinion at the South will not

much longer tolerate this most odious, though not essential, part of

the system of slavery.

In this connection I will call to your recollection a remark of the

editor of the _Southern Press_, in one of the last numbers of that

paper, which acknowledges the existence of the abuse in question,

and recommends its correction. He says:

“The South has a great moral conflict to wage; and it is for her to

put on the most invulnerable moral panoply. Hence it is her duty, as

well as interest, to mitigate or remove whatever of evil that

results incidentally from the institution. The separation of husband

and wife, parent and child, is one of these evils, which we know is

generally avoided and repudiated there—although cases sometimes

occur which we observe are seized by these Northern fanatics as

characteristic illustrations of the system. Now we can see no great

evil or inconvenience, but much good, in the prohibition by law of

such occurrences. Let the husband and wife be sold together, and the

parents and minor children. Such a law would affect but slightly the

general value or availability of slave property, and would prevent

in some cases the violence done to the feelings of such connections

by sales either compulsory or voluntary. We are satisfied that it

would be beneficial to the master and slave to promote marriage, and

the observance of all its duties and relations.”

Much as I have differed with the editor of the _Southern Press_ in

his general views of public policy, I am disposed to forgive him

past errors in consideration of his public acknowledgment of this

“incidental evil,” and his frank recommendation of its removal. A

Southern newspaper less devoted than the _Southern Press_ to the

maintenance of slavery would be seriously compromised by such a

suggestion, and its advice would be far less likely to be heeded. I

think, therefore, that Mr. Fisher deserves the thanks of every good

man, North and South, for thus boldly pointing out the necessity of

reform.

The picture which Mrs. Stowe has drawn of slavery as an institution

is anything but favorable. She has illustrated the frightful cruelty

and oppression that must result from a law which gives to one class

of society almost absolute and irresponsible power over another. Yet

the very machinery she has employed for this purpose shows that all

who are parties to the system are not necessarily culpable. It is a

high virtue in St. Clare to purchase Uncle Tom. He is actuated by no

selfish or improper motive. Moved by a desire to gratify his

daughter, and prompted by his own humane feelings, he purchases a

slave, in order to rescue him from a hard fate on the plantations.

If he had not been a slave-holder before, it was now his duty to

become one. This, I think, is the moral to be drawn from the story

of St. Clare, and the South have a right to claim the authority of

Mrs. Stowe in defence of slave-holding, to this extent.

It may be said that it was the duty of St. Clare to emancipate Uncle

Tom; but the wealth of the Rothschilds would not enable a man to act

out his benevolent instincts at such a price. And if such was his

duty, is it not equally the duty of every monied man in the free

states to attend the New Orleans slave-mart with the same benevolent

purpose in view? It seems to me that to purchase a slave with the

purpose of saving him from a hard and cruel fate, and without any

view to emancipation, is itself a good action. If the slave should

subsequently become able to redeem himself, it would doubtless be

the duty of the owner to emancipate him; and it would be but

even-handed justice to set down every dollar of the slave’s

earnings, above the expense of his maintenance, to his credit, until

the price paid for him should be fully restored. This is all that

justice could exact of the slave-holder.

Those who have railed against “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” as an incendiary

publication have singularly (supposing that they have read the book)

overlooked the moral of the hero’s life. Uncle Tom is the most

faithful of servants. He literally “obeyed in all things” his

“masters according to the flesh; not with eye-service, as

men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing God.” If his

conduct exhibits the slightest departure from a literal fulfilment

of this injunction of Scripture, it is in a case which must command

the approbation of the most rigid casuist; for the injunction of

obedience extends, of course, only to lawful commands. It is only

when the monster Legree commands him to inflict undeserved

chastisement upon his fellow-servants, that Uncle Tom refuses

obedience. He would not listen to a proposition of escaping into

Ohio with the young woman Eliza, on the night after they were sold

by Mr. Shelby to the trader Haley. He thought it would be bad faith

to his late master, whom he had nursed in his arms, and might be the

means of bringing him into difficulty. He offered no resistance to

Haley, and obeyed even Legree in every legitimate command. But when

he was required to be the instrument of his master’s cruelty, he

chose rather to die, with the courage and resolution of a Christian

martyr, than to save his life by a guilty compliance. Such was Uncle

Tom—not a bad example for the imitation of man or master.

I am, sir, very respectfully,

Your ob’t serv’t,

DANIEL R. GOODLOE.

A. M. GANGEWER, Esq.,

Washington, D. C.

The writer has received permission to publish the following extract from

a letter received by a lady at the North from the editor of a Southern

paper. The mind and character of the author will speak for themselves,

in the reading of it:

_Charleston, Sunday, 25th July, 1852._

* * * The books, I infer, are Mrs. Beecher Stowe’s “_Uncle Tom’s

Cabin_.” The book was furnished me by —— ——, about a fortnight ago,

and you may be assured I read it with an attentive interest. “Now,

what is your opinion of it?” you will ask; and, knowing my

preconceived opinions upon the question of slavery, and the

embodiment of my principles, which I have so long supported, in

regard to that _peculiar_ institution, you may be prepared to meet

an indirect answer. This my own consciousness of truth would not

allow, in the present instance. The book is a truthful picture of

life, with the dark outlines beautifully portrayed. The life—the

characteristics, incidents, and the dialogues—is life itself reduced

to paper. In her appendix she rather evades the question whether it

was taken from actual scones, but says there are many counterparts.

In this she is correct, beyond doubt. Had she changed the picture of

Legree, on Red river, for —— ——, on —— Island, South Carolina, she

could not have drawn a more admirable portrait. I am led to question

whether she had not some knowledge of this beast, as he is known to

be, and made the transposition for effect.

My position in connection with the extreme party, both in Georgia

and South Carolina, would constitute a restraint to the full

expression of my feelings upon several of the governing principles

of the institution. I have studied slavery, in all its different

phases,—have been thrown in contact with the negro in different

parts of the world, and made it my aim to study his nature, so far

as my limited abilities would give me light,—and, whatever my

opinions have been, they were based upon what I supposed to be

honest convictions.

During the last three years you well know what my opportunities have

been to examine all the sectional bearings of an institution which

now holds the great and most momentous question of our federal

well-being. These opportunities I have not let pass, but have given

myself, body and soul, to a knowledge of its vast intricacies,—to

its constitutional compact, and its individual hardships. Its wrongs

are in the constituted rights of the master, and the _blank letter_

of those laws which pretend to govern the bondman’s rights. What

legislative act, based upon the construction of self-protection for

the very men who contemplate the laws,—even though their intention

was amelioration,—could be enforced, when the legislated object is

held as the _bond property_ of the legislator? The very fact of

constituting a law for the amelioration of property becomes an

absurdity, so far as carrying it out is concerned. A law which is

intended to govern, and gives the governed no means of seeking its

protection, is like the clustering together of so many useless words

for vain show. But why talk of law? That which is considered the

popular rights of a people, and every tenacious prejudice set forth

to protect its property interest, creates its own power, against

every weaker vessel. Laws which interfere with this become

unpopular,—repugnant to a forceable will, and a dead letter in

effect. So long as the voice of the governed cannot be heard, and

his wrongs are felt beyond the jurisdiction or domain of the law, as

nine-tenths are, where is the hope of redress? The master is the

powerful vessel; the negro feels his dependence, and, fearing the

consequences of an appeal for his rights, submits to the cruelty of

his master, in preference to the dread of something more cruel. It

is in those disputed cases of cruelty we find the wrongs of slavery,

and in those governing laws which give power to bad Northern men to

become the most cruel taskmasters. Do not judge, from my

observations, that I am seeking consolation for the abolitionists.

Such is not my intention; but truth to a course which calls loudly

for reformation constrains me to say that humanity calls for some

law to govern the force and absolute will of the master, and to

reform no part is more requisite than that which regards the slave’s

food and raiment. A person must live years at the South before he

can become fully acquainted with the many workings of slavery. A

Northern man not prominently interested in the political and social

weal of the South may live for years in it, and pass from town to

town in his every-day pursuits, and yet see but the polished side of

slavery. With me it has been different. Its effect upon the negro

himself, and its effect upon the social and commercial well-being of

Southern society, has been laid broadly open to me, and I have seen

more of its workings within the past year than was disclosed to me

all the time before. It is with these feelings that I am constrained

to do credit to Mrs. Stowe’s book, which I consider must have been

written by one who derived the materials from a thorough

acquaintance with the subject. The character of the slave-dealer,

the bankrupt owner in Kentucky, and the New Orleans merchant, are

simple every-day occurrences in these parts. Editors may speak of

the dramatic effect as they please; the tale is not told them, and

the occurrences of common reality would form a picture more glaring.

I could write a work, with date and incontrovertible facts, of

abuses which stand recorded in the knowledge of the community in

which they were transacted, that would need no dramatic effect, and

would stand out ten-fold more horrible than anything Mrs. Stowe has

described.

I have read two columns in the _Southern Press_ of Mrs. Eastman’s

“_Aunt Phillis’ Cabin_, or Southern Life as It Is,” with the remarks

of the editor. I have no comments to make upon it, that being done

by itself. The editor might have saved himself being writ down an

ass by the public, if he had withheld his nonsense. If the two

columns are a specimen of Mrs. Eastman’s book, I pity her attempt

and her name as an author.

PART II.

CHAPTER I.

The New York _Courier and Enquirer_ of November 5th contained an article

which has been quite valuable to the author, as summing up, in a clear,

concise and intelligible form, the principal objections which may be

urged to _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_. It is here quoted in full, as the

foundation of the remarks in the following pages.

The author of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” that writer states, has committed

false-witness against thousands and millions of her fellow-men.

She has done it [he says] by attaching to them as slaveholders, in

the eyes of the world, the guilt of the abuses of an institution of

which they are absolutely guiltless. Her story is so devised as to

present slavery in three dark aspects: first, the _cruel treatment_

of the slaves; second, _the separation of families_; and, third,

their _want of religious instruction_.

To show the first, she causes a reward to be offered for the

recovery of a runaway slave, “dead or alive,” when no reward with

such an alternative was ever heard of, or dreamed of, south of Mason

and Dixon’s line, and it has been decided over and over again in

Southern courts that “a slave who is merely flying away cannot be

killed.” She puts such language as this into the mouth of one of her

speakers:—“The master who goes furthest and does the worst only uses

within limits the power that the law gives him;” when, in fact, the

civil code of the very state where it is represented the language

was uttered—Louisiana—declares that

“The slave is entirely subject to the will of his master, who may

correct and chastise him, _though not with unusual rigor, nor so as

to maim or mutilate him, or to expose him to the danger of loss of

life, or to cause his death_.”

And provides for a compulsory sale

“When the master shall be convicted of cruel treatment of his

slaves, and the judge shall deem proper to pronounce, besides the

penalty established for such cases, that the slave be sold at public

auction, _in order to place him out of the reach of the power which

the master has abused_.”

“If any person whatsoever shall wilfully kill his slave, or the

slave of another person, the said person, being convicted thereof,

shall be tried and condemned agreeably to the laws.”

In the General Court of Virginia, last year, in the case of Souther

_v._ the Commonwealth, it was held that the killing of a slave by

his master and owner, by wilful and excessive whipping, is murder in

the first degree, _though it may not have been the purpose of the

master and owner to kill the slave_! And it is not six months since

Governor Johnston, of Virginia, pardoned a slave who killed his

master, who was beating him with brutal severity.

And yet, in the face of such laws and decisions as these, Mrs. Stowe

winds up a long series of cruelties upon her other black personages,

by causing her faultless hero, Tom, to be literally whipped to death

in Louisiana, by his master, Legree; and these acts, which the laws

make criminal, and punish as such, she sets forth in the most

repulsive colors, to illustrate the institution of slavery!

So, too, in reference to the separation of children from their

parents. A considerable part of the plot is made to hinge upon the

selling, in Louisiana, of the child Eliza, “eight or nine years

old,” away from her mother; when, had its inventor looked in the

statute-book of Louisiana, she would have found the following

language:

“Every person is expressly prohibited from selling separately from

their mothers _the children who shall not have attained the full age

of ten years_.”

“_Be it further enacted_, That if any person or persons shall sell

the mother of any slave child or children _under the age of ten

years, separate from said child or children, or shall, the mother

living, sell any slave child or children of ten years of age, or

under, separate from said mother_, said person or persons shall be

fined not less than one thousand nor more than two thousand dollars,

and be imprisoned in the public jail for a period of not less than

six months nor more than one year.”

The privation of religious instruction, as represented by Mrs.

Stowe, is utterly unfounded in fact. The largest churches in the

Union consist entirely of slaves. The first African church in

Louisville, which numbers fifteen hundred persons, and the first

African church in Augusta, which numbers thirteen hundred, are

specimens. On multitudes of the large plantations in the different

parts of the South the ordinances of the gospel are as regularly

maintained, by competent ministers, as in any other communities,

north or south. A larger proportion of the slave population are in

communion with some Christian church, than of the white population

in any part of the country. A very considerable portion of every

southern congregation, either in city or country, is sure to consist

of blacks; whereas, of our northern churches, not a colored person

is to be seen in one out of fifty.

The peculiar falsity of this whole book consists in making

exceptional or impossible cases the representatives of the system.

By the same process which she has used, it would not be difficult to

frame a fatal argument against the relation of husband and wife, or

parent and child, or of guardian and ward; for thousands of wives

and children and wards have been maltreated, and even murdered. It

is wrong, unpardonably wrong, to impute to any relation of life

those enormities which spring only out of the worst depravity of

human nature. A ridiculously extravagant spirit of generalization

pervades this fiction from beginning to end. The Uncle Tom of the

authoress is a perfect angel, and her blacks generally are half

angels; her Simon Legree is a perfect demon, and her whites

generally are half demons. She has quite a peculiar spite against

the clergy; and, of the many she introduces at different times into

the scenes, all, save an insignificant exception, are Pharisees or

hypocrites. One who could know nothing of the United States and its

people, except by what he might gather from this book, would judge

that it was some region just on the confines of the infernal world.

We do not say that Mrs. Stowe was actuated by wrong motives in the

preparation of this work, but we do say that she has done a wrong

which no ignorance can excuse and no penance can expiate.

A much-valued correspondent of the author, writing from Richmond,

Virginia, also uses the following language:

I will venture this morning to make a few suggestions which have

occurred to me in regard to future editions of your work, “Uncle

Tom’s Cabin,” which I desire should have all the influence of which

your genius renders it capable, not only abroad, but in the local

sphere of slavery, where it has been hitherto repudiated. Possessing

already the great requisites of artistic beauty and of sympathetic

affection, it may yet be improved in regard to accuracy of statement

without being at all enfeebled. For example, you do less than

justice to the formalized laws of the Southern States, while you

give more credit than is due to the virtue of public or private

sentiment in restricting the evil which the laws permit.

I enclose the following extracts from a southern paper:

“‘I’ll manage that ar; they’s young in the business, and must

spect to work cheap,’ said Marks, as he continued to read.

‘Thar’s three on ‘em easy cases, ‘cause all you’ve got to do is

to shoot ‘em, or swear they is shot; they couldn’t, of course,

charge much for that.’”

“The reader will observe that two charges against the South are

involved in this precious discourse;—one that it is the habit of

Southern masters to offer a reward, with the alternative of ‘dead or

alive,’ for their fugitive slaves; and the other, that it is usual

for pursuers to shoot them. Indeed, we are led to infer that, as the

shooting is the easier mode of obtaining the reward, it is the more

frequently employed in such cases. Now, when a Southern master

offers a reward for his runaway slave, it is because he has lost a

certain amount of property, represented by the negro which he wishes

to recover. What man of Vermont, having an ox or an ass that had

gone astray, would forthwith offer half the full value of the

animal, not for the carcass, which might be turned to some useful

purpose, but for the unavailing satisfaction of its head? Yet are

the two cases exactly parallel? With regard to the assumption that

men are permitted to go about, at the South, with double-barrelled

guns, shooting down runaway negroes, in preference to apprehending

them, we can only say that it is as wicked and wilful as it is

ridiculous. Such Thugs there may have been as Marks and Loker, who

have killed negroes in this unprovoked manner; but, if they have

escaped the gallows, they are probably to be found within the walls

of our state penitentiaries, where they are comfortably provided for

at public expense. The laws of the Southern States, which are

designed, as in all good governments, for the protection of persons

and property, have not been so loosely framed as to fail of their

object where person and property are one.

“The law with regard to the killing of runaways is laid down with so

much clearness and precision by a South Carolina judge, that we

cannot forbear quoting his dictum, as directly in point. In the case

of Witsell _v._ Earnest and Parker, Colcock J. delivered the opinion

of the court:

[Sidenote: Jan. term, 1818 1 Nott & McCord’s S. C. Rep. 182.]

“‘By the statute of 1740, any white man may apprehend, and

moderately correct, any slave who may be found out of the plantation

at which he is employed; and if the slave assaults the white person,

he may be killed; but a slave who is merely flying away cannot be

killed. Nor can the defendants be justified by the common law, if we

consider the negro as a person; for they were not clothed with the

authority of the law to apprehend him as a felon, and without such

authority he could not be killed.’

