it was to be succeeded by a harrowing scene, the inevitable consequence
of our being left slaves. We must now be separated and divided into
different lots, as we were inherited by the four sons of my master. It
is no easy matter to amicably divide even the old furniture and worn-out
implements of husbandry, and sometimes the very clothing of a deceased
person, and oftentimes a scene of shame ensues at the opening of the
will of a departed parent, which is enough to cause humanity to blush at
the meanness of man. What then must be the sufferings of those persons,
who are to be the objects of this division and strife? See the heirs of
a departed slaveholder, disputing as to the rightful possession of human
beings, many of them their old nurses, and their playmates in their
younger days! The scene which took place at the division of my master’s
human property, baffles all description. I was then only thirteen years
of age, but it is as fresh in my mind as if but yesterday’s sun had
shone upon the dreadful exhibition. My mother was separated from her
youngest child, and not until she had begged and pleaded most piteously
for its restoration to her, was it again placed in her hands. Turning
her eyes fondly upon me, who was now to be carried from her presence,
she said, “You now see, my son, the fulfilment of what I told you a
great while ago, when I used to take you on my knee, and show you the
leaves blown from the trees by the fearful winds.” Yes, I now saw that
one after another were the slave mother’s children torn from her
embrace, and John was given to one brother, Sarah to another, and Jane
to a third, while Samuel fell into the hands of the fourth. It is a
difficult matter to satisfactorily divide the slaves on a plantation,
for no person wishes for _all_ children, or for all old people; while
both old, young, and middle aged ones are to be divided. There is no
equitable way of dividing them, but by allowing each one to take his
portion of both children, middle aged and old people; which necessarily
causes heart-rending separations; but “slaves have no feelings,” I am
sometimes told. “You get used to these things; it would not do for us to
experience them, but you are not constituted as we are;” to which I
reply, that a slave’s friends are _all_ he possesses that is of value to
him. He cannot read, he has no property, he cannot be a teacher of
truth, or a politician; he cannot be very religious, and all that
remains to him, aside from the hope of freedom, that ever present deity,
forever inspiring him in his most terrible hours of despair, is the
society of his friends. We love our friends more than white people love
theirs, for we risk more to save them from suffering. Many of our number
who have escaped from bondage ourselves, have jeopardized our own
liberty, in order to release our friends, and sometimes we have been
retaken and made slaves of again, while endeavoring to rescue our
friends from slavery’s iron jaws.
But does not the slave love his friends! What mean then those frantic
screams, which every slave-auction witnesses, where the scalding tears
rush in agonizing torrents down the sorrow-stricken cheeks of the
bereaved slave mother; and where clubs are sometimes used to drive apart
two fond friends who cling to each other, as the merciless slave-trader
is to separate them forever. O, to talk of our not having feelings for
our friends, is to mock that Being who has created us in his own image,
and implanted deep in every human bosom, a gushing fount of tender
sensibilities, which no life of sin can ever fully erase. Talk of our
not having feelings, and then calmly look on the scene described as
taking place when my master died! Have you any feeling? Does this
recital arouse those sympathetic feelings in your bosom which you make
your boast of? How can white people have hearts _of tenderness_, and
allow such scenes to daily transpire at the South? All over the
blackened and marred surface of the whole slave territory do these
heart-rending transactions continually occur. Not a day inscribes its
departing hours upon the dial of human existence, but it marks the
overthrow of more than one family altar, and the sundering of numerous
family ties; and yet the hot blood of Southern oppression is allowed to
find its way into the hearts of the Northern people, who politically and
religiously are doing their utmost to sustain the dreadful system; yea,
competing with the South in their devotion to the evil genius of their
country’s choice. Slavery reigns and rules the councils of this nation,
as Satan presides over Pandemonium, and the loud and clear cry of the
anti-slavery host, calling upon the people of the land to cease their
connection with the tyrannical system, is universally unheeded. It falls
upon the closed ears of the people of this nation like the noise of the
random shots of a vessel at sea, upon the ears of the captain of the
opposing squadron, but to arouse them to action in _opposition_ to the
utterance of the voice of warning.
