An affray in digging a cellar—Peter sick of a typhus fever nine
months—the kindness of “the gals”—physician’s bill—a methodist
preacher, and a leg of tain’ted mutton—“_master shoots arter him_”
_with a rifle!!_—a bear story—where the skin went to—a glance at
religious operations in that region—“a camp meeting”—Peter tied up in
the woods in the night, and “expects to be eat up by all kinds of wild
varmints”—master a drunkard—owns a still—abuses his family—a story of
blood, and stripes, and groans, and cries—Peter finds ‘Lecta a friend
in need—expects to be killed—Abers intercedes for him, and “makes it
his business”—Mrs. Abers pours oil into Peter’s wounds—Peter goes
back, and is better treated a little while—master tries to stab him
with a pitchfork, and Peter nearly kills him in self-defence—tries the
rifle and swears he will end Peter’s existence now—but the ball don’t
hit—the crisis comes, and that night Peter swears to be free or die in
the cause.
_Author._ “I’ve come up again, Peter, to go on with our story, and you
can drive the peg while I drive the quill.”
_Peter._ “I had as many friends in that region as about any other man, I
reckon, and if it hadn’t been for _one man_, I should have got along
very well; but oh! how cruel master was. As I was a tellin’ on you, we
went on buildin’ the frame house, and in diggin’ the cellar. I was a
holdin’ the scraper and master was drivin’, and a root catched the
scraper and jerked me over under the horse’s heels, and he took the but
end of his whip, and mauled me over the head; and says I, ‘master, I
hold the scraper as well as I can, and I wish you’d git somebody that’s
stronger than me, to do it.’
“‘Come up here,’ says he, as he jumps up out of the cellar, with a
halter in his hand, ‘and I’ll give you somebody that’s strong ’nough for
you.’ Well, I got up, and he makes me strip, and hug an apple tree, and
then ties me round it, and whips me with his ox-goad, while I was stark
naked, _till he’d cut a good many gashes in my flesh, and the blood run
down my heels in streams_; and then he unties me, and _kicks me down
into the cellar_ to hold scraper agin. ☜
“At that, one of his hired men, who was a shovelin’, says, ‘Morehouse,
you are too savage, to use your boy so, I swear!!’ Well, one word
brought on another, till master orders him off of his premises. ‘Out of
the cellar,’ says he, in a rage, for jist so soon as he reproved him, he
biled like a pot, for you know if a body’s doin’ wrong, it makes ’em mad
to be told on it. Well, out he got, and says he, as he jumps out on the
bank, ‘now, Morehouse, if you are _a man_, come out here tu.’ But master
darn’t do that, for he was a small man. ‘Then pay me!’ and master says,
‘I’ll be dam’d if I do.’ ‘Well,’ says the man, ‘I’ll put you in a way to
pay me afore night.’ So it comes night, master rides up and pays him,
and tries to _hire him agin_; but says he, ‘I wouldn’t work for sich a
barbarous wretch, if you’d give me fifty dollars a day.’[5]
Footnote 5:
There are certain _principles_, developed in these facts, which the
reader ought to notice. Abolitionists meet with opposition from the
slaveholder, and his abettors, for the same reason that this man was
cursed by the tyrant who had just lashed Peter! He was angry with the
man, _because he told him the truth_. It excited all the malignity of
a demon in his breast to be rebuked. He knew he was doing _wrong_, and
_conscience_ made the reproof a barbed arrow to his soul, and he raved
_because his pride was mortified_, and he felt disturbed.—So is it
now! The Abolitionists are opposed for the same reason.—They are the
first body of men in America, who have depicted slavery—they have
dissected the fiendish monster, and brought down the contempt of the
world, who love freedom, upon the head of the southern slaveholder.
They have poured light, like a stream of fire, upon the whole South,
and disturbed the consciences of the buyers and sellers of souls. And
we see the malignity of hell itself boiling out of the southern mouth,
and southern press; and politicians and religious (?) editors, and
ministers of the gospel, are all _pressed_ into the vile and low-lived
business of bolstering up tyrants upon their unholy thrones, and
propping up the darkest, and blackest system of oppression that ever
existed on earth. These men have not been needed _before_, their help
was not called for;—for nothing was being done to break down slavery.