“‘It’s commonly supposed that the _property_ interest is a

sufficient guard in these cases. If people choose to ruin their

possessions, I don’t know what’s to be done. It seems the poor

creature was a thief and a drunkard; and so there won’t be much

hope to get up sympathy for her.’

“‘It is perfectly outrageous,—it is horrid, Augustine! It will

certainly bring down vengeance upon you.’

“‘My dear cousin, I didn’t do it, and I can’t help it; I would,

if I could. If low-minded, brutal people will act like

themselves, what am I to do? _They have absolute control; they

are irresponsible despots._ There would be no use in

interfering; _there is no law, that amounts to anything

practically, for such a case_. The best we can do is to shut our

eyes and ears, and let it alone. It’s the only resource left

us.’

“In a subsequent part of the same conversation, St. Clare says:

“‘For pity’s sake, for shame’s sake, because we are men born of

women, and not savage beasts, many of us do not, and dare

not,—we would _scorn_ to use the full power which our savage

laws put into our hands. _And he who goes furthest and does the

worst only uses within limits the power that the law gives

him._’

“Mrs. Stowe tells us, through St. Clare, that ‘there is no law that

amounts to anything’ in such cases, and that he who goes furthest in

severity towards his slave,—that is, to the deprivation of an eye or

a limb, or even the destruction of life,—‘only uses within limits

the power that the law gives him.’ This is an awful and tremendous

charge, which, lightly and unwarrantably made, must subject the

maker to a fearful accountability. Let us see how the matter stands

upon the statute-book of Louisiana. By referring to the civil code

of that state, chapter 3d, article 173, the reader will find this

general declaration:

“‘The slave is entirely subject to the will of his master, who may

correct and chastise him, _though not with unusual rigor, nor so as

to maim or mutilate him, or to expose him to the danger of loss of

life, or to cause his death_.’

“On a subsequent page of the same volume and chapter, article 192,

we find provision made for the slave’s protection against his

master’s cruelty, in the statement that one of two cases, in which a

master can be compelled to sell his slave, is

“‘When the master shall be convicted of cruel treatment of his

slave, and the judge shall deem proper to pronounce, _besides the

penalty established for such cases_, that the slave shall be sold at

public auction, _in order to place him out of the reach of the power

which the master has abused_.’

“A code thus watchful of the negro’s safety in life and limb

confines not its guardianship to inhibitory clauses, but proscribes

extreme penalties in case of their infraction. In the Code Noir

(Black Code) of Louisiana, under head of Crimes and Offences, No.

55, § xvi., it is laid down, that

“‘If any person whatsoever shall wilfully kill his slave, or the

slave of another person, the said person, being convicted thereof,

shall be tried and condemned agreeably to the laws.’

“And because negro testimony is inadmissible in the courts of the

state, and therefore the evidence of such crimes might be with

difficulty supplied, it is further provided that,

[Sidenote: Code Noir. Crimes and Offences, 56, xvii.]

“‘If any slave be mutilated, beaten or ill-treated, contrary to the

true intent and meaning of this act, when no one shall be present,

in such case the owner, or other person having the management of

said slave thus mutilated, shall be deemed responsible and guilty of

the said offence, and shall be prosecuted without further evidence,

unless the said owner, or other person so as aforesaid, can prove

the contrary by means of good and sufficient evidence, or can clear

himself by his own oath, which said oath every court, under the

cognizance of which such offence shall have been examined and tried,

is by this act authorized to administer.’

“Enough has been quoted to establish the utter falsity of the

statement, made by our authoress through St. Clare, that brutal

masters are ‘irresponsible despots,’—at least in Louisiana. It would

extend our review to a most unreasonable length, should we undertake

to give the law, with regard to the murder of slaves, as it stands

in each of the Southern States. The crime is a rare one, and

therefore the reporters have had few cases to record. We may refer,

however, to two. In _Fields v. the State of Tennessee_, the

plaintiff in error was indicted in the circuit court of Maury county

for the murder of a negro slave. He pleaded not guilty; and at the

trial was found guilty of wilful and felonious slaying of the slave.

From this sentence he prosecuted his writ of error, which was

disallowed, the court affirming the original judgment. The opinion

of the court, as given by Peck J., overflows with the spirit of

enlightened humanity. He concludes thus:

[Sidenote: 1 Yerger’s Tenn. Rep. 156.]

“‘It is well said by one of the judges of North Carolina, that the

master has a right to exact the labor of his slave; that far, the

rights of the slave are suspended; but this gives the master no

right over the life of his slave. I add to the saying of the judge,

that law which says thou shalt not kill, protects the slave; and he

is within its very letter. Law, reason, Christianity, and common

humanity, all point but one way.’

[Sidenote: 7 Grattan’s Rep. 673.]

“In the General Court of Virginia, June term, 1851, in _Souther v.

the Commonwealth_, it was held that ‘the killing of a slave by his

master and owner, by wilful and excessive whipping, is murder in the

first degree; _though it may not have been the purpose of the master

and owner to kill the slave_.’ The writer shows, also, an ignorance

of the law of contracts, as it affects slavery in the South, in

making George’s master take him from the factory against the

proprietor’s consent. George, by virtue of the contract of hiring,

had become the property of the proprietor for the time being, and

his master could no more have taken him away forcibly than the owner

of a house in Massachusetts can dispossess his lessee, at any

moment, from mere whim or caprice. There is no court in Kentucky

where the hirer’s rights, in this regard, would not be enforced.

“‘No. Father bought her once, in one of his trips to New

Orleans, and brought her up as a present to mother. She was

about eight or nine years old, then. Father would never tell

mother what he gave for her; but, the other day, in looking over

his old papers, we came across the bill of sale. He paid an

extravagant sum for her, to be sure. I suppose, on account of

her extraordinary beauty.’

“George sat with his back to Cassy, and did not see the absorbed

expression of her countenance, as he was giving these details.

“At this point in the story, she touched his arm, and, with a

face perfectly white with interest, said, ‘Do you know the names

of the people he bought her of?’

“‘A man of the name of Simmons, I think, was the principal in

the transaction. At least, I think that was the name in the bill

of sale.’

“‘O, my God!’ said Cassy, and fell insensible on the floor of

the cabin.”

“Of course Eliza turns out to be Cassy’s child, and we are soon

entertained with the family meeting in Montreal, where George Harris

is living, five or six years after the opening of the story, in

great comfort.

“Now, the reader will perhaps be surprised to know that such an

incident as the sale of Cassy apart from Eliza, upon which the whole

interest of the foregoing narrative hinges, never could have taken

place in Louisiana, and that the bill of sale for Eliza would not

have been worth the paper it was written on. Observe. George Shelby

states that Eliza was _eight or nine years old_ at the time his

father purchased her in New Orleans. Let us again look at the

statute-book of Louisiana.

“In the _Code Noir_ we find it set down that

“‘Every person is expressly prohibited from selling separately from

their mothers _the children who shall not have attained the full age

of ten years_.’

“And this humane provision is strengthened by a statute, one clause

of which runs as follows:

“‘Be it further enacted, That if any person or persons shall sell

the mother of any slave child or children _under the age of ten

years, separate from said child or children, or shall, the mother

living, sell any slave child or children of ten years of age, or

under, separate from said mother_, such person or persons shall

incur the penalty of the sixth section of this act.’

“This penalty is a fine of not less than one thousand nor more than

two thousand dollars, and imprisonment in the public jail for a

period of not less than six months nor more than one year.—_Vide

Acts of Louisiana, 1 Session, 9th Legislature_, 1828, 1829, No. 24,

Section 16.”

The author makes here a remark. Scattered through all the Southern

States are slaveholders who are such only in name. They have no pleasure

in the system, they consider it one of wrong altogether, and they hold

the legal relation still, only because not yet clear with regard to the

best way of changing it, so as to better the condition of those held.

Such are most earnest advocates for state emancipation, and are friends

of anything, written in a right spirit, which tends in that direction.

From such the author ever receives criticisms with pleasure.

She has endeavored to lay before the world, in the fullest manner, all

that can be objected to her work, that both sides may have an

opportunity of impartial hearing.

When writing “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” though entirely unaware and

unexpectant of the importance which would be attached to its statements

and opinions, the author of that work was anxious, from love of

consistency, to have some understanding of the laws of the slave system.

She had on hand for reference, while writing, the Code Noir of

Louisiana, and a sketch of the laws relating to slavery in the different

states, by Judge Stroud, of Philadelphia. This work, professing to have

been compiled with great care from the latest editions of the

statute-books of the several states, the author supposed to be a

sufficient guide for the writing of a work of fiction.[3] As the

accuracy of those statements which relate to the slave-laws has been

particularly contested, a more especial inquiry has been made in this

direction. Under the guidance and with the assistance of legal gentlemen

of high standing, the writer has proceeded to examine the statements of

Judge Stroud with regard to statute-law, and to follow them up with some

inquiry into the decisions of courts. The result has been an increasing

conviction on her part that the impressions first derived from Judge

Stroud’s work were correct; and the author now can only give the words

of St. Clare, as the best possible expression of the sentiments and

opinion which this course of reading has awakened in her mind.

This cursed business, accursed of God and man,—what is it? Strip it

of all its ornament, run it down to the root and nucleus of the

whole, and what is it? Why, because my brother Quashy is ignorant

and weak, and I am intelligent and strong,—because I know how, and

_can_ do it,—therefore I may steal all he has, keep it, and give him

only such and so much as suits my fancy! Whatever is too hard, too

dirty, too disagreeable for me, I may set Quashy to doing. Because I

don’t like work, Quashy shall work. Because the sun burns me, Quashy

shall stay in the sun. Quashy shall earn the money, and I will spend

it. Quashy shall lie down in every puddle, that I may walk over dry

shod. Quashy shall do my will, and not his, all the days of his

mortal life, and have such a chance of getting to heaven at last as

I find convenient. This I take to be about what slavery is. I defy

anybody on earth to read our slave-code, as it stands in our

law-books, and make anything else of it. Talk of the _abuses_ of

slavery! Humbug! The _thing itself_ is the essence of all abuse. And

the only reason why the land don’t sink under it, like Sodom and

Gomorrah, is because it is _used_ in a way infinitely better than it

is. For pity’s sake, for shame’s sake, because we are men born of

women, and not savage beasts, many of us do not, and dare not,—we

would _scorn_ to use the full power which our savage laws put into

our hands. And he who goes the furthest, and does the worst, only

uses within limits the power that the law gives him!

The author still holds to the opinion that slavery in itself, as legally

defined in law-books and expressed in the records of courts, _is_ the

SUM AND ESSENCE OF ALL ABUSE; and she still clings to the hope that

there are _many_ men at the South _infinitely_ better than their laws;

and after the reader has read all the extracts which she has to make,

for the sake of a common humanity they will hope the same. The author

must state, with regard to some passages which she must quote, that the

language of certain enactments was so incredible that she would not take

it on the authority of any compilation whatever, but copied it with her

own hand from the latest edition of the statute-book where it stood and

still stands.

-----

Footnote 3:

In this connection it may be well to state that the work of Judge

Stroud is now out of print, but that a work of the same character is

in course of preparation by William I. Bowditch, Esq., of Boston,

which will bring the subject out, by the assistance of the latest

editions of statutes, and the most recent decisions of courts.

CHAPTER II.

WHAT IS SLAVERY?

The author will now enter into a consideration of slavery as it stands

revealed in slave law.

[Sidenote: Civil Code, Art. 35.]

[Sidenote: 2 Brev. Dig. 229. Prince’s Digest, 446.]

What is it, according to the definition of law-books and of legal

interpreters? “A slave,” says the law of Louisiana, “is one who is in

the power of a master, to whom he belongs. The master may sell him,

dispose of his person, his industry and his labor; he can do nothing,

possess nothing, nor acquire anything, but what must belong to his

master.” South Carolina says “slaves shall be deemed, sold, taken,

reputed and adjudged in law, to be chattels personal in the hands of

their owners and possessors, and their executors, administrators, and

assigns, TO ALL INTENTS, CONSTRUCTIONS AND PURPOSES WHATSOEVER.” The law

of Georgia is similar.

[Sidenote: Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, 246. State _v._ Mann.]

Let the reader reflect on the extent of the meaning in this last clause.

Judge Ruffin, pronouncing the opinion of the Supreme Court of North

Carolina, says, a slave is “one doomed in his own person, and his

posterity, to live without knowledge, and without the capacity to make

anything his own, and to toil that another may reap the fruits.”

This is what slavery _is_,—this is what it is to be a slave! The

slave-code, then, of the Southern States, is designed to keep millions

of human beings in the condition of chattels personal; to keep them in a

condition in which the master may sell them, dispose of their time,

person and labor; in which they can do nothing, possess nothing, and

acquire nothing, except for the benefit of the master; in which they are

doomed in themselves and in their posterity to live without knowledge,

without the power to make anything their own,—to toil that another may

reap. The laws of the slave-code are designed to work out this problem,

consistently with the peace of the community, and the safety of that

superior race which is constantly to perpetrate this outrage.

From this simple statement of what the laws of slavery are designed to

do,—from a consideration that the class thus to be reduced, and

oppressed, and made the subjects of a perpetual robbery, are _men_ of

like passions with our own, men originally made in the image of God as

much as ourselves, men partakers of that same humanity of which Jesus

Christ is the highest ideal and expression,—when we consider that the

material thus to be acted upon is that fearfully explosive element, the

soul of man; that soul elastic, upspringing, immortal, whose free will

even the Omnipotence of God refuses to coerce,—we may form some idea of

the tremendous force which is necessary to keep this mightiest of

elements in the state of repression which is contemplated in the

definition of slavery.

Of course, the system necessary to consummate and perpetuate such a

work, from age to age, must be a fearfully stringent one; and our

readers will find that it is so. Men who make the laws, and men who

interpret them, may be fully sensible of their terrible severity and

inhumanity; but, if they are going to preserve the THING, they have no

resource but to make the laws, and to execute them faithfully after they

are made. They may say, with the honorable Judge Ruffin, of North

Carolina, when solemnly from the bench announcing this great foundation

principle of slavery, that “THE POWER OF THE MASTER MUST BE ABSOLUTE, TO

RENDER THE SUBMISSION OF THE SLAVE PERFECT,”—they may say, with him, “I

most freely confess my sense of the harshness of this proposition; I

feel it as deeply as any man can; and, as a principle of moral right,

every person in his retirement must repudiate it;”—but they will also be

obliged to add, with him, “But, in the _actual condition_ of things, it

MUST BE SO. * * This discipline belongs to the state of slavery. * * *

It is INHERENT in the relation of master and slave.”

And, like Judge Ruffin, men of honor, men of humanity, men of kindest

and gentlest feelings, are _obliged_ to interpret these severe laws with

inflexible severity. In the perpetual reaction of that awful force of

human passion and human will, which necessarily meets the compressive

power of slavery,—in that seething, boiling tide, never wholly

repressed, which rolls its volcanic stream underneath the whole

frame-work of society so constituted, ready to find vent at the least

rent or fissure or unguarded aperture,—there is a constant necessity

which urges to severity of law and inflexibility of execution. So Judge

Ruffin says, “We cannot allow the _right_ of the matter to be brought

into discussion in the courts of justice. The slave, to remain a slave,

must be made sensible that there is NO APPEAL FROM HIS MASTER.”

Accordingly, we find in the more southern states, where the slave

population is most accumulated, and slave property most necessary and

valuable, and, of course, the determination to abide by the system the

most decided, _there_ the enactments are most severe, and the

interpretation of courts the most inflexible.[4] And, when legal

decisions of a contrary character begin to be made, it would appear that

it is a symptom of leaning towards emancipation. So abhorrent is the

slave-code to every feeling of humanity, that just as soon as there is

any hesitancy in the community about perpetuating the institution of

slavery, judges begin to listen to the voice of their more honorable

nature, and by favorable interpretations to soften its necessary

severities.

Such decisions do not commend themselves to the professional admiration

of legal gentlemen. But in the workings of the slave system, when the

irresponsible power which it guarantees comes to be used by men of the

most brutal nature, cases sometimes arise for trial where the consistent

exposition of the law involves results so loathsome and frightful, that

the judge prefers to be illogical, rather than inhuman. Like a spring

outgushing in the desert, some noble man, now and then, from the fulness

of his own better nature, throws out a legal decision, generously

inconsistent with every principle and precedent of slave jurisprudence,

and we bless God for it. All we wish is that there were more of them,

for then should we hope that the day of redemption was drawing nigh.

The reader is now prepared to enter with us on the proof of this

proposition: That the slave-code is designed _only for the security of

the master, and not with regard to the welfare of the slave_.

This is implied in the whole current of law-making and

law-administration, and is often asserted in distinct form, with a

precision and clearness of legal accuracy which, in a literary point of

view, are quite admirable. Thus, Judge Ruffin, after stating that

considerations restricting the power of the master had often been drawn

from a comparison of slavery with the relation of parent and child,

master and apprentice, tutor and pupil, says distinctly:

The court does not recognize their application. There is no likeness

between the cases. They are in opposition to each other, and there

is an impassable gulf between them. * * * *

[Sidenote: Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, page 246.]