What though the plaintive cries of three millions of heart-broken and
dejected captives, are wafted on every Southern gale to the ears of our
Northern brethren, and the hot winds of the South reach our fastnesses
amid the mountains and hills of our rugged land, loaded with the stifled
cries and choking sobs of poor desolate woman, as her babes are torn one
by one from her embrace; yet no Northern voice is heard to sound loudly
enough among our hills and dales, to startle from their sleep of
indifference, those who have it in their power to break the chains of
the suffering bondmen _to-day_, saying to all who hear its clear
sounding voice, “Come out from all connection with this terrible system
of cruelty and blood, and form a government and a union free from this
hateful curse.” The Northern people have it in their power to-day, to
cause all this suffering of which I have been speaking to cease, and to
cause one loud and triumphant anthem of praise to ascend from the
millions of panting, bleeding slaves, now stretched upon the plains of
Southern oppression; and yet they talk of our being destitute of
feeling. “O shame, where is thy blush!”
My father and mother were left on the plantation, and I was taken to the
city of Richmond, to work in a tobacco manufactory, owned by my master’s
son William, who now became my only master. Old master, although he did
not give me my freedom, yet left an especial charge with his son to take
good care of me, and not to whip me, which charge my master endeavored
to act in accordance with. He told me if I would behave well he would
take good care of me, and would give me money to spend, &c. He talked so
kindly to me that I determined I would exert myself to the utmost to
please him, and would endeavor to do just what he wished me to, in every
respect. He furnished me with a new suit of clothes, and gave me money
to buy things with, to send to my mother. One day I overheard him
telling the overseer that his father had raised me, and that I was a
smart boy, and he must never whip me. I tried extremely hard to perform
what I thought was my duty, and escaped the lash almost entirely;
although the overseer would oftentimes have liked to have given me a
severe whipping; but fear of both me and my master deterred him from so
doing. It is true, my lot was still comparatively easy; but reader,
imagine not that others were so fortunate as myself, as I will presently
describe to you the character of our overseer; and you can judge what
kind of treatment, persons wholly in his power might expect from such a
man. But it was some time before I became reconciled to my fate, for
after being so constantly with my mother, to be torn from her side, and
she on a distant plantation, where I could not see or but seldom hear
from her, was exceedingly trying to my youthful feelings, slave though I
was. I missed her smiling look when her eye rested upon my form; and
when I returned from my daily toil, weary and dejected, no fond mother’s
arms were extended to meet me, no one appeared to sympathize with me,
and I felt I was indeed alone in the world. After the lapse of about a
year and a half from the time I commenced living in Richmond, a strange
series of events transpired. I did not then know precisely what was the
cause of these scenes, for I could not get any very satisfactory
information concerning the matter from my master, only that some of the
slaves had undertaken to kill their owners; but I have since learned
that it was the famous Nat Turner’s insurrection that caused all the
excitement I witnessed. Slaves were whipped, hung, and cut down with
swords in the streets, if found away from their quarters after dark. The
whole city was in the utmost confusion and dismay; and a dark cloud of
terrific blackness, seemed to hang over the heads of the whites. So true
is it, that “the wicked flee when no man pursueth.” Great numbers of the
slaves were locked in the prison, and many were “half hung,” as it was
termed; that is, they were suspended to some limb of a tree, with a rope
about their necks, so adjusted as not to quite strangle them, and then
they were pelted by the men and boys with rotten eggs. This half-hanging
is a refined species of cruelty, peculiar to slavery, I believe.
Among the cruelties occasioned by this insurrection, which was however
some distance from Richmond, was the forbidding of as many as five
slaves to meet together, except they were at work, and the silencing of
all colored preachers. One of that class in our city, refused to obey
the imperial mandate, and was severely whipped; but his religion was too
deeply rooted to be thus driven from him, and no promise could be
extorted from his resolute soul, that he would not proclaim what he
considered the glad tidings of the gospel. (Query. How many white
preachers would continue their employment, if they were served in the
same way?) It is strange that more insurrections do not take place
among the slaves; but their masters have impressed upon their minds so
forcibly the fact, that the United States Government is pledged to put
them down, in case they should attempt any such movement, that they have
no heart to contend against such fearful odds; and yet the slaveholder
lives in constant dread of such an event.[3]
The rustling of
“---- ---- ---- the lightest leaf,
That quivers to the passing breeze,”
fills his timid soul with visions of flowing blood and burning
dwellings; and as the loud thunder of heaven rolls over his head, and
the vivid lightning flashes across his pale face, straightway his
imagination conjures up terrible scenes of the loud roaring of an
enemy’s cannon, and the fierce yells of an infuriated slave population,
rushing to vengeance.[4] There is no doubt but this would be the case,
if it were not for the Northern people, who are ready, as I have been
often told, to shoot us down, if we attempt to rise and obtain our
freedom. I believe that if the slaves could do as they wish, they would
throw off their heavy yoke immediately, by rising against their masters;
but ten millions of Northern people stand with their feet on their
necks, and how can they arise? How was Nat Turner’s insurrection
suppressed, but by a company of United States troops, furnished the
governor of Virginia at his request, according to your Constitution?