The Colonization Society, met with a different fate at the South, and
for this reason it was sustained by all slaveholders who knew the
policy. It was the best friend the slaveholder ever had—it kept the
consciences of the tyrants quiet—it was a healing plaster just large
enough for the sore.—And some of the most distinguished slaveholders
in the United States, some of them officers of the American
Colonization Society, and the most liberal donors of its funds, told
the author of this note, that, _they considered the Society the
firmest support slavery had in the world_, for ‘twould keep the North
and the South quiet about _their peculiar institutions_. “The
Society,” said one of them, who was at the time a member of the United
States Senate, “_has carried away about three thousand or four
thousand niggers in twenty years, and the increase has been over half
a million. Now, Sir, I can afford, on selfish principles, to give ten
thousand dollars a year to that Society, rather than have it go down;
for when it goes down, slavery will go with it, and it will go down
just as soon as it loses the confidence of the people of the
North!!!!!!!_ ☜ Very good reason why slaveholders should support
Colonization!!!!!! There is not the fain’test doubt in creation, that
the great mass of the South wish slavery, under the circumstances, to
continue; and they make war against the Abolitionists because they
want it to stop, and are doing all they can to put it down; (for this
is the definition of an Abolitionist;) just as the drunkard makes war
upon the Temperance Reformation, because it strikes a blow at his
idol; just as infidels oppose revivals, because they disturb their
consciences, and make infidelity contemptible. Now, I hesitate not to
say, that no system of principles, or measures, will ever do away with
slavery, except that system which meets with the determined, and
combined opposition of slaveholders, and those who are interested in
sustaining the system. For the system that destroys slavery, must aim
a deadly blow at selfishness, and this will excite malignity, and this
will show itself out in the gall that is poured upon Abolitionists,
from the cowardly and sophistical apologies of Pro-Slavery Princeton
Divines, down to the hard, but not convincing arguments of brick-bats.
The truth is, that the South oppose Abolition, not because “it has put
back emancipation,” as the New York Observer says,—for, in that case,
its champions would be found south of “Mason’s and Dixon’s line,”—but,
because Abolition has a direct, and decided, and tremendous influence
in hurling the system of heathenish, and cruel oppression to the
ground. _But there are some, a noble, an immortal few, hearts in the
South_ who are waiting for the consolation of Africa, who bless God
for every prayer we offer, and for every convert we gain. And the
prayers of every man, and woman, in the slaveholding states, who longs
for the freedom of the slave, follow the Abolitionists, and contribute
to the spread and triumph of our principles.
“By being exposed, and abused, and whipped, and almost starved and
frozen to death, through the winter, in the spring I was took down with
the typhus fever, and lay on a bed of straw, behind the back kitchen
door, six months, almost dead; and the doctor come to see me every day,
and finally says he to master, ‘if you want that boy to git well, you
must give him a decenter place to lay than all that comes tu, for
’tain’t fit for a sick dog.’
“So the gals moved me up stairs, in their arms, and there I lay. They
was kind to me durin’ my sickness, but master was very indifferent, and
didn’t seem to care whether I lived or died. Well, the gals, one
pleasant day in the fall, took me in their arms, and carried me down
stairs, and put me in a little baby wagon, and drew me ’bout twenty rods
and back, and then took me up stairs agin’, oh! how tired I was, and
they did that every day, till I got so I could walk about, and I shall
always remember it in ’em, tu.
“Well, in ’bout two months arter this, I got so I could work a leetle,
and one day Doctor Walker comes in with his bill of seventy odd dollars;
and master says he, ‘_I wish the dam_ _nigger had died, and then I
shouldn’t had this money to pay._’ Master payed him off arter some
_jawing_; but oh! how savage master was to me arter this![6]
Footnote 6:
One would think that so long a time for reflection, would have
softened the poor tyrant’s heart—but it is no easy matter to eradicate
the tyranny which is fostered in the bosom of the possessor of
irresponsible power.