In the one [case], the end in view is the _happiness of the youth_,

born to equal rights with that governor, on whom the duty devolves

of training the young to usefulness, in a station which he is

afterwards to assume among freemen. * * * * With slavery it is far

otherwise. The _end is the profit of the master_, his security and

the public safety.

[Sidenote: Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, p. 239.]

Not only is this principle distinctly asserted in so many words, but it

is more distinctly implied in multitudes of the arguings and reasonings

which are given as grounds of legal decisions. Even such provisions as

seem to be for the benefit of the slave we often find carefully

interpreted so as to show that it is only on account of his property

value to his master that he is thus protected, and not from any

consideration of humanity towards himself. Thus it has been decided that

a master can bring no action for assault and battery on his slave,

_unless the injury be such as to produce a loss of service_.

The spirit in which this question is discussed is worthy of remark. We

give a brief statement of the case, as presented in Wheeler, p. 239.

[Sidenote: Cornfute _v._ Dale, April Term, 1800. 1 Har. & Johns. Rep. 4]

[Sidenote: 2 Lutw. 1481; 20 Viner’s Abr. 454.]

It was an action for assault and battery committed by Dale on one

Cornfute’s slave. It was contended by Cornfute’s counsel that it was not

necessary to _prove loss of service_, in order that the action should be

sustained; that an action might be supported for beating plaintiff’s

_horse_; and that the lord might have an action for the battery of his

villein, which is founded on this principle, that, as the villein could

not support the action, _the injury would be without redress, unless the

lord could_. On the other side it was said that Lord Chief Justice

Raymond had decided that an assault on a horse was no cause of action,

unless accompanied with _a special damage of the animal_, which would

impair his value.

Chief Justice Chase decided that no redress could be obtained in the

case, because the value of the slave had not been impaired, and _without

injury or wrong to the master_ no action could be sustained; and

assigned this among other reasons for it, that there was no reciprocity

in the case, as the master was not liable for assault and battery

committed by his slave, neither could he gain redress for one committed

upon his slave.

Let any reader now imagine what an amount of wanton cruelty and

indignity may be heaped upon a slave man or woman or child without

actually impairing their power to do service to the master, and he will

have a full sense of the cruelty of this decision.

[Sidenote: Tate _v._ O’Neal, 1 Hawks, 418. U. S. Dig. Sup. 2, p. 797, §

121.]

In the same spirit it has been held in North Carolina that patrols

(night watchmen) are not liable to the master for inflicting punishment

on the slave, unless their conduct clearly demonstrates _malice against

the master_.

[Sidenote: State _v._ Maner, 2 Hill’s Rep. 453. Wheeler’s Law of

Slavery, page 243.]

The cool-bloodedness of some of these legal discussions is forcibly

shown by two decisions in Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, p. 243. On the

question whether the criminal offence of assault and battery can be

committed on a slave, there are two decisions of the two States of South

and North Carolina; and it is difficult to say which of these decisions

has the preëminence for cool legal inhumanity. That of South Carolina

reads thus.

Judge O’Neill says:

The criminal offence of assault and battery can not, at common law,

be committed upon the person of a slave. For notwithstanding (for

some purposes) a slave is regarded by law as a _person_, yet

generally he is a mere chattel personal, and his right of personal

protection belongs to his master, who can maintain an action of

trespass for the battery of his slave. There can be therefore no

offence against the state for a _mere beating of a slave

unaccompanied with any circumstances of cruelty_ (!!), or an attempt

to kill and murder. The peace of the state _is not thereby broken_;

for a slave is not generally regarded as legally capable of being

within the peace of the state. He is not a citizen, and is not in

that character entitled to her protection.

[Sidenote: See State _v._ Hale. Wheeler, p. 239. 2 Hawk. N. C. Rep.

582.]

What declaration of the utter indifference of the state to the

sufferings of the slave could be more elegantly cool and clear? But in

North Carolina it appears that the case is argued still more

elaborately.

Chief Justice Taylor thus shows that, after all, there are reasons why

an assault and battery upon the slave may, on the whole, have some such

general connection with the comfort and security of the community, that

it may be construed into a breach of the peace, and should be treated as

an indictable offence.

[Sidenote: 1 Rev. Code 448.]

The instinct of a slave may be, and generally is, tamed into

subservience to his master’s will, and from him he receives

chastisement, whether it be merited or not, with perfect submission;

for he knows the extent of the dominion assumed over him, and that

the law ratifies the claim. But when the same authority is wantonly

usurped by a stranger, nature is disposed to assert her rights, and

to prompt the slave to a resistance, often momentarily successful,

sometimes fatally so. The public peace is thus broken, as much as if

a free man had been beaten; for the party of the aggressor is always

the strongest, and such contests usually terminate by overpowering

the slave, and inflicting on him a severe chastisement, without

regard to the original cause of the conflict. There is,

consequently, as much reason for making such offences indictable as

if a white man had been the victim. A wanton injury committed on a

slave _is a great provocation to the owner, awakens his resentment,

and has a direct tendency to a breach of the peace, by inciting him

to seek immediate vengeance_. If resented in the heat of blood, it

would probably extenuate a homicide to manslaughter, upon the same

principle with the case stated by Lord Hale, that if A riding on the

road, B had whipped his horse out of the track, and then A had

alighted and killed B. These offences are usually committed by men

of dissolute habits, hanging loose upon society, _who, being

repelled from association with well-disposed citizens, take refuge

in the company of colored persons and slaves, whom they deprave by

their example, embolden by their familiarity, and then beat, under

the expectation that a slave dare not resent a blow from a white

man_. If such offences may be committed with impunity, the public

peace will not only be rendered extremely insecure, but _the value

of slave property must be much impaired_, for the offenders can

seldom make any reparation in damages. Nor is it necessary, in any

case, that a person who has received an injury, real or imaginary,

from a slave, should carve out his own justice; _for the law has

made ample and summary provision for the punishment of all trivial

offences committed by slaves, by carrying them before a justice, who

is authorized to pass sentence for their being publicly whipped_.

This provision, while it excludes the necessity of private

vengeance, would seem to forbid its legality, since it effectually

protects all persons from the insolence of slaves, even where their

masters are unwilling to correct them upon complaint being made. The

common law has often been called into efficient operation, for the

punishment of public cruelty inflicted _upon animals_, for needless

and wanton barbarity exercised even by masters upon their slaves,

and for various violations of _decency, morals, and comfort_. Reason

and analogy seem to require that a human being, _although the

subject of property_, should be _so far protected as the public

might be injured through him_.

For all purposes necessary to enforce the obedience of the slave,

and to render him useful as property, the law secures to the master

a complete authority over him, and it will not lightly interfere

with the relation thus established. _It is a more effectual

guarantee of his right of property, when the slave is protected from

wanton abuse from those who have no power over him_; for it cannot

be disputed that a slave is rendered less capable of performing his

master’s service when he finds himself exposed by the law to the

capricious violence of every turbulent man in the community.

If this is not a scrupulous disclaimer of all humane intention in the

decision, as far as the slave is concerned, and an explicit declaration

that he is protected only out of regard to the comfort of the community,

and his property value to his master, it is difficult to see how such a

declaration could be made. After all this cool-blooded course of remark,

it is somewhat curious to come upon the following certainly most

unexpected declaration, which occurs in the very next paragraph:

Mitigated as slavery is by the _humanity of our laws_, the

refinement of manners, and by _public opinion, which revolts at

every instance of cruelty towards_ them, it would be an anomaly in

the system of police which affects them, if the offence stated in

the verdict were not indictable.

The reader will please to notice that this remarkable declaration is

made of the State of North Carolina. We shall have occasion again to

refer to it by and by, when we extract from the statute-book of North

Carolina some specimens of these humane laws.

[Sidenote: Jourdain _v._ Patton, July term, 1818. 5 Martin’s Louis Rep.

615.]

In the same spirit it is decided, under the law of Louisiana, that if an

individual injures another’s slave so as to make him _entirely useless_,

and the owner recovers from him the full value of the slave, the slave

by that act becomes thenceforth the property of the person who injured

him. A decision to this effect is given in Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, p.

249. A woman sued for an injury done to her slave by the slave of the

defendant. The injury was such as to render him entirely useless, his

_only_ eye being put out. The parish court decreed that she should

recover twelve hundred dollars, that the defendant should pay a further

sum of twenty-five dollars a month from the time of the injury; also the

physician’s bill, and two hundred dollars for the sustenance of the

slave during his life, and that he should remain forever in the

possession of his mistress.

The case was appealed. The judge reversed the decision, and delivered

the slave into the possession of the man whose slave had committed the

outrage. In the course of the decision, the judge remarks, with that

calm legal explicitness for which many decisions of this kind are

remarkable, that

The principle of humanity, which would lead us to suppose that the

mistress, whom he had long served, would treat her miserable blind

slave with more kindness than the defendant, to whom the judgment

ought to transfer him, cannot be taken into consideration in

deciding this case.

[Sidenote: Jan. term, 1828. 9 Martin La. Rep. 350.]

Another case, reported in Wheeler’s Law, page 198, the author thus

summarily abridges. It is Dorothee _v._ Coquillon _et al._ A young girl,

by will of her mistress, was to have her freedom at twenty-one; and it

was required by the will that in the mean time she should be educated in

such a manner as to enable her to earn her living when free, her

services in the mean time being bequeathed to the daughter of the

defendant. Her mother (a free woman) entered complaint that no care was

taken of the child’s education, and that she was cruelly treated. The

prayer of the petition was that the child be declared free at

twenty-one, and in the mean time hired out by the sheriff. The suit was

decided against the mother, on this ground,—that she could not sue _for_

her daughter in a case where the daughter could not sue for herself were

she of age,—the object of the suit being _relief from ill-treatment

during the time of her slavery, which a slave cannot sue for_.

[Sidenote: Jan. term, 1827. 4 M’Cord’s Rep. 161. Wheeler’s Law of

Slavery, p. 201.]

Observe, now, the following case of Jennings _v._ Fundeberg. It seems

Jennings brings an action of trespass against Fundeberg for killing his

slave. The case was thus: Fundeberg with others, being out hunting

runaway negroes, surprised them in their camp, and, as the report says,

“_fired his gun towards them_ as they were running away, _to induce them

to stop_.” One of them, being shot through the head, was thus _induced

to stop_,—and the master of the boy brought action for trespass against

the firer for killing his slave.

The decision of the inferior court was as follows:

The court “thought the killing accidental, and that the defendant ought

not to be made answerable as a trespasser.” * * * *

“When one is lawfully interfering with the property of another, and

accidentally destroys it, he is no trespasser, and ought not to be

answerable for the value of the property. In this case, the defendant

was engaged in a lawful and _meritorious_ service, and if he really

fired his gun in the manner stated it was an allowable act.”

The superior judge reversed the decision, on the ground that in dealing

with another person’s property one is responsible for any injury which

he could have avoided by any degree of circumspection. “The firing ...

was _rash_ and _incautious_.”

Does not the whole spirit of this discussion speak for itself?

[Sidenote: Jan. T. 1827. 4 M’Cord’s Rep. 156.]

See also the very next case in Wheeler’s Law. Richardson _v._ Dukes, p.

202.

Trespass for killing the plaintiff’s slave. It appeared the slave

was stealing potatoes from a bank near the defendant’s house. The

defendant fired upon him with a gun loaded with buckshot, and killed

him. The jury found a verdict for plaintiff for one dollar. Motion

for a new trial.

_The Court._ _Nott_ J. held, there must be a new trial; that the

jury ought to have given the plaintiff the value of the slave. That

if the jury were of opinion the slave was of bad character, some

deduction from the usual price ought to be made, but the plaintiff

was certainly entitled to his actual damage for killing his slave.

Where property is in question, the value of the article, as nearly

as it can be ascertained, furnishes a rule from which they are not

at liberty to depart.

[Sidenote: Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, 220.]

It seems that the value of this unfortunate piece of property was

somewhat reduced from the circumstance of his “stealing potatoes.”

Doubtless he had his own best reasons for this; so, at least, we should

infer from the following remark, which occurs in one of the reasonings

of Judge Taylor, of N. Carolina.

“The act of 1786 (Iredell’s Revisal, p. 588) does, in the preamble,

recognize the fact, that many persons, _by cruel treatment to their

slaves, cause_ them to commit crimes for which they are executed.

* * The cruel treatment here alluded to must consist in _withholding

from them the necessaries of life_; and the crimes thus resulting

are such as are calculated to _furnish them with food and raiment_.”

Perhaps “stealing potatoes” in this case was one of the class of crimes

alluded to.

[Sidenote: Witsell _v._ Earnest & Parker. Wheeler, p. 202.]

Again we have the following case:

The defendants went to the plantation of Mrs. Witsell for the

purpose of hunting for runaway negroes; there being many in the

neighborhood, and the place in considerable alarm. As they

approached the house with loaded guns, a negro ran from the house,

or near the house, towards a swamp, when they fired and killed him.

The judge charged the jury, that such circumstances might exist, by

the excitement and alarm of the neighborhood, as to authorize the

killing of a negro without the sanction of a magistrate.

This decision was reversed in the Superior Court, in the following

language:

By the statute of 1740, any white man may apprehend and moderately

correct any slave who may be found out of the plantation at which he

is employed, and if the slave assaults the white person, _he may be

killed_; but a slave who is merely flying away cannot be killed. Nor

can the defendants be justified by common law, IF _we consider the

negro as a person_; for they were not clothed with the authority of

the law to apprehend him as a felon, and without such authority he

could not be killed.

[Sidenote: Wheeler, p. 252. June T., 1820. Walker’s Rep. 83.]

IF _we consider the negro a person_, says the judge; and, from his

decision in the case, he evidently intimates that he has a strong

leaning to this opinion, though it has been contested by so many eminent

legal authorities that he puts forth his sentiment modestly, and in an

hypothetical form. The reader, perhaps, will need to be informed that

the question whether the slave is to be considered a person or a human

being in any respect has been extensively and ably argued on both sides

in legal courts, and it may be a comfort to know that the balance of

legal opinion inclines in favor of the slave. Judge Clarke, of

Mississippi, is quite clear on the point, and argues very ably and

earnestly, though, as he confesses, against very respectable legal

authorities, that the slave _is_ a person,—that he _is_ a reasonable

creature. The reasoning occurs in the case State of Mississippi _v._

Jones, and is worthy of attention as a literary curiosity.

It seems that a case of murder of a slave had been clearly made out and

proved in the lower court, and that judgment was arrested and the case

appealed on the ground whether, in that state, murder could be committed

on a slave. Judge Clarke thus ably and earnestly argues:

The question in this case is, whether murder can be committed on a

slave. Because individuals may have been deprived of many of their

rights by society, it does not follow, that they have been deprived

of all their rights. In some respects, slaves may be considered as

chattels; but in others, they are regarded as men. The law views

them as capable of committing crimes. This can only be upon the

principle, that they are _men_ and rational beings. The Roman law

has been much relied on by the counsel of the defendant. That law

was confined to the Roman empire, giving the power of life and death

over captives in war, as slaves; but it no more extended here, than

the similar power given to parents over the lives of their children.

Much stress has also been laid by the defendant’s counsel on the

case cited from Taylor’s Reports, decided in North Carolina; yet, in

that case, two judges against one were of opinion, that killing a

slave was murder. Judge Hall, who delivered the dissenting opinion

in the above case based his conclusions, as we conceive, upon

erroneous principles, by considering the laws of Rome applicable

here. His inference, also, that a person cannot be condemned

capitally, because he may be liable in a civil action, is not

sustained by reason or authority, but appears to us to be in direct

opposition to both. At a very early period in Virginia, the power of

life over slaves was given by statute; but Tucker observes, that as

soon as these statutes were repealed, it was at once considered by

their courts that the killing of a slave might be murder.

Commonwealth _v._ Dolly Chapman: indictment for maliciously stabbing

a slave, under a statute. It has been determined in Virginia that

slaves are persons. In the constitution of the United States, slaves

are expressly designated as “persons.” In this state the legislature

have considered slaves as reasonable and accountable beings; and it

would be a stigma upon the character of the state, and a reproach to

the administration of justice, if the life of a slave could be taken

with impunity, or if he could be murdered in cold blood, without

subjecting the offender to the highest penalty known to the criminal

jurisprudence of the country. Has the slave no rights, because he is

deprived of his freedom? He is still a human being, and possesses

all those rights of which he is not _deprived by the positive

provisions of the law_; but in vain shall we look for any law passed

by the enlightened and philanthropic legislature of this state,

giving even to the master, much less to a stranger, power over the

life of a slave. Such a statute would be worthy the age of Draco or

Caligula, and would be condemned by the unanimous voice of the

people of this state, where even cruelty to slaves, much [more] the

taking away of life, meets with universal reprobation. By the

provisions of our law, a slave may commit murder, and be punished

with death; why, then, is it not murder to kill a slave? Can a mere

chattel commit murder, and be subject to punishment?

* * * * *

_The right of the master exists not by force of the law of nature or

nations, but by virtue only of the positive law of the state_; and

although that gives to the master the right to command the services

of the slave, requiring the master to feed and clothe the slave from

infancy till death, yet it gives the master no right to take the

life of the slave; and, if the offence be not murder, it is not a

crime, and subjects the offender to no punishment.