About this time, I began to grow alarmed respecting my future welfare,
as a great eclipse of the sun had recently taken place; and the cholera
reaching the country not long after, I thought that perhaps the day of
judgment was not far distant, and I must prepare for that dreaded event.
After praying for about three months, it pleased Almighty God, as I
believe, to pardon my sins, and I was received into the Baptist Church,
by a minister who thought it was wicked to hold slaves. I was obliged to
obtain permission from my master, however, before I could join. He gave
me a note to carry to the preacher, saying that I had _his permission_
to join the church!
I shall now make you acquainted with the manner in which affairs were
conducted in my master’s tobacco manufactory, after which I shall
introduce you to the heart-rending scenes which give the principal
interest to my narrative.
My master carried on a large tobacco manufacturing establishment in
Richmond, which was almost wholly under the supervision of one of those
low, miserable, cruel, barbarous, and sometimes religious beings, known
under the name of overseers, with which the South abounds. These men
hardly deserve the name of men, for they are lost to all regard for
decency, truth, justice and humanity, and are so far gone in human
depravity, that before they can be saved, Jesus Christ, or some other
Saviour, will have to die a second time. I pity them sincerely, but as
my mind recurs to the wicked conduct I so often witnessed on the part
of this one, I cannot prevent these indignant feelings from arising in
my soul. O reader, if you had seen the perfect recklessness of conduct
so often exhibited by this man, as I witnessed it, you would not blame
me for expressing myself so strongly. I know that even this man is my
brother, but he is a very wicked brother, whose soul I commend to
Almighty God, hoping that his sovereign grace may find its way, if it is
a possible thing, to his sin-hardened soul; _and yet he was a pious
man_. His name was _John F. Allen_, and I suppose he still lives in
Richmond. After reading about his character, I apprehend your judgment
of him will coincide with mine. The other overseers, however, were very
different men, for hell could hardly spare more than one such man, for
one tobacco manufactory; as it is not overstocked with such vile
reprobates.
But before proceeding to speak farther of him, I will inform you a
little respecting our business--as not many of you have ever seen the
inside of a tobacco manufactory. The building I worked in was about 300
feet in length, and three stories high, and afforded room for 200 people
to work in, but only 150 persons were employed, 120 of whom were slaves,
and the remainder free colored people. We were obliged to work
_fourteen_ hours a day, in the summer, and _sixteen_ in the winter.
This work consisted in removing the stems from the leaves of tobacco,
which was performed by women and boys, after which the tobacco was
moistened with a liquor made from liquorice and sugar, which gives the
tobacco that sweetish taste which renders it not perfectly abhorrent to
those who chew it. After being thus moistened, the tobacco was taken by
the men and twisted into hands, and pressed into lumps, when it was sent
to the machine-house, and pressed into boxes and casks. After remaining
in what was called the “sweat-house” about thirty days, it was shipped
for the market.
