IOLA LEROY,
OR
SHADOWS UPLIFTED.
BY
FRANCES E.W. HARPER.
1893, Philadelphia
TO MY DAUGHTER
MARY E. HARPER,
THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED.
INTRODUCTION.
I confess when I first learned that Mrs. Harper was about to write "a
story" on some features of the Anglo-African race, growing out of what
was once popularly known as the "peculiar institution," I had my doubts
about the matter. Indeed it was far from being easy for me to think that
she was as fortunate as she might have been in selecting a subject which
would afford her the best opportunity for bringing out a work of merit
and lasting worth to the race--such a work as some of her personal
friends have long desired to see from her graphic pen. However, after
hearing a good portion of the manuscript read, and a general statement
with regard to the object in view, I admit frankly that my partial
indifference was soon swept away; at least I was willing to wait for
further developments.
Being very desirous that one of the race, so long distinguished in the
cause of freedom for her intellectual worth as Mrs. Harper has had the
honor of being, should not at this late date in life make a blunder
which might detract from her own good name, I naturally proposed to
await developments before deciding too quickly in favor of giving
encouragement to her contemplated effort.
However, I was perfectly aware of the fact that she had much material in
her possession for a most interesting book on the subject of the
condition of the colored people in the South. I know of no other woman,
white or colored, anywhere, who has come so intimately in contact with
the colored people in the South as Mrs. Harper. Since emancipation she
has labored in every Southern State in the Union, save two, Arkansas and
Texas; in the colleges, schools, churches, and the cabins not excepted,
she has found a vast field and open doors to teach and speak on the
themes of education, temperance, and good home building, industry,
morality, and the like, and never lacked for evidences of hearty
appreciation and gratitude.
Everywhere help was needed, and her heart being deeply absorbed in the
cause she willingly allowed her sympathies to impel her to perform most
heroic services.
With her it was no uncommon occurrence, in visiting cities or towns, to
speak at two, three, and four meetings a day; sometimes to promiscuous
audiences composed of everybody who would care to come.
But the kind of meetings she took greatest interest in were meetings
called exclusively for women. In this attitude she could pour out her
sympathies to them as she could not do before a mixed audience; and
indeed she felt their needs were far more pressing than any other class.
And now I am prepared to most fully indorse her story. I doubt whether
she could, if she had tried ever so much, have hit upon a subject so
well adapted to reach a large number of her friends and the public with
both entertaining and instructive matter as successfully as she has done
in this volume.
The grand and ennobling sentiments which have characterized all her
utterances in laboring for the elevation of the oppressed will not be
found missing in this book.
The previous books from her pen, which have been so very widely
circulated and admired, North and South--"Forest Leaves," "Miscellaneous
Poems," "Moses, a Story of the Nile," "Poems," and "Sketches of Southern
Life" (five in number)--these, I predict, will be by far eclipsed by
this last effort, which will, in all probability, be the crowning effort
of her long and valuable services in the cause of humanity.
While, as indicated, Mrs. Harper has done a large amount of work in the
South, she has at the same time done much active service in the
temperance cause in the North, as thousands of this class can testify.
Before the war she was engaged as a speaker by anti-slavery
associations; since then, by appointment of the Women's Christian
Temperance Union, she has held the office of "Superintendent of Colored
Work" for years. She has also held the office of one of the Directors of
the Women's Congress of the United States.
Under the auspices of these influential, earnest, and intelligent
associations, she has been seen often on their platforms with the
leading lady orators of the nation.
Hence, being widely known not only amongst her own race but likewise by
the reformers, laboring for the salvation of the intemperate and others
equally unfortunate, there is little room to doubt that the book will be
in great demand and will meet with warm congratulations from a goodly
number outside of the author's social connections.
Doubtless the thousands of colored Sunday-schools in the South, in
casting about for an interesting, moral story-book, full of practical
lessons, will not be content to be without "IOLA LEROY, OR SHADOWS
UPLIFTED."
WILLIAM STILL.