The taking away the life of a reasonable creature, under the king’s

peace, with malice aforethought, express or implied, is murder at

common law. Is not a slave a reasonable creature?—is he not a human

being? And the meaning of this phrase, _reasonable creature_, is, a

human being. For the killing a lunatic, an idiot, or even a child

unborn, is murder, as much as the killing a philosopher; and has not

the slave as much reason as a lunatic, an idiot, or an unborn child?

Thus triumphantly, in this nineteenth century of the Christian era and

in the State of Mississippi, has it been made to appear that the slave

is a reasonable creature,—a human being!

What sort of system, what sort of a public sentiment, was that which

made this argument _necessary_?

And let us look at some of the admissions of this argument with regard

to the _nature_ of slavery. According to the judge, it is depriving

human beings of _many of their rights_. Thus he says: “Because

individuals may have been deprived of many of their rights by society,

it does not follow that they have been deprived of _all_ their rights.”

Again, he says of the slave: “He is still a human being, and possesses

all those _rights_ of which he is not deprived by the _positive

provisions of the law_.” Here he admits that the provisions of law

deprive the slave of natural _rights_. Again he says: “The right of the

master exists not by force of the law of nature or of nations, but by

virtue only of the positive law of the state.” According to the decision

of this judge, therefore, slavery exists by the same right that robbery

or oppression of any kind does,—the right of _ability_. A gang of

robbers associated into a society have rights over all the neighboring

property that they can acquire, of precisely the same kind.

With the same unconscious serenity does the law apply that principle of

force and robbery which is the essence of slavery, and show how far the

master may proceed in appropriating another human being as his property.

[Sidenote: Wheeler, p. 28. Banks, Adm’r, _v._ Marksbury. Spring T. 1823.

3 Little’s Rep. 275.]

The question arises, May a master give a woman to one person, and her

_unborn children_ to another one? Let us hear the case argued. The

unfortunate mother selected as the test point of this interesting legal

principle comes to our view in the will of one Samuel Marksbury, under

the style and denomination of “my negro wench Pen.” Said Samuel states

in his will that, for the good will and love he bears to his _own_

children, he gives said negro wench Pen to son Samuel, and all her

future increase to daughter Rachael. When daughter Rachael, therefore,

marries, her husband sets up a claim for this increase,—as it is stated,

quite off-hand, that the “wench had several children.” Here comes a

beautifully interesting case, quite stimulating to legal acumen.

Inferior court decides that Samuel Marksbury could not have given away

unborn children on the strength of the legal maxim, “_Nemo dat quod non

habet_,”—i. e., “Nobody can give what he has not got,”—which certainly

one should think sensible and satisfactory enough. The case, however, is

appealed, and reversed in the superior court; and now let us hear the

reasoning.

The judge acknowledges the force of the maxim above quoted,—says, as one

would think any man might say, that it is quite a correct maxim,—the

only difficulty being that it does not at all apply to the present case.

Let us hear him:

He who is the absolute owner of a _thing_ owns all its faculties for

profit or increase; and he may, no doubt, grant the profits or

increase, as well as the _thing_ itself. Thus, it is every day’s

practice to grant the future rents or profits of real estate; and it

is held that a man may grant the wool of a flock of sheep for years.

See also p. 33, Fanny _v._ Bryant, 4 J. J. Marshall’s Rep., 368. In this

almost precisely the same language is used. If the reader will proceed,

he will find also this principle applied with equal clearness to the

hiring, selling, mortgaging of unborn children; and the perfect legal

nonchalance of these discussions is only comparable to running a

dissecting-knife through the course of all the heart-strings of a living

subject, for the purpose of demonstrating the laws of nervous

contraction.

Judge Stroud, in his sketch of the slave-laws, page 99, lays down for

proof the following assertion: That the penal codes of the slave states

bear much more severely on slaves than on white persons. He introduces

his consideration of this proposition by the following humane and

sensible remarks:

A being, ignorant of letters, unenlightened by religion, and

deriving but little instruction from good example, cannot be

supposed to have right conceptions as to the nature and extent of

moral or political obligations. This remark, with but a slight

qualification, is applicable to the condition of the slave. It has

been just shown that the benefits of education are not conferred

upon him, while his _chance_ of acquiring a knowledge of the

precepts of the gospel is so remote as scarcely to be appreciated.

He may be regarded, therefore as almost without the capacity to

comprehend the force of laws; and, on this account, such as are

designed for his government should be recommended by their

simplicity and mildness.

His condition suggests another motive for tenderness on his behalf

in these particulars. _He is unable to read_, and holding little or

no communication with those who are better informed than himself;

how is he to become acquainted with the fact that a law for his

observance has been made? To exact obedience to a law which has not

been promulgated,—which is unknown to the subject of it,—has ever

been deemed most unjust and tyrannical. The reign of Caligula, were

it obnoxious to no other reproach than this, would never cease to be

remembered with abhorrence.

The lawgivers of the slaveholding states seem, in the formation of

their penal codes, to have been uninfluenced by these claims of the

slave upon their compassionate consideration. The _hardened convict_

moves their sympathy, and is to be _taught_ the laws _before_ he is

expected to obey them; yet the _guiltless slave_ is subjected to an

extensive system of cruel enactments, of no part of which, probably,

has he ever heard.

Parts of this system apply to the slave exclusively, and for every

infraction a large retribution is demanded; while, with respect to

offences for which whites as well as slaves are amenable,

_punishments of much greater severity are inflicted upon the latter_

than upon the former.

This heavy charge of Judge Stroud is sustained by twenty pages of proof,

showing the very great disproportion between the number of offences made

capital for slaves, and those that are so for whites. Concerning this,

we find the following cool remark in Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, page 222,

note.

Much has been said of the disparity of punishment between the white

inhabitants and the slaves and negroes of the same state; that

slaves are punished with much more severity, for the commission of

similar crimes, by white persons, than the latter. The charge is

undoubtedly true to a considerable extent. It must be remembered

that the primary object of the enactment of penal laws, is the

protection and security of those who make them. The slave has no

agency in making them. He is indeed one cause of the apprehended

evils to the other class, which those laws are expected to remedy.

That he should be held amenable for a violation of those rules

established for the security of the other, is the natural result of

the state in which he is placed. And the severity of those rules

will always bear a relation to that danger, real or ideal, of the

other class.

It has been so among all nations, and will ever continue to be so,

while the disparity between bond and free remains.

[Sidenote: The State _v._ Mann. Dec. Term, 1829. 2 Devereaux’s North

Carolina Rep. 265.]

A striking example of a legal decision to this purport is given in

Wheeler’s Law of Slavery, page 224. The case, apart from legal

technicalities, may be thus briefly stated:

The defendant, Mann, had hired a slave-woman for a year. During this

time the slave committed some slight offence, for which the defendant

undertook to chastise her. While in the act of doing so the slave ran

off, whereat he shot at and wounded her. The judge in the inferior court

charged the jury that if they believed the punishment was cruel and

unwarrantable, and disproportioned to the offence, in law the defendant

was guilty, _as he had only a special property in the slave_. The jury

finding evidence that the punishment _had_ been cruel, unwarrantable and

_disproportioned to the offence_, found verdict against the defendant.

But on what ground?—Because, according to the law of North Carolina,

cruel, unwarrantable, disproportionate punishment of a slave from a

master, is an indictable offence? No. They decided against the

defendant, not because the punishment was cruel and unwarrantable, but

because _he_ was not the person who had the right to inflict it, “as he

had only a SPECIAL _right of property in the slave_.”

The defendant appealed to a higher court, and the decision was reversed,

on the ground that the hirer has for the time being all the rights of

the master. The remarks of Judge Ruffin are so characteristic, and so

strongly express the conflict between the feelings of the humane judge

and the logical necessity of a strict interpreter of slave-law, that we

shall quote largely from it. One cannot but admire the unflinching

calmness with which a man, evidently possessed of honorable and humane

feelings, walks through the most extreme and terrible results and

conclusions, in obedience to the laws of legal truth. Thus he says:

A judge cannot but lament, when such cases as the present are

brought into judgment. It is impossible that the reasons on which

they go can be appreciated, but where institutions similar to our

own exist, and are _thoroughly understood_. The struggle, too, in

the judge’s own breast, between the feelings of the man and the duty

of the magistrate, is a severe one, presenting strong temptation to

put aside such questions, if it be possible. It is useless, however,

to complain of things inherent in our political state. And it is

criminal in a court to avoid any responsibility which the laws

impose. With whatever reluctance, therefore, it is done, the court

is compelled to express an opinion upon the extent of the dominion

of the master over the slave in North Carolina. The indictment

charges a battery on Lydia, a slave of Elizabeth Jones.... The

inquiry here is, whether a cruel and unreasonable battery on a slave

by the hirer is indictable. The judge below instructed the jury that

it is. He seems to have put it on the ground, that the defendant had

but a special property. Our laws uniformly treat the master, or

other person having the possession and command of the slave, as

entitled to the same extent of authority. _The object is the same,

the service of the slave_; and the same powers must be confided. In

a criminal proceeding, and, indeed, in reference to all other

persons but the general owner, the hirer and possessor of the slave,

in relation to both rights and duties, is, for the time being, the

owner.... But, upon the general question, whether the owner is

answerable _criminaliter_, for a battery upon his own slave, or

other exercise of authority of force, not forbidden by statute, the

court entertains but little doubt. That he is so liable, has never

been decided; nor, as far as is known, been hitherto contended.

There has been no prosecution of the sort. The established habits

and uniform practice of the country, in this respect, is the best

evidence of the portion of power deemed by the whole community

requisite to the preservation of the master’s dominion. If we

thought differently, we could not set our notions in array against

the judgment of everybody else, and say that this or that authority

may be safely lopped off. This has indeed been assimilated at the

bar to the other domestic relations; and arguments drawn from the

well-established principles, which _confer_ and _restrain_ the

authority of the parent over the child, the tutor over the pupil,

the master over the apprentice, have been pressed on us.

The court does not recognize their application. There is no likeness

between the cases. They are in opposition to each other, and there

is an impassable gulf between them. The difference is that which

exists between freedom and slavery; and a greater cannot be

imagined. In the one, the end in view is the happiness of the youth

born to equal rights with that governor on whom the duty devolves of

training the young to usefulness, in a station which he is

afterwards to assume among freemen. To such an end, and with such a

subject, moral and intellectual instruction seem the natural means;

and, for the most part, they are found to suffice. Moderate force is

superadded only to make the others effectual. If that fail, it is

better to leave the party to his own headstrong passions, and the

ultimate correction of the law, than to allow it to be immoderately

inflicted by a private person. With slavery it is far otherwise. The

end is the profit of the master, his security and the public safety;

the subject, one doomed, in his own person and his posterity, to

live without knowledge, and without the capacity to make anything

his own, and to toil that another may reap the fruits. What moral

considerations shall be addressed to such a being, to convince him

what it is impossible but that the most stupid must feel and know

can never be true,—that he is thus to labor upon a principle of

natural duty, or for the sake of his own personal happiness? Such

services can only be expected from one who has no will of his own;

who surrenders his will in implicit obedience to that of another.

Such obedience is the consequence only of uncontrolled authority

over the body. There is nothing else which can operate to produce

the effect. THE POWER OF THE MASTER MUST BE ABSOLUTE, TO RENDER THE

SUBMISSION OF THE SLAVE PERFECT. I most freely confess my sense of

the harshness of this proposition. I feel it as deeply as any man

can. And, as a principle of moral right, every person in his

retirement must repudiate it. But, in the actual condition of

things, it must be so. There is no remedy. This discipline belongs

to the state of slavery. They cannot be disunited without abrogating

at once the rights of the master, and absolving the slave from his

subjection. It constitutes the curse of slavery to both the bond and

the free portions of our population. But it is _inherent in the

relation_ of master and slave. That there may be particular

instances of cruelty and deliberate barbarity, where in conscience

the law might properly interfere, is most probable. The difficulty

is to determine where _a court_ may properly begin. Merely in the

abstract, it may well be asked which power of the master accords

with right. The answer will probably sweep away all of them. But we

cannot look at the matter in that light. The truth is that we are

forbidden to enter upon a train of general reasoning on the subject.

We cannot allow the right of the master to be brought into

discussion in the courts of justice. The slave, to remain a slave,

must be made sensible that there is no appeal from his master; that

his power is, in no instance, usurped, but is conferred by the laws

of man, at least, if not by the law of God. The danger would be

great, indeed, if the tribunals of justice should be called on to

graduate the punishment appropriate to every temper and every

dereliction of menial duty.

No man can anticipate the many and aggravated provocations of the

master which the slave would be constantly stimulated by his own

passions, or the instigation of others, to give; or the consequent

wrath of the master, prompting him to bloody vengeance upon the

turbulent traitor; a vengeance _generally practised with impunity,

by reason of its privacy_. The court, therefore, disclaims the power

of changing the relation in which these parts of our people stand to

each other.

* * * * *

I repeat, that I would gladly have avoided this ungrateful question.

But, being brought to it, the court is compelled to declare that

while slavery exists amongst us in its present state, or until it

shall seem fit to the legislature to interpose express enactments to

the contrary, it will be the imperative _duty_ of the judges _to

recognize the full dominion of the owner over the slave_, except

where the exercise of it is forbidden by statute.

And this we do upon the ground that _this dominion is essential to

the value of slaves as property, to the security of the master and

the public tranquility, greatly dependent upon their subordination_;

and, in fine, as most effectually securing the general protection

and comfort of the slaves themselves. Judgment below reversed; and

judgment entered for the defendant.

No one can read this decision, so fine and clear in expression, so

dignified and solemn in its earnestness, and so dreadful in its results,

without feeling at once deep respect for the man and horror for the

system. The man, judging him from this short specimen, which is all the

author knows,[5] has one of that high order of minds, which looks

straight through all verbiage and sophistry to the heart of every

subject which it encounters. He has, too, that noble scorn of

dissimulation, that straight-forward determination not to call a bad

thing by a good name, even when most popular and reputable and legal,

which it is to be wished could be more frequently seen, both in our

Northern and Southern States. There is but one sole regret; and that is

that such a man, with such a mind, should have been merely an

_expositor_, and not a _reformer_ of law.

-----

Footnote 4:

We except the State of Louisiana. Owing to the influence of the French

code in that state, more really humane provisions prevail there. How

much these provisions avail in point of fact, will be shown when we

come to that part of the subject.

Footnote 5:

More recently the author has met with a passage in a North Carolina

newspaper, containing some further particulars of the life of Judge

Ruffin, which have proved interesting to her, and may also to the

reader.

_From the Raleigh_ (_N. C._) _Register._

RESIGNATION OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA.

We publish below the letter of Chief Justice Ruffin, of the Supreme

Court, resigning his seat on the bench.

This act takes us, and no less will it take the state, by surprise.

The public are not prepared for it; and we doubt not there will

scarcely be an exception to the deep and general regret which will be

felt throughout the state. Judge Ruffin’s great and unsurpassed legal

learning, his untiring industry, the ease with which he mastered the

details and comprehended the whole of the most complicated cases, were

the admiration of the bar; and it has been a common saying of the

ablest lawyers of the state, for a long time past, that his place on

the bench could be supplied by no other than himself.

He is now, as we learn, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, in full

possession of his usual excellent health, unaffected, so far as we can

discover, in his natural vigor and strength, and certainly without any

symptom of mental decay. Forty-five years ago he commenced the

practice of the law. He has been on the bench twenty-eight years, of

which time he has been one of the Supreme Court twenty-three years.

During this long public career he has, in a pecuniary point of view,

sacrificed many thousands; for there has been no time of it in which

he might not, with perfect ease, have doubled, by practice, the amount

of his salary as judge.

“_To the Honorable the General Assembly of North Carolina, now in

session._

“Gentlemen: I desire to retire to the walks of private life, and

therefore pray your honorable body to accept the resignation of my

place on the bench of the Supreme Court. In surrendering this trust, I

would wish to express my grateful sense of the confidence and honors

so often and so long bestowed on me by the General Assembly. But I

have no language to do it suitably. I am very sensible that they were

far beyond my deserts, and that I have made an insufficient return of

the service. Yet I can truly aver that, to the best of my ability, I

have administered the law as I understood it, and to the ends of

suppressing crime and wrong, and upholding virtue, truth and right;

aiming to give confidence to honest men, and to confirm in all good

citizens love for our country, and a pure trust in her law and

magistrates.

“In my place I hope I have contributed to these ends; and I firmly

believe that our laws will, as heretofore, be executed, and our people

happy in the administration of justice, honest and contented, as long

as they keep, and only so long as they keep, the independent and sound

judiciary now established in the constitution; which, with all other

blessings, I earnestly pray may be perpetuated to the people of North

Carolina.

“I have the honor to be, gentlemen, your most obliged and obedient

servant,

THOMAS RUFFIN.

“_Raleigh, November 10, 1852._”

CHAPTER III.

SOUTHER _v._ THE COMMONWEALTH—THE NE PLUS ULTRA OF LEGAL HUMANITY.