“Well, next Sunday a Methodist preacher comes along, and was agoin’ to
preach at Ingen Fields. And so he and his wife come down to dine with
us, and we cooked a leg of mutton we had on hand, for dinner, and got it
on the table, and all sets down, and master begins to cut it, and come
tu, ’twas distressedly tain’ted round the bone, and smelled bad.
“Well, master orders it off the table; and I goes and knocks over five
chickens, and dresses ’em, and friccazeed them in a hurry, and got ’em
on to the table; and I guess we didn’t hinder ’em mor’n half an hour.
“Well, nobody could stand the mutton, it stunk so; but master tells the
folks to give me nothin’ else to eat; and I eat, and eat away upon it,
day after day, as long as I could; and then I’d tear off bits, and hide
’em in my bosom, and carry ’em out, and fling ’em away, to git rid on
it; and one night, when it stunk so bad it fairly knocked me down, I
takes the _whole frame_ and leaves for the lot with it, and buries it;
and thinks, says I, _now_ the old mutton leg won’t trouble me any
more.—— ☞ But it happened, that a few days arter this, that we was
ploughin’ that lot, and he was holdin’ the plough; and fust he knows, up
comes the mutton leg, and fust he looks at it, and then at me, and takes
it up, and scrapes the dirt off on it—and oh! how he biled!—and says he,
‘You black devil, what did you hide that mutton for?’ And he took the
whip out of my hand, and cut me with it a few times; and says I,
‘Master, I won’t stand this;’ and off I run towards the house, and he
arter, as fast as we could clip it; and he into the house and gits the
rifle, and I see it, and oh! how I cleared the coop into the lots; and
as I was a goin’ over a knoll, he let strip arter me, and I hears the
ball whistle over my head. I tell ye, how it come!—and I scart enemost
to death.
“Well, I wanders round a while, my heart a pittepattin’ all the time,
and finally, comes back to the house. But I see him a comin’ with the
rifle agin’ as I got into the lot, and I fled for shelter into the shell
of an old hemlock-tree left standin’, (you’ve seen such arter a lot is
burnt,) and he see me, and he let strip agin’, and whiz went the ball
through the old shell, about a foot over my head, for I’d squat down,
and if I hadn’t he’d a fixed me out as stiff as a maggot. He comes up,
and sings out, ‘You dead, nigger?’ ‘Yis, Sir.’
“‘Well, what do ye speak for, then, you black cuss?’ Then he catches
hold on me, and drags me out, and beats me with a club, till _I was dead
for arnest, enemost_; and then, lookin’ at the hole in the tree, he
turns to me, lyin’ on the ground, and says, ‘Next time I’ll bore a hole
through _you_, you black son of a bitch. Now drive that team, and
straight, tu, or you’ll catch a junk of lead into you.’
“Well, I hobbled along, and we ploughed all day; and come night, I
boohooed and cried a good deal, and the children gits round me, and
asks, ‘What’s the matter, Peter?’ I tells ’em, ‘Master’s been a poundin’
on me, and then he shot arter me, and I don’t know what he will do
next.’ Julia speaks, and says, ‘I declare it’s a wonder the devil don’t
come and take father off.’
“He orders the family not to give me any supper; but arter he’d gone to
bed, the gals comes along, and one on ’em treads on my toe, and gin me
the wink, and I know’d what it meant; and so I goes into the wood-house,
and finds a good supper laid on a beam, where I’d got many a good bite;
and went off to bed with a heavy heart.
“But, as I hate to be a tellin’ bloody stories all the time, I’ll jist
give you a short one ’bout a bear; for I was as mighty a hand for bears
as ever ye see.