CONTENTS.
Chapter
I. The Mystery of Market Speech and Prayer Meetings
II. Contraband of War
III. Uncle Daniel's Story
IV. Arrival of the Union Army
V. Release of Iola Leroy
VI. Robert Johnson's Promotion and Religion
VII. Tom Anderson's Death
VIII. The Mystified Doctor
IX. Eugene Leroy and Alfred Lorraine
X. Shadows in the Home
XI. The Plague and the Law
XII. School-girl Notions
XIII. A Rejected Suitor
XIV. Harry Leroy
XV. Robert and his Company
XVI. After the Battle
XVII. Flames in the School-Room
XVIII. Searching for Lost Ones
XIX. Striking Contrasts
XX. A Revelation
XXI. A Home for Mother
XXII. Further Lifting of the Veil
XXIII. Delightful Reunions
XXIV. Northern Experience
XXV. An Old Friend
XXVI. Open Questions
XXVII. Diverging Paths
XXVIII. Dr. Latrobe's Mistake
XXIX. Visitors from the South
XXX. Friends in Council
XXXI. Dawning Affections
XXXII. Wooing and Wedding
XXXIII. Conclusion
Note
CHAPTER I.
MYSTERY OF MARKET SPEECH AND PRAYER-MEETING.
"Good mornin', Bob; how's butter dis mornin'?"
"Fresh; just as fresh, as fresh can be."
"Oh, glory!" said the questioner, whom we shall call Thomas Anderson,
although he was known among his acquaintances as Marster Anderson's Tom.
His informant regarding the condition of the market was Robert Johnson,
who had been separated from his mother in his childhood and reared by
his mistress as a favorite slave. She had fondled him as a pet animal,
and even taught him to read. Notwithstanding their relation as mistress
and slave, they had strong personal likings for each other.
Tom Anderson was the servant of a wealthy planter, who lived in the city
of C----, North Carolina. This planter was quite advanced in life, but
in his earlier days he had spent much of his time in talking politics in
his State and National capitals in winter, and in visiting pleasure
resorts and watering places in summer. His plantations were left to the
care of overseers who, in their turn, employed negro drivers to aid them
in the work of cultivation and discipline. But as the infirmities of age
were pressing upon him he had withdrawn from active life, and given the
management of his affairs into the hands of his sons. As Robert Johnson
and Thomas Anderson passed homeward from the market, having bought
provisions for their respective homes, they seemed to be very
light-hearted and careless, chatting and joking with each other; but
every now and then, after looking furtively around, one would drop into
the ears of the other some news of the battle then raging between the
North and South which, like two great millstones, were grinding slavery
to powder.
As they passed along, they were met by another servant, who said in
hurried tones, but with a glad accent in his voice:--
"Did you see de fish in de market dis mornin'? Oh, but dey war splendid,
jis' as fresh, as fresh kin be."
"That's the ticket," said Robert, as a broad smile overspread his face.
"I'll see you later."
"Good mornin', boys," said another servant on his way to market. "How's
eggs dis mornin'?"
"Fust rate, fust rate," said Tom Anderson. "Bob's got it down fine."
"I thought so; mighty long faces at de pos'-office dis mornin'; but I'd
better move 'long," and with a bright smile lighting up his face he
passed on with a quickened tread.
There seemed to be an unusual interest manifested by these men in the
state of the produce market, and a unanimous report of its good
condition. Surely there was nothing in the primeness of the butter or
the freshness of the eggs to change careless looking faces into such
expressions of gratification, or to light dull eyes with such gladness.
What did it mean?
During the dark days of the Rebellion, when the bondman was turning his
eyes to the American flag, and learning to hail it as an ensign of
deliverance, some of the shrewder slaves, coming in contact with their
masters and overhearing their conversations, invented a phraseology to
convey in the most unsuspected manner news to each other from the
battle-field. Fragile women and helpless children were left on the
plantations while their natural protectors were at the front, and yet
these bondmen refrained from violence. Freedom was coming in the wake of
the Union army, and while numbers deserted to join their forces, others
remained at home, slept in their cabins by night and attended to their
work by day; but under this apparently careless exterior there was an
undercurrent of thought which escaped the cognizance of their masters.