“Yet in the face of _such_ laws and decisions as _these_! Mrs. Stowe,

&c.”—_Courier & Enquirer_.

The case of Souther _v._ the Commonwealth has been cited by the _Courier

& Enquirer_ as a particularly favorable specimen of judicial proceedings

under the slave-code, with the following remark:

And yet, in the face of such laws and decisions as these, Mrs. Stowe

winds up a long series of cruelties upon her other black personages,

by causing her faultless hero, Tom, to be literally whipped to death

in Louisiana, by his master, Legree; and these acts, which the laws

make criminal, and punish as such, she sets forth in the most

repulsive colors, to illustrate the institution of slavery!

By the above language the author was led into the supposition that this

case had been conducted in a manner so creditable to the feelings of our

common humanity as to present a fairer side of criminal jurisprudence in

this respect. She accordingly took the pains to procure a report of the

case, designing to publish it as an offset to the many barbarities which

research into this branch of the subject obliges one to unfold. A legal

gentleman has copied the case from Grattan’s Reports, and it is here

given. If the reader is astounded at it, he cannot be more so than was

the writer.

_Souther v. The Commonwealth. 7 Grattan, 673, 1851._

The killing of a slave by his master and owner, by wilful and

excessive whipping, is murder in the first degree: though it

may not have been the purpose and intention of the master and

owner to kill the slave.

Simeon Souther was indicted at the October Term, 1850, of the

Circuit Court for the County of Hanover, for the murder of his own

slave. The indictment contained fifteen counts, in which the various

modes of punishment and torture by which the homicide was charged to

have been committed were stated singly, and in various combinations.

The fifteenth count unites them all: and, as the court certifies

that the _indictment was sustained by the evidence_, the giving the

facts stated in that count will show what was the charge against the

prisoner, and what was the proof to sustain it.

The count charged that on the 1st day of September, 1849, the

prisoner tied his negro slave, Sam, with ropes about his wrists,

neck, body, legs and ankles, to a tree. That whilst so tied, the

prisoner first whipped the slave with switches. That he next beat

and cobbed the slave with a shingle, and compelled two of his

slaves, a man and a woman, also to cob the deceased with the

shingle. That whilst the deceased was so tied to the tree, the

prisoner did strike, knock, kick, stamp and beat him upon various

parts of his head, face and body; that he applied fire to his body;

* * * * that he then washed his body with warm water, in which pods

of red pepper had been put and steeped; and he compelled his two

slaves aforesaid also to wash him with this same preparation of warm

water and red pepper. That after the tying, whipping, cobbing,

striking, beating, knocking, kicking, stamping, wounding, bruising,

lacerating, burning, washing and torturing, as aforesaid, the

prisoner untied the deceased from the tree in such way as to throw

him with violence to the ground; and he then and there did knock,

kick, stamp and beat the deceased upon his head, temples, and

various parts of his body. That the prisoner then had the deceased

carried into a shed-room of his house, and there he compelled one of

his slaves, in his presence, to confine the deceased’s feet in

stocks, by making his legs fast to a piece of timber, and to tie a

rope about the neck of the deceased, and fasten it to a bed-post in

the room, thereby strangling, choking and suffocating the deceased.

And that whilst the deceased was thus made fast in stocks as

aforesaid, the prisoner did kick, knock, stamp and beat him upon his

head, face, breast, belly, sides, back and body; and he again

compelled his two slaves to apply fire to the body of the deceased,

whilst he was so made fast as aforesaid. And the count charged that

from these various modes of punishment and torture the slave Sam

then and there died. It appeared that the prisoner commenced the

punishment of the deceased in the morning, and that it was continued

throughout the day: and that the deceased died in the presence of

the prisoner, and one of his slaves, and one of the witnesses,

whilst the punishment was still progressing.

Field J. delivered the opinion of the court.

The prisoner was indicted and convicted of _murder in the second

degree_, in the Circuit Court of Hanover, at its April term last

past, and was sentenced to the _penitentiary for five years_, the

period of time ascertained by the jury. The murder consisted in the

killing of a negro man-slave by the name of Sam, the property of the

prisoner, by cruel and excessive whipping and torture, inflicted by

Souther, aided by two of his other slaves, on the 1st day of

September, 1849. The prisoner moved for a new trial, upon the ground

that the offence, _if any_, amounted only to manslaughter. The

motion for a new trial was overruled, and a bill of exceptions taken

to the opinion of the court, setting forth the facts proved, or as

many of them as were deemed material for the consideration of the

application for a new trial. The bill of exception states: That the

slave Sam, in the indictment mentioned, was the slave and property

of the prisoner. That for the purpose of chastising the slave for

the offence of getting drunk, and dealing as the slave confessed and

alleged with Henry and Stone, two of the witnesses for the

Commonwealth, he caused him to be tied and punished in the presence

of the said witnesses, with the exception of slight whipping with

peach or apple-tree switches, before the said witnesses arrived at

the scene after they were sent for by the prisoner (who were present

by request from the defendant), and of several slaves of the

prisoner, in the manner and by the means charged in the indictment;

and the said slave died under and from the infliction of the said

punishment, in the presence of the prisoner, one of his slaves, and

of one of the witnesses for the Commonwealth. But it did not appear

that it was the design of the prisoner to kill the said slave,

unless such design be properly inferable from the manner, means and

duration of the punishment. And, on the contrary, it did appear that

the prisoner frequently declared, while the said slave was

undergoing the punishment, that he believed the said slave was

feigning, and pretending to be suffering and injured when he was

not. The judge certifies that the slave was punished in the _manner

and by the means charged in the indictment_. The indictment contains

fifteen counts, and sets forth a case of the most cruel and

excessive whipping and torture.[6]

* * * * *

It is believed that the records of criminal jurisprudence do not

contain a case of more atrocious and wicked cruelty than was

presented upon the trial of Souther; and yet it has been gravely and

earnestly contended here by his counsel that his offence amounts to

manslaughter only.

It has been contended by the counsel of the prisoner that a man

cannot be indicted and prosecuted for the cruel and excessive

whipping of his own slave. That it is lawful for the master to

chastise his slave, and that if death ensues from such chastisement,

unless it was intended to produce death, it is like the case of

homicide which is committed by a man in the performance of a lawful

act, which is manslaughter only. It has been decided by this court

in Turner’s case, 5 Rand, that the owner of a slave, for the

malicious, cruel and excessive beating of his own slave, cannot be

indicted; yet it by no means follows, when such malicious, cruel and

excessive beating results in death, though not intended and

premeditated, that the beating is to be regarded as lawful for the

purpose of reducing the crime to manslaughter, when the whipping is

inflicted for the sole purpose of chastisement. _It is the policy of

the law, in respect to the relation of master and slave, and for the

sake of securing proper subordination and obedience on the part of

the slave, to protect the master from prosecution in all such cases,

even if the whipping and punishment be malicious, cruel and

excessive._ But in so inflicting punishment for the sake of

punishment, the owner of the slave acts at his peril; and if death

ensues in consequence of such punishment, the relation of master and

slave affords no ground of excuse or palliation. The principles of

the common law, in relation to homicide, apply to his case without

qualification or exception; and according to those principles, the

act of the prisoner, in the case under consideration, amounted to

murder. * * * The crime of the prisoner is not manslaughter, but

murder in the first degree.

On the case now presented there are some remarks to be made.

This scene of torture, it seems, occupied about twelve hours. It

occurred in the State of Virginia, in the County of Hanover. Two white

men were witnesses to nearly the whole proceeding, and, so far as we can

see, made no effort to arouse the neighborhood, and bring in help to

stop the outrage. What sort of an education, what habits of thought,

does this presuppose in these men?

The case was brought to trial. It requires no ordinary nerve to read

over the counts of this indictment. Nobody, one would suppose, could

willingly read them twice. One would think that it would have laid a

cold hand of horror on every heart;—that the community would have risen,

by an universal sentiment, to shake out the man, as Paul shook the viper

from his hand. It seems, however, that they were quite self-possessed;

that lawyers calmly sat, and examined, and cross-examined, on

particulars known before only in the records of the Inquisition; that it

was “ably and earnestly argued” by educated, intelligent, American men,

that this catalogue of horrors did not amount to a murder! and, in the

cool language of legal precision, that “the offence, IF ANY, amounted to

manslaughter;” and that an American jury found that the offence was

murder _in the second degree_. Any one who reads the indictment will

certainly think that, if this be murder in the _second degree_, in

Virginia, one might earnestly pray to be murdered in the first degree,

to begin with. Had Souther walked up to the man, and shot him through

the head with a pistol, before white witnesses, _that_ would have been

murder in the _first_ degree. As he preferred to spend _twelve hours_ in

killing him by torture, under the name of “_chastisement_,” that, says

the verdict, is murder in the second degree; “_because_,” says the bill

of exceptions, with admirable coolness, “_it did not appear that it was

the design of the prisoner to kill the slave_, UNLESS SUCH DESIGN BE

PROPERLY INFERABLE FROM THE MANNER, MEANS AND DURATION, OF THE

PUNISHMENT.”

The bill evidently seems to have a leaning to the idea that twelve hours

spent in beating, stamping, scalding, burning and mutilating a human

being, might possibly be considered as presumption of something beyond

the limits of lawful chastisement. So startling an opinion, however, is

expressed cautiously, and with a becoming diffidence, and is balanced by

the very striking fact, which is also quoted in this remarkable paper,

that the prisoner frequently declared, while the slave was undergoing

the punishment, that he believed the slave was feigning and pretending

to be suffering, when he was not. This view appears to have struck the

court as eminently probable,—as going a long way to prove the propriety

of Souther’s intentions, making it at least extremely probable that only

_correction_ was intended.

It seems, also, that Souther, so far from being crushed by the united

opinion of the community, found those to back him who considered five

years in the penitentiary an unjust severity for his crime, and hence

the bill of exceptions from which we have quoted, and the appeal to the

Superior Court; and hence the form in which the case stands in

law-books, “_Souther v. the Commonwealth_.” Souther evidently considers

himself an ill-used man, and it is in this character that he appears

before the Superior Court.

As yet there has been no particular overflow of humanity in the

treatment of the case. The manner in which it has been discussed so far

reminds one of nothing so much as of some discussions which the reader

may have seen quoted from the records of the Inquisition, with regard to

the propriety of roasting the feet of children who have not arrived at

the age of thirteen years, with a view to eliciting evidence.

Let us now come to the decision of the Superior Court, which the editor

of the _Courier & Enquirer_ thinks so particularly enlightened and

humane. Judge Field thinks that the case is a very atrocious one, and in

this respect he seems to differ materially from judge, jury and lawyers,

of the court below. Furthermore, he doubts whether the annals of

jurisprudence furnish a case of equal atrocity, wherein certainly he

appears to be not far wrong; and he also states unequivocally the

principle that killing a slave by torture under the name of correction

is murder in the first degree; and here too, certainly, everybody will

think that he is also right: the only wonder being that any man could

ever have been called to express such an opinion, judicially. But he

states, quite as unequivocally as Judge Ruffin, that awful principle of

slave-laws, that the law cannot interfere with the master for any amount

of torture inflicted on his slave which does not result in death. The

decision, if it establishes anything, establishes this principle quite

as strongly as it does the other. Let us hear the words of the decision:

It has been decided by this court, in Turner’s case, that _the owner

of a slave, for the malicious, cruel and excessive beating of his

own slave, cannot be indicted. * * * * * * It is the policy of the

law, in respect to the relation of master and slave, and for the

sake of securing proper subordination and obedience on the part of

the slave, to protect the master from prosecution in all such cases,

even if the whipping and punishment be malicious, cruel and

excessive._

What follows as a corollary from this remarkable declaration is

this,—that if the victim of this twelve hours’ torture had only

possessed a little stronger constitution, and had not actually died

under it, there is no law in Virginia by which Souther could even have

been indicted for misdemeanor.

If this is not filling out the measure of the language of St. Clare,

that “he who goes the furthest and does the worst only uses within

limits the power which the law gives him,” how could this language be

verified? Which is “_the worst_,” death outright, or torture

indefinitely prolonged? This decision, in so many words, gives every

master the power of indefinite torture, and takes from him only the

power of terminating the agony by merciful death. And this is the

judicial decision which the _Courier & Enquirer_ cites as a perfectly

convincing specimen of legal humanity. It must be hoped that the editor

never read the decision, else he never would have cited it. Of all who

knock at the charnel-house of legal precedents, with the hope of

disinterring any evidence of humanity in the slave system, it may be

said, in the awful words of the Hebrew poet:

“He knoweth not that the dead are there,

And that her guests are in the depths of hell.”

The upshot of this case was, that Souther, instead of getting off from

his five years’ imprisonment, got simply a judicial _opinion_ from the

Superior Court that he ought to be hung; but he could not be tried over

again, and, as we may infer from all the facts in the case that he was a

man of tolerably resolute nerves and not very exquisite sensibility, it

is not likely that the _opinion_ gave him any very serious uneasiness.

He has probably made up his mind to get over his five years with what

grace he may. When he comes out, there is no law in Virginia to prevent

his buying as many more negroes as he chooses, and going over the same

scene with any one of them at a future time, if only he profit by the

information which has been so explicitly conveyed to him in this

decision, that he must take care and stop his tortures short of the

point of death,—a matter about which, as the history of the Inquisition

shows, men, by careful practice, can be able to judge with considerable

precision. Probably, also, the next time, he will not be so foolish as

to send out and request the attendance of two white witnesses, even

though they may be so complacently interested in the proceedings as to

spend the whole day in witnessing them without effort at prevention.

Slavery, as defined in American law, is no more capable of being

regulated in its administration by principles of humanity, than the

torture system of the Inquisition. Every act of humanity of every

individual owner is an illogical result from the legal definition; and

the reason why the slave-code of America is more atrocious than any ever

before exhibited under the sun, is that the Anglo-Saxon race are a more

coldly and strictly logical race, and have an unflinching courage to

meet the consequences of every premise which they lay down, and to work

out an accursed principle, with mathematical accuracy, to its most

accursed results. The decisions in American law-books show nothing so

much as this severe, unflinching accuracy of logic. It is often and

evidently, not because judges are inhuman or partial, but because they

are logical and truthful, that they announce from the bench, in the

calmest manner, decisions which one would think might make the earth

shudder, and the sun turn pale.

The French and the Spanish nations are, by constitution, more impulsive,

passionate and poetic, than logical; hence it will be found that while

there may be more instances of individual barbarity, as might be

expected among impulsive and passionate people, there is in their

slave-code more exhibition of humanity. The code of the State of

Louisiana contains more really humane provisions, were there any means

of enforcing them, than that of any other state in the Union.

It is believed that there is no code of laws in the world which contains

such a perfect cabinet crystallization of every tear and every drop of

blood which can be wrung from humanity, so accurately, elegantly and

scientifically arranged, as the slave-code of America. It is a case of

elegant surgical instruments for the work of dissecting the living human

heart;—every instrument wrought with exactest temper and polish, and

adapted with exquisite care, and labelled with the name of the nerve or

artery or muscle which it is designed to sever. The instruments of the

anatomist are instruments of earthly steel and wood, designed to operate

at most on perishable and corruptible matter; but these are instruments

of keener temper, and more ethereal workmanship, designed in the most

precise and scientific manner to DESTROY THE IMMORTAL SOUL, and

carefully and gradually to reduce man from the high position of a free

agent, a social, religious, accountable being, down to the condition of

the brute, or of inanimate matter.

-----

Footnote 6:

The following is Judge Field’s statement of the punishment:

The negro was tied to a tree and whipped with switches. When Souther

became fatigued with the labor of whipping, he called upon a negro man

of his, and made him cob Sam with a shingle. He also made a negro

woman of his help to cob him. And, after cobbing and whipping, he

applied fire to the body of the slave. * * * * He then caused him to

be washed down with hot water, in which pods of red pepper had been

steeped. The negro was also tied to a log and to the bed-post with

ropes, which choked him, and he was kicked and stamped by Souther.

This sort of punishment was continued and repeated until the negro

died under its infliction.

CHAPTER IV.

PROTECTIVE STATUTES.

Apprentices protected.—Outlawry.—Melodrama of Prue in the

Swamp.—Harry the Carpenter, a Romance of Real Life.

But the question now occurs, Are there not protective statutes, the

avowed object of which is the protection of the life and limb of the

slave? We answer, there are; and these protective statutes are some of

the most remarkable pieces of legislation extant.

That they were dictated by a spirit of humanity, charity, which hopeth

_all_ things, would lead us to hope; but no newspaper stories of bloody

murders and shocking outrages convey to the mind so dreadful a picture

of the numbness of public sentiment caused by slavery as these so-called

protective statutes. The author copies the following from the statutes

of North Carolina. Section 3d of the act passed in 1798 runs thus:

Whereas by another Act of the Assembly, passed in 1774, the killing

of a slave, however wanton, cruel and deliberate, is only punishable

in the first instance by imprisonment and paying the value thereof

to the owner, which _distinction of criminality between the murder

of a white person and one who is equally a human creature, but

merely of a different complexion, is_ DISGRACEFUL TO HUMANITY, AND

DEGRADING IN THE HIGHEST DEGREE TO THE LAWS AND PRINCIPLES OF A

FREE, CHRISTIAN AND ENLIGHTENED COUNTRY, Be it enacted, &c., That if

any person shall hereafter be guilty of wilfully and maliciously

killing a slave, such offender shall, upon the first conviction

thereof, be adjudged guilty of murder, and shall suffer the same

punishment as if he had killed a free man: “_Provided always, this

act shall not extend to the person killing a slave_ OUTLAWED BY

VIRTUE OF ANY ACT OF ASSEMBLY OF THIS STATE, _or to any slave in the

act of resistance to his lawful owner or master, or to any slave

dying under moderate correction_.”