“One night I went along arter my cows into the woods, a whistlin’ and a
singin’ along, with the rifle on my shoulder, a listenin’ for my
cow-bell, but couldn’t hear nothing on it; and so on I goes a good ways,
and hears nothin’ yit; and I’d hearn old-fashioned people say, you must
clap your ear down on the ground to hear your cow-bell, and I did, and I
hears it away towards the house; and so for home I starts; and it gits
to be kind’a duskish; and the first thing I hears or sees, was right
afore me, a great _big black bear_, that riz right up out of the
scrub-oaks, and stood on his hind feet; and I was so scart, I didn’t
know how to manage the business; and there I stood atwixt two evils; one
way I was ‘fraid of the dark, and t’other I was ‘fraid of the bear; and
finally, I starts and runs from him, and he jist then down on his legs
and put arter me. Well, I turns round and faces him, and he riz up on
his hind feet agin’, and kind’a growled. Atwixt me and him, there was a
small black oak staddle, and thinks I to myself, if I can git to that, I
can hold my gun steady ’nough to shoot him; but then I was afeard I
shouldn’t _kill him_; and if I didn’t he’d _kill me_. However, I starts
for the staddle; and he kind’a growled, and wiggled his short tail, and
seemed to be tickled to think I was a comin’ towards him. As quick as I
got up to the staddle, I cocked my piece, and aimed right at his
brisket, atwixt his fore legs, as near as I could, and fired—_and run_;
and never looked behind me, to see whether I’d killed my adversary or
not, and put for the house as fast I could. Well, up I come to the
house, so short-winded, that I puffed and blowed like a steamboat; and
old master says he, ‘What you shot, nigger?’
“‘A bear, Sir.’
“‘Where is he?’
“‘In the scrub-oaks, out there; and I b’lieve I _killed_ him, tu.’
“‘Killed him? you black puppy; go and git t’other rifle, and load it.’
And I goes. ‘Now,’ says he, ‘start back for your bear; and if you han’t
shot any, I’ll shoot _you_.’ And so back I goes; and master follows
along behind me, half scared to pieces, for fear my _dead_ bear would
bite him.
Well, come to the scrub-oaks, there lay my bear a strugglin’, with his
fore-paws hold on a scrub-oak, a twistin’ it round and round, and _then_
master steps up, as resolute as an Ingen warrior, to shoot him, and he
first made me fire into his head, and then he fired into his heart; and
when we’d killed him _dead_, we draws him to the house and skins him;
and I think ’twas the fattest bear I ever see in all my life.
Well, that fall master went to Philadelphia, and he takes that skin with
five others I’d killed, that he’d already got the premium on, and sold
’em in Philadelphia—and in all, they come to over one hundred dollars,
bounty, skins, and all, to say nothin’ at all ’bout _meat_; and he never
gin me a Bungtown copper out of the whole. _No_, not enough to buy a
pinch of snuff, or a chew of tobacco.”[7]
Footnote 7:
Another exemplification of the abominable doctrine of the right of
property in man! Concede this right, and his master did right, and
Peter ought not to complain.
A. “Were there any churches in that region?”
P. “Yis, Sir; there was two of our gals belonged to the Methodist
meetin’—Julia and Polly, and I used to have to drive them to meetin’
every other Sunday, to a place about four or five miles off, towards
Auburn, called Plane Hill. Every season we used to have a Camp meetin’,
at what’s called Scipio Plains, and used to have to go and strike a tent
and carry down the family, and wait on ’em till the meetin’ was over.
Well, the most I can recollect about them meetin’s was, they used to
make a despod hollerin’ and shoutin’. Some would sing ‘glory
hallelujah,’ and ‘amen,’ and some, ‘I can see Jesus Christ, I see him a
comin’, I see him a comin’,’ and I was jist fool enough to look and see
if I could see him, but I never see anything.
“One Camp meetin’ we had I went to, and paid strict ‘tention, and it
seemed to me that a part of the sarmint was aimed at me, _straight_, but
I was so ignorant that I didn’t take the sense on it. In what they calls
their ‘prayin’ circles,’ there was a colored man—quite an old man, but
mighty good, for he made a great prayer; and while he prayed, a good
many old and young cried, and shed a good many tears. Well, seein’ them
cry, made me cry, I ‘spose, for I can’t assign any other reason; and
this colored man see me cryin’ and he comes to me and says he, ‘my son,
do you want religion?’ ‘Yis, Sir,’ says I, ‘what is religion?’ He speaks
in a kind of a broken language, and says, ‘Religion is to do as we
do—sing and shout and pray, and call on God; and don’t you want us to
pray for you?’