Mr. Allen was a thorough going Yankee in his mode of doing business. He
was by no means one of your indolent, do-nothing Southerners, so
effeminate as to be hardly able to wield his hands to administer to his
own necessities, but he was a savage-looking, dare-devil sort of a man,
ready apparently for any emergency to which Beelzebub might call him, a
real servant of the bottomless pit. He understood how to turn a penny as
well as any Yankee pedlar who ever visited our city. Whether he derived
his skill from associating with that class of individuals, or whether it
was the natural production of his own cunning mind, I know not. He used
often to boast, that by his shrewdness in managing the negroes, he made
enough to support his family, which cost him $1000, without touching a
farthing of his salary, which was $1500 per annum. Of the probability of
this assertion, I can bear witness; for I know he was very skilful in
another department of cunning and cheatery. Like many other servants of
the evil one, he was an early riser; not for the purpose of improving
his health, or that he might enjoy sweet communion with his heavenly
Father, at his morning orisons, but that “while the master slept” he
might more easily transact his nefarious business. At whatever hour of
the morning I might arrive at the factory, I seldom anticipated the
seemingly industrious steps of Mr. Allen, who by his punctuality in
this respect, obtained a good reputation as a faithful and devoted
overseer. But mark the conduct of the pious gentleman, for he was a
member of an Episcopalian church. One would have supposed from observing
the transactions around him, that Mr. Allen took time by the forelock,
emphatically, for long before the early rays of the rising sun had
gilded the eastern horizon, was this man busily engaged in loading a
wagon with coal, oil, sugar, wood, &c., &c., which always found a place
of deposit at _his own door_, entirely unknown to my master. This
practice Mr. Allen carried on during my stay there, and yet he was a
very pious man.
This man enjoyed the unlimited confidence of my master, so that he would
never listen to a word of complaint on the part of any of the workmen.
No matter how cruel or how _unjust_ might be the punishment inflicted
upon any of the hands, master would never listen to their complaints; so
that this barbarous man was our master in reality. At one time a colored
man, who had been in the habit of singing religious songs quite often,
was taken sick and did not make his appearance at the factory. For two
or three days no notice whatever was taken of him, no medicine provided
for him, and no physician sent to heal him. At the end of that time, Mr.
Allen ordered three strong men to go to the man’s house, and bring him
to the factory. This order being obeyed, the man, pale and hardly able
to stand, was stripped to his waist, his hands tied together, and the
rope fastened to a large post. The overseer then questioned him about
his singing, told him that it consumed too much time, and that he was
going to give him some medicine which would cure him. The poor trembling
man made no reply, when the pious Mr. Allen, for no crime except that of
sickness, inflicted 200 lashes upon the quivering flesh of the invalid,
and he would have continued his “apostolic blows,” if the emaciated form
of the languishing man, had not sunken under their heavy weight, and Mr.
Allen was obliged to desist.[5] I witnessed this transaction with my own
eyes; but what could I do, for I was a slave, and any interference on my
part would only have brought the same punishment upon me. This man was
sick a month afterwards, during which time the weekly allowance of
seventy-five cents for the hands to board themselves with, was withheld
from him, and his wife was obliged to support him by washing for others;
and yet Northern people tell me that a slave is better off than a free
man, because when he is sick his master provides for him! Master knew
all the circumstances of this case, but never uttered one word of
reproof to the overseer, that I could learn; at any rate, he did not
interfere at all with this cruel treatment of him, as his motto was,
“Mr. Allen is always right.”
Mr. Allen, although a church member, was much addicted to the habit of
_profane swearing_, a vice which church members there, indulged in as
frequently as non-professors did. He used particularly to expend his
swearing breath, in denunciation of the whole race of negroes, calling
us “d----d hogs, dogs, pigs,” &c. At one time, he was busily engaged in
reading in _the Bible_, when a slave came in who had absented himself
from work the enormous length of ten minutes! The overseer had been
cheated out of ten minutes’ precious time; and as he depended upon the
punctuality of the slave to support his family in the manner mentioned
previously, his desire perhaps not to violate that precept, “he that
provideth not for his family is worse than an infidel,” led him to
indulge in quite an outbreak of boisterous anger. “What are you so late
for, you black scamp?” said he to the delinquent. “I am only ten minutes
behind the time, sir,” quietly responded the slave, when Mr. Allen
exclaimed, “You are a d----d liar,” and remembering, for aught that I
can say to the contrary, that “he that converteth a _sinner_ from the
error of his ways, shall save a soul from death,” he proceeded to try
the effect of the Bible upon the body of the “liar,” striking him a
heavy blow in the face, with the sacred book. But that not answering his
purpose, and the man remaining incorrigible, he caught up a stick and
beat him with that. The slave complained to master, but he would take no
notice of him, and directed him back to the overseer.