A law with a like proviso, except the outlawry clause, exists in

Tennessee. _See Caruthers and Nicholson’s Compilation_, 1836, p. 676.

The language of the constitution of Georgia, art. iv., sec. 12, is as

follows:

Any person who shall maliciously dismember or deprive a slave of

life shall suffer such punishment as would be inflicted in case the

like offence had been committed on a free white person, and on the

like proof, except in case of insurrection by such slave, and

_unless such death should_ happen _by accident in giving such slave

moderate correction_.—_Cobb’s Dig._ 1851, p. 1125.

Let now any Englishman or New Englander imagine that such laws with

regard to apprentices had ever been proposed in Parliament or State

Legislature under the head of _protective acts_;—laws which in so many

words permit the killing of the subject in three cases, and those

comprising all the acts which would generally occur under the law;

namely, if the slave resist, if he be outlawed, or if he die under

_moderate_ correction.

What rule in the world will ever prove correction immoderate, if the

fact that the subject _dies_ under it is not held as proof? How many

such “accidents” would have to happen in Old England or New England,

before Parliament or Legislature would hear from such a protective law.

“But,” some one may ask, “what is the _outlawry_ spoken of in this act?”

The question is pertinent, and must be answered. The author has copied

the following from the Revised Statutes of North Carolina, chap. cxi,

sec. 22. It may be remarked in passing that the preamble to this law

presents rather a new view of slavery to those who have formed their

ideas from certain pictures of blissful contentment and Arcadian repose,

which have been much in vogue of late.

Whereas, MANY TIMES _slaves run away and be out, hid and lurking in

swamps, woods, and other obscure places_, killing cattle and hogs,

and committing other injuries to the inhabitants of this state; in

all such cases, upon intelligence of any slave or slaves lying out

as aforesaid, any two justices of the peace for the county wherein

such slave or slaves is or are supposed to lurk or do mischief,

shall, and they are hereby empowered and required to issue

proclamation against such slave or slaves (reciting his or their

names, and the name or names of the owner or owners, if known),

thereby requiring him or them, and every of them, forthwith to

surrender him or themselves; and also to empower and require the

sheriff of the said county to take such power with him as he shall

think fit and necessary for going in search and pursuit of, and

effectually apprehending, such outlying slave or slaves; which

proclamation shall be published at the door of the court-house, and

at such other places as said justices shall direct. And if any slave

or slaves against whom proclamation hath been thus issued stay out,

and do not immediately return home, it shall be lawful for any

person or persons whatsoever to kill and destroy such slave or

slaves by _such ways and means as he shall think fit_, without

accusation or impeachment of any crime for the same.

What ways and means _have been_ thought fit, in actual experience, for

the destruction of the slave? What was done with the negro McIntosh, in

the streets of St. Louis in open daylight, and endorsed at the next

sitting of the Supreme Court of the state, as transcending the sphere of

law, because it was “an act of the majority of her most respectable

citizens”?[7] If these things are done in the green tree, what will be

done in the dry? If these things have once been done in the open streets

of St. Louis, by “a majority of her most respectable citizens,” what

will be done in the lonely swamps of North Carolina, by men of the stamp

of Souther and Legree?

This passage of the Revised Statutes of North Carolina is more terribly

suggestive to the imagination than any particulars into which the author

of Uncle Tom’s Cabin has thought fit to enter. Let us suppose a little

melodrama quite possible to have occurred under this act of the

legislature. Suppose some luckless Prue or Peg, as in the case we have

just quoted, in State _v._ Mann, getting tired of the discipline of

whipping, breaks from the overseer, clears the dogs, and gets into the

swamp, and there “lies out,” as the act above graphically says. The act

which we are considering says that _many_ slaves do this, and doubtless

they have their own best reasons for it. We all know what fascinating

places to “lie out” in these Southern swamps are. What with alligators

and moccasin snakes, mud and water, and poisonous vines, one would be

apt to think the situation not particularly eligible; but still, Prue

“lies out” there. Perhaps in the night some husband or brother goes to

see her, taking a hog, or some animal of the plantation stock, which he

has ventured his life in killing, that she may not perish with hunger.

Master overseer walks up to master proprietor, and reports the accident;

master proprietor mounts his horse, and assembles to his aid two

justices of the peace.

In the intervals between drinking brandy and smoking cigars a

proclamation is duly drawn up, summoning the contumacious Prue to

surrender, and requiring sheriff of said county to take such power as he

shall think fit to go in search and pursuit of said slave; which

proclamation, for Prue’s further enlightenment, is solemnly published at

the door of the court-house, and “at such other places as said justices

shall direct.”[8] Let us suppose, now, that Prue, given over to hardness

of heart and blindness of mind, pays no attention to all these means of

grace, put forth to draw her to the protective shadow of the patriarchal

roof. Suppose, further, as a final effort of long-suffering, and to

leave her utterly without excuse, the worthy magistrate rides forth in

full force,—man, horse, dog and gun,—to the very verge of the swamp, and

there proclaims aloud the merciful mandate. Suppose that, hearing the

yelping of the dogs and the proclamation of the sheriff mingled

together, and the shouts of Loker, Marks, Sambo and Quimbo, and other

such posse, black and white, as a sheriff can generally summon on such a

hunt, this very ignorant and contumacious Prue only runs deeper into the

swamp, and continues obstinately “lying out,” as aforesaid;—now she is

by act of the assembly _outlawed_, and, in the astounding words of the

act, “it shall be lawful for any person or persons whatsoever to kill

and destroy her, by such ways and means as he shall think fit, without

accusation or impeachment of any crime for the same.” What awful

possibilities rise to the imagination under the fearfully suggestive

clause “_by such ways and means as he shall think fit_!” Such ways and

means as ANY man shall think fit, of _any_ character, of _any_ degree of

fiendish barbarity!! Such a permission to kill even a dog, by “any ways

and means which anybody should think fit,” never ought to stand on the

law-books of a Christian nation; and yet this stands against one bearing

that same humanity which Jesus Christ bore,—against one, perhaps, who,

though blinded, darkened and ignorant, he will not be ashamed to own,

when he shall come in the glory of his Father, and all his holy angels

with him!

That this law has not been a dead letter there is sufficient proof. In

1836 the following proclamation and advertisement appeared in the

“Newbern (N. C.) Spectator:”

STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, LENOIR COUNTY.—Whereas complaint hath been

this day made to us, two of the justices of the peace for the said

county, by William D. Cobb, of Jones County, that two negro-slaves

belonging to him, named Ben (commonly known by the name of Ben Fox)

and Rigdon, have absented themselves from their said master’s

service, and are lurking about in the Counties of Lenoir and Jones,

committing acts of felony; these are, in the name of the state, to

command the said slaves forthwith to surrender themselves, and turn

home to their said master. And we do hereby also require the sheriff

of said County of Lenoir to make diligent search and pursuit after

the above-mentioned slaves.... And we do hereby, by virtue of an act

of assembly of this state concerning servants and slaves, intimate

and declare, if the said slaves do not surrender themselves and

return home to their master immediately after the publication of

these presents, that any person may kill or destroy said slaves by

such means as he or they think fit, without accusation or

impeachment of any crime or offence for so doing, or without

incurring any penalty or forfeiture thereby.

Given under our hands and seals, this 12th of November, 1836.

B. COLEMAN, J. P. [Seal.]

JAS. JONES, J. P. [Seal.]

* * * * *

$200 REWARD.—Ran away from the subscriber, about three years ago, a

certain negro-man, named Ben, commonly known by the name of Ben Fox;

also one other negro, by the name of Rigdon, who ran away on the 8th

of this month.

I will give the reward of $100 for each of the above negroes, to be

delivered to me, or confined in the jail of Lenoir or Jones County,

_or for the killing of them, so that I can see them_.

_Nov. 12, 1836._

W. D. COBB.

That this act was _not_ a dead letter, also, was plainly implied in the

protective act first quoted. If slaves were not, as a matter of fact,

ever outlawed, why does the act formally recognize such a

class?—“provided that this act shall not extend to the killing of any

slave _outlawed_ by any act of the assembly.” This language sufficiently

indicates the existence of the custom.

Further than this, the statute-book of 1821 contained two acts: the

first of which provides that all masters in certain counties, who have

had slaves killed in consequence of outlawry, shall have a claim on the

treasury of the state for their value, unless cruel treatment of the

slave be proved on the part of the master: the second act extends the

benefits of the latter provision to all the counties in the state.[9]

Finally, there is evidence that this act of outlawry was executed so

recently as the year 1850,—the year in which “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was

written. See the following from the Wilmington Journal of December 13,

1850:

STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, NEW HANOVER COUNTY.—Whereas complaint upon

oath hath this day been made to us, two of the justices of the peace

for the said state and county aforesaid, by Guilford Horn, of

Edgecombe County, that a certain male slave belonging to him, named

Harry, a carpenter by trade, about forty years old, five feet five

inches high, or thereabouts; yellow complexion; stout built; with a

scar on his left leg (from the cut of an axe); has very thick lips;

eyes deep sunk in his head; forehead very square; tolerably loud

voice; has lost one or two of his upper teeth; and has a very dark

spot on his jaw, supposed to be a mark,—hath absented himself from

his master’s service, and is supposed to be lurking about in this

county, committing acts of felony or other misdeeds; these are,

therefore, in the name of the state aforesaid, to command the said

slave forthwith to surrender himself and return home to his said

master; and we do hereby, by virtue of the act of assembly in such

cases made and provided, intimate and declare that if the said slave

Harry doth not surrender himself and return home immediately after

the publication of these presents, that any person or persons may

KILL and DESTROY the said slave by such means as he or they may

think fit, without accusation or impeachment of any crime or offence

for so doing, and without incurring any penalty or forfeiture

thereby.

Given under our hands and seals, this 29th day of June, 1850.

JAMES T. MILLER, J. P. [Seal.]

W. C. BETTENCOURT, J. P. [Seal.]

* * * * *

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS REWARD will be paid for the

delivery of the said Harry to me at Tosnott Depot, Edgecombe County,

or for his confinement in any jail in the state, so that I can get

him; or _One Hundred and Fifty Dollars will be given for his head_.

He was lately heard from in Newbern, where he called himself Henry

Barnes (or Burns), and will be likely to continue the same name, or

assume that of Copage or Farmer. He has a free mulatto woman for a

wife, by the name of Sally Bozeman, who has lately removed to

Wilmington, and lives in that part of the town called Texas, where

he will likely be lurking.

Masters of vessels are particularly cautioned against harboring or

concealing the said negro on board their vessels, as the full

penalty of the law will be rigorously enforced.

_June 29th, 1850._

GUILFORD HORN.

There is an inkling of history and romance about the description of this

same Harry, who is thus publicly set up to be killed in any way that any

of the negro-hunters of the swamps may think the most piquant and

enlivening. It seems he is a carpenter,—a powerfully made man, whose

thews and sinews might be a profitable acquisition to himself. It

appears also that he has a wife, and the advertiser intimates that

possibly he may be caught prowling about somewhere in her vicinity. This

indicates sagacity in the writer, certainly. Married men generally have

a way of liking the society of their wives; and it strikes us, from what

we know of the nature of carpenters here in New England, that Harry was

not peculiar in this respect. Let us further notice the portrait of

Harry: “_Eyes deep sunk in his head;—forehead very square_.” This

picture reminds us of what a persecuting old ecclesiastic once said, in

the days of the Port-Royalists, of a certain truculent abbess, who stood

obstinately to a certain course, in the face of the whole power,

temporal and spiritual, of the Romish church, in spite of fining,

imprisoning, starving, whipping, beating, and other enlightening

argumentative processes, not wholly peculiar, it seems, to that age.

“You will never subdue that woman,” said the ecclesiastic, who was a

phrenologist before his age; “she’s got a _square head_, and I have

always noticed that people with _square heads_ never can be turned out

of their course.” We think it very probable that Harry, with his “square

head,” is just one of this sort. He is probably one of those articles

which would be extremely valuable, if the owner could only get the use

of him. His head is well enough, but he will use it for himself. It is

of no use to any one but the wearer; and the master seems to symbolize

this state of things, by offering twenty-five dollars more for the head

without the body, than he is willing to give for head, man and all. Poor

Harry! We wonder whether they have caught him yet; or whether the

impenetrable thickets, the poisonous miasma, the deadly snakes, and the

unwieldy alligators of the swamps, more humane than the slave-hunter,

have interposed their uncouth and loathsome forms to guard the only

fastness in Carolina where a slave can live in freedom.

It is not, then, in mere poetic fiction that the humane and graceful pen

of Longfellow has drawn the following picture:

“In the dark fens of the Dismal Swamp

The hunted negro lay;

He saw the fire of the midnight camp,

And heard at times the horse’s tramp,

And a bloodhound’s distant bay.

“Where will-o’the-wisps and glow-worms shine,

In bulrush and in brake;

Where waving mosses shroud the pine,

And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine

Is spotted like the snake;

“Where hardly a human foot could pass,

Or a human heart would dare,—

On the quaking turf of the green morass

He crouched in the rank and tangled grass,

Like a wild beast in his lair.

“A poor old slave! infirm and lame,

Great scars deformed his face;

On his forehead he bore the brand of shame,

And the rags that hid his mangled frame

Were the livery of disgrace.

“All things above were bright and fair,

All things were glad and free;

Lithe squirrels darted here and there,

And wild birds filled the echoing air

With songs of liberty!

“On him alone was the doom of pain,

From the morning of his birth;

On him alone the curse of Cain[10]

Fell like the flail on the garnered grain,

And struck him to the earth.”

The civilized world may and will ask, in what state this law has been

drawn, and passed, and revised, and allowed to appear at the present day

on the revised statute-book, and to be executed in the year of our Lord

1850, as the above-cited extracts from its most respectable journals

show. Is it some heathen, Kurdish tribe, some nest of pirates, some

horde of barbarians, where destructive gods are worshipped, and

libations to their honor poured from human skulls? The civilized world

will not believe it,—but it is actually a fact, that this law has been

made, and is still kept in force, by men in every other respect than

what relates to their slave-code as high-minded, as enlightened, as

humane, as any men in Christendom;—by citizens of a state which glories

in the blood and hereditary Christian institutions of Scotland.

Curiosity to know what sort of men the legislators of North Carolina

might be, led the writer to examine with some attention the proceedings

and debates of the convention of that state, called to amend its

constitution, which assembled at Raleigh, June 4th, 1835. It is but

justice to say that in these proceedings, in which all the different and

perhaps conflicting interests of the various parts of the state were

discussed, there was an exhibition of candor, fairness and moderation,

of gentlemanly honor and courtesy in the treatment of opposing claims,

and of an overruling sense of the obligations of law and religion, which

certainly have not always been equally conspicuous in the proceedings of

deliberative bodies in such cases. It simply goes to show that one can

judge nothing of the religion or of the humanity of individuals from

what seems to us objectionable practice, where they have been educated

under a system entirely incompatible with both. Such is the very

equivocal character of what we call virtue.

It could not be for a moment supposed that such men as Judge Ruffin, or

many of the gentlemen who figure in the debates alluded to, would ever

think of availing themselves of the savage permissions of such a law.

But what then? It follows that the law is a direct permission, letting

loose upon the defenceless slave that class of men who exist in every

community, who have no conscience, no honor, no shame,—who are too far

below public opinion to be restrained by that, and from whom accordingly

this provision of the law takes away the only available restraint of

their fiendish natures. Such men are not peculiar to the South. It is

unhappily too notorious that they exist everywhere,—in England, in New

England, and the world over; but they can only arrive at full maturity

in wickedness under a system where the law clothes them with absolute

and irresponsible power.

-----

Footnote 7:

This man was burned alive.

Footnote 8:

The old statute of 1741 had some features still more edifying. That

provides that said “proclamation shall be published on a Sabbath day,

at the door of every church or chapel, or, for want of such, at the

place where divine service shall be performed in the said county, by

the parish clerk or reader, _immediately_ after divine service.”

_Potter’s Revisal_, i. 166. What a peculiar appropriateness there must

have been in this proclamation, particularly after a sermon on the

love of Christ, or an exposition of the text “thou shalt love thy

neighbor as thyself!”

Footnote 9:

[Sidenote: Potter’s Revisal, ch. 467, § 2.]