In conveying tidings of the war, if they wished to announce a victory of
the Union army, they said the butter was fresh, or that the fish and
eggs were in good condition. If defeat befell them, then the butter and
other produce were rancid or stale.
Entering his home, Robert set his basket down. In one arm he held a
bundle of papers which he had obtained from the train to sell to the
boarders, who were all anxious to hear from the seat of battle. He
slipped one copy out and, looking cautiously around, said to Linda, the
cook, in a low voice:--
"Splendid news in the papers. Secesh routed. Yankees whipped 'em out of
their boots. Papers full of it. I tell you the eggs and the butter's
mighty fresh this morning."
"Oh, sho, chile," said Linda, "I can't read de newspapers, but ole
Missus' face is newspaper nuff for me. I looks at her ebery mornin' wen
she comes inter dis kitchen. Ef her face is long an' she walks kine o'
droopy den I thinks things is gwine wrong for dem. But ef she comes out
yere looking mighty pleased, an' larffin all ober her face, an' steppin'
so frisky, den I knows de Secesh is gittin' de bes' ob de Yankees.
Robby, honey, does you really b'lieve for good and righty dat dem
Yankees is got horns?"
"Of course not."
"Well, I yered so."
"Well, you heard a mighty big whopper."
"Anyhow, Bobby, things goes mighty contrary in dis house. Ole Miss is in
de parlor prayin' for de Secesh to gain de day, and we's prayin' in de
cabins and kitchens for de Yankees to get de bes' ob it. But wasn't Miss
Nancy glad wen dem Yankees run'd away at Bull's Run. It was nuffin but
Bull's Run an' run away Yankees. How she did larff and skip 'bout de
house. An' den me thinks to myself you'd better not holler till you gits
out ob de woods. I specs 'fore dem Yankees gits froo you'll be larffin
tother side ob your mouf. While you was gone to market ole Miss com'd
out yere, her face looking as long as my arm, tellin' us all 'bout de
war and saying dem Yankees whipped our folks all to pieces. And she was
'fraid dey'd all be down yere soon. I thought they couldn't come too
soon for we. But I didn't tell her so."
"No, I don't expect you did."
"No, I didn't; ef you buys me for a fool you loses your money shore. She
said when dey com'd down yere she wanted all de men to hide, for dey'd
kill all de men, but dey wouldn't tech de women."
"It's no such thing. She's put it all wrong. Why them Yankees are our
best friends."
"Dat's jis' what I thinks. Ole Miss was jis' tryin to skeer a body. An'
when she war done she jis' set down and sniffled an' cried, an' I war so
glad I didn't know what to do. But I had to hole in. An' I made out I
war orful sorry. An' Jinny said, 'O Miss Nancy, I hope dey won't come
yere.' An' she said, 'I'se jis' 'fraid dey will come down yere and
gobble up eberything dey can lay dere hands on.' An' she jis' looked as
ef her heart war mos' broke, an' den she went inter de house. An' when
she war gone, we jis' broke loose. Jake turned somersets, and said he
warnt 'fraid ob dem Yankees; he know'd which side his brad was buttered
on. Dat Jake is a cuter. When he goes down ter git de letters he cuts up
all kines ob shines and capers. An' to look at him skylarking dere while
de folks is waitin' for dere letters, an' talkin' bout de war, yer
wouldn't think dat boy had a thimbleful of sense. But Jake's listenin'
all de time wid his eyes and his mouf wide open, an' ketchin' eberything
he kin, an' a heap ob news he gits dat way. As to Jinny, she jis'
capered and danced all ober de flore. An' I jis' had to put my han' ober
her mouf to keep ole Miss from yereing her. Oh, but we did hab a good
time. Boy, yer oughter been yere."
"And, Aunt Linda, what did you do?"