Mr. Allen, although a superintendent of the Sabbath school, and very
fervid in his exhortations to the slave children, whom he endeavored to
instruct in reference to their duties to their masters, that they must
never disobey them, or lie, or steal, and if they did they would
assuredly “go to hell,” yet was not wholly destitute of “that fear which
hath torment,” for always when a heavy thunder storm came up, would he
shut himself up in a little room where he supposed the lightning would
not harm him; and I frequently overheard him praying earnestly to God to
spare his life. He evidently had not that “perfect _love_ which casteth
out fear.” The same day on which he had beaten the poor sick man, did
such a scene transpire; but generally after the storm had abated he
would laugh at his own conduct, and say he did not believe the Lord had
any thing to do with the thunder and lightning.
As I have stated, Mr. A. was a devout attendant upon public worship, and
prayed much with the pupils in the Sabbath school, and was indefatigable
in teaching them to repeat the catechism after him, although he was very
particular never to allow them to hold the book in their hands. But let
not my readers suppose on this account, that he desired the salvation of
these slaves. No, far from that; for very soon after thus exhorting
them, he would tell his visiters, that it was “a d----d lie that
colored people were ever converted,” and that they could “not go to
heaven,” for they had no souls; but that it was his duty to talk to them
as he did. The reader can learn from this account of how much value the
religious teaching of the slaves is, when such men are its
administerers; and also for what purpose this instruction is given them.
This man’s liberality to white people, was coextensive with his
denunciation of the colored race. A white man, he said, could not be
lost, let him do what he pleased--rob the slaves, which he said was not
wrong, lie, swear, or any thing else, provided he _read the Bible and
joined the Church_.[6]
One word concerning the religion of the South. I regard it as all
delusion, and that there is not a particle of religion in their
slaveholding churches. The great end to which religion is there made to
minister, is to keep the slaves in a docile and submissive frame of
mind, by instilling into them the idea that if they do not obey their
masters, they will infallibly “go to hell;” and yet some of the
miserable wretches who teach this doctrine, do not themselves believe
it. Of course the slave prefers obedience to his master, to an abode in
the “lake of fire and brimstone.” It is true in more senses than one,
that slavery rests upon hell! I once heard a minister declare in public,
that he had preached six years before he was converted; and that he was
then in the habit of taking a glass of “mint julep” directly after
prayers, which wonderfully refreshed him, soul and body. This dram he
would repeat three or four times during the day; but at length an old
slave persuaded him to abstain a while from his potations, the following
of which advice, resulted in his conversion. I believe his second
conversion, was nearer a true one, than his first, because he said his
conscience reproved him for having sold slaves; and he finally left that
part of the country, on account of slavery, and went to the North.
But as time passed along, I began to think seriously of entering into
the matrimonial state, as much as a person can, who can “make no
contract whatever,” and whose wife is not his, only so far as her master
allows her to be. I formed an acquaintance with a young woman by the
name of Nancy--belonging to a Mr. Lee, a clerk in the bank, and a pious
man; and our friendship having ripened into mutual love, we concluded
to make application to the powers that ruled us, for _permission_ to be
married, as I had previously applied for permission to join the church.
I went to Mr. Lee, and made known to him my wishes, when he told me, he
never meant to sell Nancy, and if my master would agree never to sell
me, then I might marry her. This man was a member of a Presbyterian
church in Richmond, and pretended to me, to believe it wrong to separate
families; but after I had been married to my wife one year, his
conscientious scruples vanished, and she was sold to a saddler living in
Richmond, who was one of Dr. Plummer’s church members. Mr. Lee gave me a
note to my master, and they afterwards discussed the matter over, and I
was allowed to marry the chosen one of my heart. Mr. Lee, as I have
said, soon sold my wife, contrary to his promise, and she fell into the
hands of a very cruel mistress, the wife of the saddler above mentioned,
by whom she was much abused. This woman used to wish for some great
calamity to happen to my wife, because she stayed so long when she _went
to nurse her child_; which calamity came very near happening afterwards
to herself. My wife was finally sold, on account of the solicitations of
this woman; but four months had hardly elapsed, before she insisted upon
her being purchased back again.