_Be it further enacted_, That when any slave shall be legally outlawed

in any of the counties within mentioned, the owner of which shall

reside in one of the said counties, and the said slave shall be killed

in consequence of such outlawry, the value of such slave shall be

ascertained by a jury which shall be empanelled at the succeeding

court of the county where the said slave was killed, and a certificate

of such valuation shall be given by the clerk of the court to the

owner of said slave, who shall be entitled to receive two-thirds of

such valuation from the sheriff of the county wherein the slave was

killed. [Extended to other counties in 1797.—Potter, ch. 480, § 1.]

_now obsolete_.

Footnote 10:

Gen. 4:14.—“And it shall come to pass that every one that findeth me

shall slay me.”

CHAPTER V.

PROTECTIVE ACTS OF SOUTH CAROLINA AND LOUISIANA.—THE IRON COLLAR OF

LOUISIANA AND NORTH CAROLINA.

Thus far by way of considering the protective acts of North Carolina,

Georgia and Tennessee.

Certain miscellaneous protective acts of various other states will now

be cited, merely as specimens of the spirit of legislation.

[Sidenote: Stroud, p. 39. 2 Brevard’s Digest, p. 241.]

In South Carolina, the act of 1740 punished the wilful, deliberate

murder of a slave by disfranchisement, and by a fine of seven hundred

pounds current money, or, in default of payment, imprisonment for seven

years. But the wilful murder of a slave, in the sense contemplated in

this law, is a crime which would not often occur. The kind of murder

which was most frequent among masters or overseers was guarded against

by another section of the same act,—_how adequately_ the reader will

judge for himself, from the following quotation:

[Sidenote: Stroud’s Sketch, p. 40. 2 Brevard’s Digest, 241. James’

Digest, 392.]

If any person shall, on a sudden heat or passion, or by _undue

correction_, kill his own slave, or the slave of any other person,

he shall forfeit the sum of _three hundred and fifty pounds_ current

money.

In 1821 the act punishing the wilful murder of the slave only with fine

or imprisonment was mainly repealed, and it was enacted that such crime

should be punished by death; but the latter section, which relates to

killing the slave in sudden heat or passion, or by undue correction, has

been altered only by _diminishing_ the pecuniary penalty to a fine of

five hundred dollars, authorizing also imprisonment for six months.

The next protective statute to be noticed is the following from the act

of 1740, South Carolina.

[Sidenote: Stroud, p. 40. 2 Brevard’s Digest, 241.]

In case any person shall wilfully cut out the tongue, put out the

eye, * * * or cruelly scald, burn, or deprive any slave of any limb,

or member, or shall inflict any other cruel punishment, _other than_

by whipping or beating with a horse-whip, cowskin, switch or small

stick, or by putting irons on, or confining or imprisoning such

slave, every such person shall, for every such offence, forfeit the

sum of one hundred pounds, current money.

The language of this law, like many other of these protective

enactments, is exceedingly suggestive; the first suggestion that occurs

is, What sort of an institution, and what sort of a state of society is

it, that called out a law worded like this? Laws are generally not made

against practices that do not exist, and exist with some degree of

frequency.

The advocates of slavery are very fond of comparing it to the apprentice

system of England and America. Let us suppose that in the British

Parliament, or in a New England Legislature, the following law is

proposed, under the title of An Act for the Protection of Apprentices,

&c. &c.

In case any person shall wilfully cut out the tongue, put out the

eye, or cruelly scald, burn, or deprive any apprentice of any limb

or member, or shall inflict any other cruel punishment, other than

by whipping or beating with a horse-whip, cowskin, switch or small

stick, or by putting irons on or confining or imprisoning such

apprentice, every such person shall, for every such offence, forfeit

the sum of one hundred pounds, current money.

What a sensation such a proposed law would make in England may be best

left for Englishmen to say; but in New England it would simply

constitute the proposer a candidate for Bedlam. Yet that such a statute

is necessary in South Carolina is evident enough, if we reflect that,

because there is no such statute in Virginia, it has been decided that a

wretch who perpetrates all these enormities on a slave cannot even be

indicted for it, unless the slave dies.

But let us look further:—What is to be the penalty when any of these

fiendish things are done?

Why, the man forfeits a hundred pounds, current money. Surely he ought

to pay as much as that for doing so very unnecessary an act, when the

Legislature bountifully allows him to inflict any torture which

revengeful ingenuity could devise, by means of horse-whip, cowskin,

switch or small stick, or putting irons on, or confining and

imprisoning. One would surely think that here was sufficient scope and

variety of legalized means of torture to satisfy any ordinary appetite

for vengeance. It would appear decidedly that any more piquant varieties

of agony ought to be an extra charge. The advocates of slavery are fond

of comparing the situation of the slave with that of the English

laborer. We are not aware that the English laborer has been so

unfortunate as to be protected by any enactment like this, since the

days of villeinage.

[Sidenote: Stroud’s Sketch, p. 41. 1 Mar. Digest, 654.]

Judge Stroud says, that the same law, substantially, has been adopted in

Louisiana. It is true that the civil code of Louisiana thus expresses

its humane intentions.

The slave is entirely subject to the will of his master, who may

correct and chastise him, though not with unusual rigor, nor so as

to maim or mutilate him, or to expose him to the danger of loss of

life, or to cause his death.—_Civil Code of Louisiana, Article 173._

The expression “unusual rigor” is suggestive, again. It will afford

large latitude for a jury, in states where slaves are in the habit of

_dying_ under _moderate_ correction; where outlawed slaves may be killed

by any means which any person thinks fit; and where laws have to be

specifically made against scalding, burning, cutting out the tongue,

putting out the eye, &c. What will be thought unusual rigor? This is a

question, certainly, upon which persons in states not so constituted can

have no means of forming an opinion.

In one of the newspaper extracts with which we prefaced our account, the

following protective act of Louisiana is alluded to, as being

particularly satisfactory and efficient. We give it, as quoted by Judge

Stroud in his Sketch, page 58, giving his reference.

No master shall be compelled to sell his slave, but in one of two

cases, to wit: the first, when, being only co-proprietor of the

slave, his co-proprietor demands the sale, in order to make

partition of the property; _second_, when the master shall be

CONVICTED of cruel treatment of his slave, AND THE JUDGE SHALL DEEM

IT PROPER TO PRONOUNCE, besides the penalty established for such

cases, that the slave shall be sold at public auction, in order to

place him out of the reach of the power which his master has

abused.—_Civil Code, Art. 192._

The question for a jury to determine in this case is, What is cruel

treatment of a slave? Now, if all these barbarities which have been

sanctioned by the legislative acts which we have quoted are not held to

be cruel treatment, the question is, What _is_ cruel treatment of a

slave?

Everything that fiendish barbarity could desire can be effected under

the protection of the law of South Carolina, which, as we have just

shown, exists also in Louisiana. It is true the law restrains from some

particular forms of cruelty. If any person has a mind to scald or burn

his slave,—and it seems, by the statute, that there have been such

people,—these statutes merely provide that he shall do it in decent

privacy; for, as the very keystone of Southern jurisprudence is the

rejection of colored testimony, such an outrage, if perpetrated most

deliberately in the presence of hundreds of slaves, could not be proved

upon the master.

It is to be supposed that the fiendish people whom such statutes have in

view will generally have enough of common sense not to perform it in the

presence of white witnesses, since this simple act of prudence will

render them entirely safe in doing whatever they have a mind to. We are

told, it is true, as we have been reminded by our friend in the

newspaper before quoted, that in Louisiana the deficiency caused by the

rejection of negro testimony is supplied by the following most

remarkable provision of the Code Noir:

If any slave be mutilated, beaten, or ill treated, contrary to the

true intent and meaning of this section, when no one shall be

present, in such case the owner, or other person having the charge

or management of said slave thus mutilated, shall be deemed

responsible and guilty of the said offence, and shall be

prosecuted without further evidence, unless the said owner, or

other person so as aforesaid, can prove the contrary by means of

good and sufficient evidence, or can clear himself by his own

oath, which said oath every court under the cognizance of which

such offence shall have been examined and tried is by this act

authorized to administer.—_Code Noir. Crimes and Offences_, 56.

xvii. _Rev. Stat._ 1852, p. 550, § 141.

Would one have supposed that sensible people could ever publish as a law

such a specimen of utter legislative nonsense—so ridiculous on the very

face of it!

The object is to bring to justice those fiendish people who burn, scald,

mutilate, &c. How is this done? Why, it is enacted that the fact of

finding the slave in this condition shall be held presumption against

the owner or overseer, unless—unless what? Why, unless he will prove to

the contrary,—or swear to the contrary, it is no matter which—either

will answer the purpose. The question is, If a man is bad enough to do

these things, will he not be bad enough to swear falsely? As if men who

are the incarnation of cruelty, as supposed by the deeds in question,

would not have sufficient intrepidity of conscience to compass a false

oath!

What was this law ever made for? Can any one imagine?

Upon this whole subject, we may quote the language of Judge Stroud, who

thus sums up the whole amount of the protective laws for the slave, in

the United States of America:

Upon a fair review of what has been written on the subject of this

proposition, the result is found to be—that the master’s power to

inflict corporal punishment to any extent, short of life and limb,

is fully sanctioned by law, in _all_ the slave-holding states; that

the master, in at least two states, is _expressly_ protected in

using the horse-whip and cowskin as instruments for _beating_ his

slave; that he may with entire impunity, in the same states, load

his slave with irons, or subject him to perpetual imprisonment,

whenever he may so choose; that, for cruelly scalding, wilfully

cutting out the tongue, putting out an eye, and for any other

dismemberment, if proved, a fine of one hundred pounds currency only

is incurred in South Carolina; that, though in all the states the

wilful, deliberate and malicious murder of the slave is now

_directed_ to be punished with death, yet, as in the case of a

_white_ offender none except whites can give evidence, a conviction

can seldom, if ever, take place.—_Stroud’s Sketch_, p. 43.

One very singular antithesis of two laws of Louisiana will still further

show that deadness of public sentiment on cruelty to the slave which is

an inseparable attendant on the system. It will be recollected that the

remarkable _protective_ law of South Carolina, with respect to scalding,

burning, cutting out the tongue, and putting out the eye of the slave,

has been substantially enacted in Louisiana; and that the penalty for a

man’s doing these things there, if he has not sense enough to do it

privately, is not more than five hundred dollars.

Now, compare this other statute of Louisiana, (Rev. Stat. 1852, p. 552,

§ 151):

[Sidenote: Stroud, p. 41.]

If any person or persons, &c., shall cut or break any iron chain or

collar, which any master of slaves should have used, in order to

prevent the running away or escape of any such slave or slaves, such

person or persons so offending shall, on conviction, &c., be fined

not less than two hundred dollars, nor exceeding one thousand

dollars; and suffer imprisonment for a term not exceeding two years,

nor less than six months.—_Act of Assembly of March 6, 1819.

Pamphlet, page 64._

Some Englishmen may naturally ask, “What is this iron collar which the

Legislature have thought worthy of being protected by a special act?” On

this subject will be presented the testimony of an unimpeachable

witness, Miss Sarah M. Grimké, a personal friend of the author. “Miss

Grimké is a daughter of the late Judge Grimké, of the Supreme Court of

South Carolina, and sister of the late Hon. Thomas S. Grimké.” She is

now a member of the Society of Friends, and resides in Bellville, New

Jersey. The statement given is of a kind that its author did not mean to

give, nor wish to give, and never would have given, had it not been made

necessary to illustrate this passage in the slave-law. The account

occurs in a statement which Miss Grimké furnished to her brother-in-law,

Mr. Weld, and has been before the public ever since 1839, in his work

entitled _Slavery as It Is_, p. 22.

A handsome mulatto woman, about eighteen or twenty years of age,

whose independent spirit could not brook the degradation of slavery,

was in the habit of running away: for this offence she had been

repeatedly sent by her master and mistress to be whipped by the

keeper of the Charleston workhouse. This had been done with such

inhuman severity as to lacerate her back in a most shocking manner;

a finger could not be laid between the cuts. But the love of liberty

was too strong to be annihilated by torture; and, as a last resort,

she was whipped at several different times, and kept a close

prisoner. A heavy iron collar, with three long prongs projecting

from it, was placed round her neck, and a strong and sound front

tooth was extracted, to serve as a mark to describe her, in case of

escape. Her sufferings at this time were agonizing; she could lie in

no position but on her back, which was sore from scourgings, as I

can testify from personal inspection; and her only place of rest was

the floor, on a blanket. These outrages were committed in a family

where the mistress daily read the Scriptures, and assembled her

children for family worship. She was accounted, and was really, so

far as almsgiving was concerned, a charitable woman, and

tender-hearted to the poor; and yet this suffering slave, who was

the seamstress of the family, was continually in her presence,

sitting in her chamber to sew, or engaged in her other household

work, with her lacerated and bleeding back, her mutilated mouth, and

heavy iron collar, without, so far as appeared, exciting any

feelings of compassion.

This iron collar the author has often heard of from sources equally

authentic.[11] That one will meet with it every day in walking the

streets, is not probable; but that it must have been used with some

great degree of frequency, is evident from the fact of a law being

thought necessary to protect it. But look at the penalty of the two

_protective_ laws! The fiendish cruelties described in the act of South

Carolina cost the perpetrator not more than five hundred dollars, if he

does them before white people. The act of humanity costs from two

hundred to one thousand dollars, and imprisonment from six months to two

years, according to discretion of court! What public sentiment was it

which made these laws?

-----

Footnote 11:

The iron collar was also in vogue in North Carolina, as the following

extract from the statute-book will show. The wearers of this article

of apparel certainly have some reason to complain of the “tyranny of

fashion.”

“When the keeper of the said public jail shall, by direction of such

court as aforesaid, let out any negro or runaway to hire, to any

person or persons whomsoever, the said keeper shall, at the time of

his delivery, cause an iron collar to be put on the neck of such negro

or runaway, with the letters P. G. stamped thereon; and thereafter the

said keeper shall not be answerable for any escape of the said negro

or runaway.”—_Potter’s Revisal_, i. 162.

CHAPTER VI.

PROTECTIVE ACTS WITH REGARD TO FOOD AND RAIMENT, LABOR, ETC.

Illustrative Drama of Tom _v._ Legree, under the Law of South

Carolina.—Separation of Parent and Child.

[Sidenote: Wheeler, p. 220. State _v._ Sue, Cameron & Norwood’s C. Rep.

54.]

Having finished the consideration of the laws which protect the life and

limb of the slave, the reader may feel a curiosity to know something of

the provisions by which he is protected in regard to food and clothing,

and from the exactions of excessive labor. It is true, there are

multitudes of men in the Northern States who would say, at once, that

such enactments, on the very face of them, must be superfluous and

absurd. “What!” they say, “are not the slaves property? and is it likely

that any man will impair the market value of his own property by not

giving them sufficient food or clothing, or by over-working them?” This

process of reasoning appears to have been less convincing to the

legislators of Southern States than to gentlemen generally at the North;

since, as Judge Taylor says, “the act of 1786 (Iredell’s Revisal, p.

588) does, in the preamble, recognize the fact, that _many_ persons, by

cruel treatment of their slaves, cause them to commit crimes for which

they are executed;” and the judge further explains this language, by

saying, “The cruel treatment here alluded to must consist in withholding

from them the necessaries of life; and the crimes thus resulting are

such as are necessary to furnish them with food and raiment.”

The State of South Carolina, in the act of 1740 (see Stroud’s Sketch, p.

28), had a section with the following language in its preamble:

[Sidenote: Stroud, p. 29.]

Whereas _many_ owners of slaves, and _others_ who have the care,

management, and overseeing of slaves, _do confine them so closely to

hard labor that they have not sufficient time for natural rest_;—

And the law goes on to enact that the slave shall not work more than

fifteen hours a day in summer, and fourteen in winter. Judge Stroud

makes it appear that in three of the slave states the time allotted for

work to convicts in prison, whose punishment is to consist in hard

labor, cannot exceed _ten_ hours, even in the summer months.

This was the protective act of South Carolina, designed to reform the

abusive practices of masters who confined their slaves so closely that

they had not time for natural rest! What sort of habits of thought do

these humane provisions show, in the makers of them? In order to protect

the slave from what they consider undue exaction, they humanely provide

that he shall be obliged to work only four or five hours longer than the

convicts in the prison of the neighboring state! In the Island of

Jamaica, besides many holidays which were accorded by law to the slave,

ten hours a day was the extent to which he was compelled by law

ordinarily to work.—See _Stroud_, p. 29.

With regard to protective acts concerning food and clothing, Judge

Stroud gives the following example from the legislation of South

Carolina. The author gives it as quoted by _Stroud_, p. 32.

In case any person, &c., who shall be the owner, or who shall have

the care, government or charge, of any slave or slaves, shall deny,

neglect or refuse to allow, such slave or slaves, &c., sufficient

clothing, covering or food, it shall and may be lawful for any

person or persons, on behalf of such slave or slaves, to make

complaint to the next neighboring justice in the parish where such

slave or slaves live, or are usually employed, * * * and the said

justice shall summons the party against whom such complaint shall be

made, and shall inquire of, hear and determine, the same; and, if

the said justice shall find the said complaint to be true, or that

such person will not exculpate or clear himself from the charge, by

his or her own oath, which _such person shall be at liberty to do in

all cases_ where positive proof is not given of the offence, such

justice shall and may make such orders upon the same, for the relief

of such slave or slaves, as he in his discretion shall think fit;

and shall and may set and impose a fine or penalty on any person who

shall offend in the premises, in any sum not exceeding twenty pounds

current money, for each offence.—_2 Brevard’s, Dig. 241._ Also

_Cobb’s Dig. 827_.