"Oh, honey, I war jis' ready to crack my sides larffin, jis' to see what
a long face Jinny puts on wen ole Miss is talkin', an' den to see dat
face wen missus' back is turned, why it's good as a circus. It's nuff to
make a horse larff."
"Why, Aunt Linda, you never saw a circus?"
"No, but I'se hearn tell ob dem, and I thinks dey mus' be mighty funny.
An' I know it's orful funny to see how straight Jinny's face looks wen
she's almos' ready to bust, while ole Miss is frettin' and fumin' 'bout
dem Yankees an' de war. But, somehow, Robby, I ralely b'lieves dat we
cullud folks is mixed up in dis fight. I seed it all in a vision. An'
soon as dey fired on dat fort, Uncle Dan'el says to me: 'Linda, we's
gwine to git our freedom.' An' I says: 'Wat makes you think so?" An' he
says: 'Dey've fired on Fort Sumter, an' de Norf is boun' to whip.'"
"I hope so," said Robert. "I think that we have a heap of friends up
there."
"Well, I'm jis' gwine to keep on prayin' an' b'lievin'."
Just then the bell rang, and Robert, answering, found Mrs. Johnson
suffering from a severe headache, which he thought was occasioned by her
worrying over the late defeat of the Confederates. She sent him on an
errand, which he executed with his usual dispatch, and returned to some
work which he had to do in the kitchen. Robert was quite a favorite with
Aunt Linda, and they often had confidential chats together.
"Bobby," she said, when he returned, "I thinks we ort ter hab a
prayer-meetin' putty soon."
"I am in for that. Where will you have it?"
"Lem me see. Las' Sunday we had it in Gibson's woods; Sunday 'fore las',
in de old cypress swamp; an' nex' Sunday we'el hab one in McCullough's
woods. Las' Sunday we had a good time. I war jis' chock full an' runnin'
ober. Aunt Milly's daughter's bin monin all summer, an' she's jis' come
throo. We had a powerful time. Eberythin' on dat groun' was jis' alive.
I tell yer, dere was a shout in de camp."
"Well, you had better look out, and not shout too much, and pray and
sing too loud, because, 'fore you know, the patrollers will be on your
track and break up your meetin' in a mighty big hurry, before you can
say 'Jack Robinson.'"
"Oh, we looks out for dat. We's got a nice big pot, dat got cracked las'
winter, but it will hole a lot o' water, an' we puts it whar we can tell
it eberything. We has our own good times. An' I want you to come Sunday
night an' tell all 'bout the good eggs, fish, and butter. Mark my words,
Bobby, we's all gwine to git free. I seed it all in a vision, as plain
as de nose on yer face."
"Well, I hope your vision will come out all right, and that the eggs
will keep and the butter be fresh till we have our next meetin'."
"Now, Bob, you sen' word to Uncle Dan'el, Tom Anderson, an' de rest ob
dem, to come to McCullough's woods nex' Sunday night. I want to hab a
sin-killin' an' debil-dribin' time. But, boy, you'd better git out er
yere. Ole Miss'll be down on yer like a scratch cat."
Although the slaves were denied unrestricted travel, and the holding of
meetings without the surveillance of a white man, yet they contrived to
meet by stealth and hold gatherings where they could mingle their
prayers and tears, and lay plans for escaping to the Union army.
Outwitting the vigilance of the patrollers and home guards, they
established these meetings miles apart, extending into several States.
Sometimes their hope of deliverance was cruelly blighted by hearing of
some adventurous soul who, having escaped to the Union army, had been
pursued and returned again to bondage. Yet hope survived all these
disasters which gathered around the fate of their unfortunate brethren,
who were remanded to slavery through the undiscerning folly of those who
were strengthening the hands which were dealing their deadliest blows at
the heart of the Nation. But slavery had cast such a glamour over the
Nation, and so warped the consciences of men, that they failed to read
aright the legible transcript of Divine retribution which was written
upon the shuddering earth, where the blood of God's poor children had
been as water freely spilled.