A similar law obtains in Louisiana.—_Rev. Stat._ 1852, p. 557, § 166.

Now, would not anybody think, from the virtuous solemnity and gravity of

this act, that it was intended in some way to amount to something? Let

us give a little sketch, to show how much it does amount to. Angelina

Grimké Weld, sister to Sarah Grimké, before quoted, gives the following

account of the situation of slaves on plantations:[12]

And here let me say, that the treatment of _plantation_ slaves

cannot be fully known, except by the poor sufferers themselves, and

their drivers and overseers. In a multitude of instances, even the

master can know very little of the actual condition of his own

field-slaves, and his wife and daughters far less. A few facts

concerning my own family will show this. Our permanent residence was

in Charleston; our country-seat (Bellemont) was two hundred miles

distant, in the north western part of the state, where, for some

years, our family spent a few months annually. Our _plantation_ was

three miles from this family mansion. There all the field-slaves

lived and worked. Occasionally,—once a month, perhaps,—some of the

family would ride over to the plantation; but I never visited the

_fields where the slaves were at work_, and knew almost nothing of

their condition; but this I do know, that the overseers who had

charge of them were generally unprincipled and intemperate men. But

I rejoice to know that the general treatment of slaves in that

region of country was far milder than on the plantations in the

lower country.

Throughout all the eastern and middle portions of the state, the

planters very rarely reside permanently on their plantations. They

have almost invariably _two_ residences, and spend less than half

the year on their estates. Even while spending a few months on them,

politics, field-sports, races, speculations, journeys, visits,

company, literary pursuits, &c., absorb so much of their time, that

they must, to a considerable extent, take the condition of their

slaves on _trust_, from the reports of their overseers. I make this

statement, because these slaveholders (the wealthier class) are, I

believe, almost the only ones who visit the North with their

families; and Northern opinions of slavery are based chiefly on

their testimony.

With regard to overseers, Miss Grimké’s testimony is further borne out

by the universal acknowledgment of Southern owners. A description of

this class of beings is furnished by Mr. Wirt, in his Life of Patrick

Henry, page 34. “Last and lowest,” he says, [of different classes in

society] “a _feculum_ of beings called overseers,—a most abject,

degraded, unprincipled race.” Now, suppose, while the master is in

Charleston, enjoying literary leisure, the slaves on some Bellemont or

other plantation, getting tired of being hungry and cold, form

themselves into a committee of the whole, to see what is to be done. A

broad-shouldered, courageous fellow, whom we will call Tom, declares it

is too bad, and he won’t stand it any longer; and, having by some means

become acquainted with this benevolent protective act, resolves to make

an appeal to the horns of this legislative altar. Tom talks stoutly,

having just been bought on to the place, and been used to better

quarters elsewhere. The women and children perhaps admire, but the

venerable elders of the plantation,—Sambo, Cudge, Pomp and old Aunt

Dinah,—tell him he better mind himself, and keep clar o’ dat ar. Tom,

being young and progressive, does not regard these conservative maxims;

he is determined that, if there is such a thing as justice to be got, he

will have it. After considerable research, he finds some white man in

the neighborhood verdant enough to enter the complaint for him. Master

Legree finds himself, one sunshiny, pleasant morning, walked off to some

Justice Dogberry’s, to answer to the charge of not giving his niggers

enough to eat and wear. We will call the infatuated white man who has

undertaken this fool’s errand Master Shallow. Let us imagine a

scene:—Legree, standing carelessly with his hands in his pockets,

rolling a quid of tobacco in his mouth; Justice Dogberry, seated in all

the majesty of law, reinforced by a decanter of whiskey and some

tumblers, intended to assist in illuminating the intellect in such

obscure cases.

_Justice Dogberry._ Come, gentlemen, take a little something, to begin

with. Mr. Legree, sit down; sit down, Mr.—a’ what’s-your-name?—Mr.

Shallow.

Mr. Legree and Mr. Shallow each sit down, and take their tumbler of

whiskey and water. After some little conversation, the justice

introduces the business as follows:

“Now, about this nigger business. Gentlemen, you know the act

of——um—um,—where the deuce _is_ that act? [Fumbling an old law-book.]

How plagued did you ever hear of that act, Shallow? I’m sure I’m forgot

all about it;—O! here ‘tis. Well, Mr. Shallow, the act says you must

make proof, you observe.”

_Mr. Shallow._ [Stuttering and hesitating.] Good land! why, don’t

everybody see that them ar niggers are most starved? Only see how ragged

they are!

_Justice._ I can’t say as I’ve observed it particular. Seem to be very

well contented.

_Shallow._ [Eagerly.] But just ask Pomp, or Sambo, or Dinah, or Tom!

_Justice Dogberry._ [With dignity.] I’m astonished at you, Mr. Shallow!

You think of producing negro testimony? I hope I know the law better

than that! We must have direct proof, you know.

Shallow is posed; Legree significantly takes another tumbler of whiskey

and water, and Justice Dogberry gives a long ahe-a-um. After a few

moments the justice speaks:

“Well, after all, I suppose, Mr. Legree, you wouldn’t have any

objections to swarin’ off; that settles it all, you know.”

As swearing is what Mr. Legree is rather more accustomed to do than

anything else that could be named, a more appropriate termination of the

affair could not be suggested; and he swears, accordingly, to any

extent, and with any fulness and variety of oath that could be desired;

and thus the little affair terminates. But it does not terminate thus

for Tom or Sambo, Dinah, or any others who have been alluded to for

authority. What will happen to them, when Mr. Legree comes home, had

better be left to conjecture.

It is claimed, by the author of certain paragraphs quoted at the

commencement of Part II., that there exist in Louisiana ample protective

acts to prevent the separation of young children from their mothers.

This writer appears to be in the enjoyment of an amiable ignorance and

unsophisticated innocence with regard to the workings of human society

generally, which is, on the whole, rather refreshing. For, on a certain

incident in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” which represented Cassy’s little

daughter as having been sold from her, he makes the following _naïf_

remark:

Now, the reader will perhaps be surprised to know that such an

incident as the sale of Cassy apart from Eliza, upon which the whole

interest of the foregoing narrative hinges, never could have taken

place in Louisiana, and that the bill of sale for Eliza would not

have been worth the paper it was written on.—Observe. George Shelby

states that Eliza was _eight or nine years old_ at the time his

father purchased her in New Orleans. Let us again look at the

statute-book of Louisiana.

In the _Code Noir_ we find it set down that

“Every person is expressly prohibited from selling separately from

their mothers _the children who shall not have attained the full age

of ten years_.”

And this humane provision is strengthened by a statute, one clause

of which runs as follows:

“Be it further enacted, that if any person or persons shall sell the

mother of any slave child or children _under the age of ten years,

separate from said child or children, or shall, the mother living,

sell any slave child or children of ten years of age or under,

separate from said mother_, such person or persons shall incur the

penalty of the sixth section of this act.”

This penalty is a fine of not less than one thousand nor more than

two thousand dollars, and imprisonment in the public jail for a

period of not less than six months nor more than one year.—_Vide

Acts of Louisiana, 1 Session, 9th Legislature_, 1828–9, No. 24,

Section 16. (_Rev. Stat._ 1852, p. 550, § 143.)

What a charming freshness of nature is suggested by this assertion! A

thing could not have happened in a certain state, because there is a law

against it!

Has there not been for two years a law forbidding to succor fugitives,

or to hinder their arrest?—and has not this thing been done thousands of

times in all the Northern States, and is not it more and more likely to

be done every year? What is a law, against the whole public sentiment of

society?—and will anybody venture to say that the public sentiment of

Louisiana _practically_ goes against separation of families?

But let us examine a case more minutely, remembering the bearing on it

of two great foundation principles of slave jurisprudence: namely, that

a slave cannot bring a suit in any case, except in a suit for personal

freedom, and this in some states must be brought by a guardian; and that

a slave cannot bear testimony in any case in which whites are

implicated.

Suppose Butler wants to sell Cassy’s child of nine years. There is a

statute forbidding to sell under ten years;—what is Cassy to do? She

cannot bring suit. Will the state prosecute? Suppose it does,—what then?

Butler says the child is ten years old; if he pleases, he will say she

is ten and a half, or eleven. What is Cassy to do? She cannot testify;

besides, she is utterly in Butler’s power. He may tell her that if she

offers to stir in the affair, he will whip the child within an inch of

its life; and she knows he can do it, and that there is no help for

it;—he may lock her up in a dungeon, sell her on to a distant

plantation, or do any other despotic thing he chooses, and there is

nobody to say Nay.

How much does the protective statute amount to for Cassy? It may be very

well as a piece of advice to the public, or as a decorous expression of

opinion; but one might as well try to stop the current of the

Mississippi with a bulrush as the tide of trade in human beings with

such a regulation.

We think that, by this time, the reader will agree with us, that the

less the defenders of slavery say about protective statutes, the better.

-----

Footnote 12:

Slavery as It Is; Testimony of a Thousand Witnesses. New York, 1839,

pp. 52, 53.

CHAPTER VII.

THE EXECUTION OF JUSTICE.

State _v._ Eliza Rowand.—The “Ægis of Protection” to the Slave’s Life.

“We cannot but regard the fact of this trial as a salutary

occurrence.”—_Charleston Courier._

Having given some account of what sort of statutes are to be found on

the law-books of slavery, the reader will hardly be satisfied without

knowing what sort of trials are held under them. We will quote one

specimen of a trial, reported in the _Charleston Courier_ of May 6th,

1847. The _Charleston Courier_ is one of the leading papers of South

Carolina, and the case is reported with the utmost apparent innocence

that there was anything about the trial that could reflect in the least

on the character of the state for the utmost legal impartiality. In

fact, the _Charleston Courier_ ushers it into public view with the

following flourish of trumpets, as something which is forever to

confound those who say that South Carolina does not protect the life of

the slave:

THE TRIAL FOR MURDER.

Our community was deeply interested and excited, yesterday, by a

case of great importance, and also of entire novelty in our

jurisprudence. It was the trial of a lady of respectable family, and

the mother of a large family, charged with the murder of her own or

her husband’s slave. The court-house was thronged with spectators of

the exciting drama, who remained, with unabated interest and

undiminished numbers, until the verdict was rendered acquitting the

prisoner. We cannot but regard the fact of this trial as a salutary,

although in itself lamentable occurrence, as it will show to the

world that, however panoplied in station and wealth, and although

challenging those sympathies which are the right and inheritance of

the female sex, no one will be suffered, in this community, to

escape the most sifting scrutiny, at the risk of even an ignominious

death, who stands charged with the suspicion of murdering a

slave,—to whose life our law now extends the ægis of protection, in

the same manner as it does to that of the white man, _save only in

the character of the evidence necessary for conviction or defence_.

While evil-disposed persons at home are thus taught that they may

expect rigorous trial and condign punishment, when, actuated by

malignant passions, they invade the life of the humble slave, the

enemies of our domestic institution abroad will find, their

calumnies to the contrary notwithstanding, that we are resolved, in

this particular, to do the full measure of our duty to the laws of

humanity. We subjoin a report of the case.

The proceedings of the trial are thus given:

TRIAL FOR THE MURDER OF A SLAVE.

_State_ v. _Eliza Rowand_.—_Spring Term, May 5, 1847._

Tried before his Honor Judge O’Neall.

The prisoner was brought to the bar and arraigned, attended by her

husband and mother, and humanely supported, during the trying scene,

by the sheriff, J. B. Irving, Esq. On her arraignment, she pleaded

“Not Guilty,” and for her trial, placed herself upon “God and her

country.” After challenging John M. Deas, James Bancroft, H. F.

Harbers, C. J. Beckman, E. R. Cowperthwaite, Parker J. Holland,

Moses D. Hyams, Thomas Glaze, John Lawrence, B. Archer, J. S.

Addison, B. P. Colburn, B. M. Jenkins, Carl Houseman, Geo. Jackson,

and Joseph Coppenberg, the prisoner accepted the subjoined panel,

who were duly sworn, and charged with the case: 1. John L. Nowell,

foreman. 2. Elias Whilden. 3. Jesse Coward. 4. Effington Wagner. 5.

Wm. Whaley. 6. James Culbert. 7. R. L. Baker. 8. S. Wiley. 9. W. S.

Chisolm. 10. T. M. Howard. 11. John Bickley. 12. John Y. Stock.

The following is the indictment on which the prisoner was arraigned for

trial:

_The State_ v. _Eliza Rowand_—_Indictment for murder of a slave_.

STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, } to wit:

_Charleston District_, }

At a Court of General Sessions, begun and holden in and for the

district of Charleston, in the State of South Carolina, at

Charleston, in the district and state aforesaid, on Monday, the

third day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred

and forty-seven:

The jurors of and for the district of Charleston, aforesaid, in the

State of South Carolina, aforesaid, upon their oaths present, that

Eliza Rowand, the wife of Robert Rowand, Esq., not having the fear

of God before her eyes, but being moved and seduced by the

instigation of the devil, on the 6th day of January, in the year of

our Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-seven, with force and

arms, at Charleston, in the district of Charleston, and state

aforesaid, in and upon a certain female slave of the said Robert

Rowand, named Maria, in the peace of God, and of the said state,

then and there being, feloniously, maliciously, wilfully,

deliberately, and of her malice aforethought, did make an assault;

and that a certain other slave of the said Robert Rowand, named

Richard, then and there, being then and there in the presence and by

the command of the said Eliza Rowand, with a certain piece of wood,

which he the said Richard in both his hands then and there had and

held, the said Maria did beat and strike, in and upon the head of

her the said Maria, then and there giving to her the said Maria, by

such striking and beating, as aforesaid, with the piece of wood

aforesaid, divers mortal bruises on the top, back, and sides of the

head of her the said Maria, of which several mortal bruises she, the

said Maria, then and there instantly died; and that the said Eliza

Rowand was then and there present, and then and there feloniously,

maliciously, wilfully, deliberately, and of her malice aforethought,

did order, command, and require, the said slave named Richard the

murder and felony aforesaid, in manner and form aforesaid, to do and

commit. And as the jurors aforesaid, upon their oaths aforesaid, do

say, that the said Eliza Rowand her the said slave named Maria, in

the manner and by the means, aforesaid, feloniously, maliciously,

wilfully, deliberately, and of her malice aforethought, did kill and

murder, against the form of the act of the General Assembly of the

said state in such case made and provided, and against the peace and

dignity of the same state aforesaid.

And the jurors aforesaid, upon their oaths aforesaid, do further

present, that the said Eliza Rowand, not having the fear of God

before her eyes, but being moved and seduced by the instigation of

the devil, on the sixth day of January, in the year of our Lord one

thousand eight hundred and forty-seven, with force and arms, at

Charleston, in the district of Charleston, and state aforesaid, in

and upon a certain other female slave of Robert Rowand, named Maria,

in the peace of God, and of the said state, then and there being,

feloniously, maliciously, wilfully, deliberately, and of her malice

aforethought, did make an assault; and that the said Eliza Rowand,

with a certain piece of wood, which she, the said Eliza Rowand, in

both her hands then and there had and held, her the said

last-mentioned slave named Maria did then and there strike, and

beat, in and upon the head of her the said Maria, then and there

giving to her the said Maria, by such striking and beating

aforesaid, with the piece of wood aforesaid, divers mortal bruises,

on the top, back, and side of the head, of her the said Maria, of

which said several mortal bruises she the said Maria then and there

instantly died. And so the jurors aforesaid, upon their oaths

aforesaid, do say, that the said Eliza Rowand her the said

last-mentioned slave named Maria, in the manner and by the means

last mentioned, feloniously, maliciously, wilfully, deliberately,

and of her malice aforethought, did kill and murder, against the

form of the act of the General Assembly of the said state in such

case made and provided, and against the peace and dignity of the

same state aforesaid.

H. BAILEY, _Attorney-general_.

As some of our readers may not have been in the habit of endeavoring to

extract anything like common sense or information from documents so very

concisely and luminously worded, the author will just state her own

opinion that the above document is intended to charge Mrs. Eliza Rowand

with having killed her slave Maria, in one of two ways: either with

beating her on the head with her own hands, or having the same deed

performed by proxy, by her slave-man Richard. The whole case is now

presented. In order to make the reader clearly understand the arguments,

it is necessary that he bear in mind that the law of 1740, as we have

before shown, punished the murder of the slave only with fine and

disfranchisement, while the law of 1821 punishes it with death.

On motion of Mr. Petigru, the prisoner was allowed to remove from

the bar, and take her place by her counsel; the judge saying he

granted the motion only because the prisoner was a woman, but that

no such privilege would have been extended by him to any man.

The Attorney-general, Henry Bailey, Esq., then rose and opened the

case for the state, in substance, as follows: He said that, after

months of anxiety and expectation, the curtain had at length risen,