“‘Yis, Sir,’ says I, ‘I wants every body to pray for me.’
“So he speaks to a minister, and says I wants to be prayed for; and so
they gits into a ring, and crowds round me like a flock of sheep round a
man that’s got a salt dish. I don’t want to make a _wrong comparison_,
but I can’t think of nothin’ else so near like it. Then this white
minister tells me I must git down on my knees; and so down I gits, and
they begins to pray, and shout, and sing, and clap their hands, and I
was scart, and looked two or three times to git a chance to cut stick
and be off, but I couldn’t find a place to git out of the ring; and I
tell ye, thinks says I, _‘if this is religion, I’ve got ’nough on it,
and I’ll be off_.’ They prayed God would send his ‘_power_,’ and convart
that ’ere colored boy; and so while they was shoutin’ right down hard
for me, one of our gals, Polly, I believe, gits what they calls ‘the
power,’ and they kind’a left me and went over to her; but some on ’em
stuck by me, but they didn’t seem _nigh so thick_, and I was right glad
of that, I tell ye, and as quick as I got a chance, I got out of the
ring, and made tracks, and cut like a white head; and when I got a goin’
I didn’t stop till I got down to the horses, and that was half a mile;
and when I got there, the old woman that kept the tavern (she knew me)
says, ‘why, Peter! what’s the matter?’
“‘Matter,’ says I ‘matter enough; they got me into a ring up there, and
scart me half to pieces, and I made off, I tell ye; and if scarein’
folks makes ’em religious, I’ll be a good Christian arter this as any on
’em, for they scart me _like tarnation_.’ Well, goin’ home that night,
the gals talked to me a good deal ’bout religion. They used to be a good
deal more religiouser ’bout Camp meetin’ times than any other times, and
they’d try to git me to pray, and larn me how; and come up into my
chamber arter the old folks had gone to bed, to tell me ’bout religion,
and all that; and so, arter this meetin’ I used to pray some, and when I
went arter my cows, I’d git behind some big tree, and pray as well as I
knew how, and so every time I got a chance, I’d keep it up, for six or
seven months, and then I’d git all over it, and I could swear as bad as
ever; and by this time the gals had got kind’a cold, and didn’t say much
’bout religion; and that’s the history of all my religion then. And
arter this _scare_ I tell on, I didn’t have any more religious fits very
soon.
“Prayin’ in the woods makes me think of bein’ _tied up_ there. Once
master gits mad with me, cause I didn’t plane cherry boards ’nough, and
he takes me out into the woods, and ties me up, ’bout dark, and says he,
‘now stay there, you black devil, till mornin’.’ Well, _he’d whipped me
raw afore this_, and there ’twas dark as pitch, and the woods full of
all kinds of live varmints,—a sore back, and enemost starved; and I tell
ye if I didn’t scream jist like a good fellow, I’ll give up. I hollered
jist as loud as I could bawl, and there I stayed a good while, afeared
of bein’ eat up by varmints every minute. Finally, a man who hears me,
comes up and says, ‘whose there?’
“‘Peter,’ says I.
“‘And what’s the matter?’
“‘Matter ’nough! Master’s _whipped me raw_, and enemost starved me, and
tied me up, and is a goin’ to keep me here all night.’
“‘No, he ain’t ‘nother.’ And at that he out with a big jack-knife, and
cut the rope; and I says, ‘Thank’ee, Sir;’ and off he went. But I warn’t
much better off now, for I darn’t go to the house, for there I should
git it worse yit; and so I went to the fence, so if any wild thing come
arter me, I could be _on the move_; and there I stood, and hollered, and
bawled, and screamed, till I thought it must be near mornin’; and
finally, one of the gals comes out to untie me; and if ever I was glad
to see a woman’s face, ’twas then; but if there’d been fifty wild beasts
within a mile on me, they’d been so scart by my bawlin’, that they’d
made tracks t’other way.
“But up to ’bout this time, I used to have some sunny days, when I’d
enjoy myself pretty well. But I don’t think that for five years, my
wounds, of his make, fairly healed up, afore he tore ’em open agin’ with
an ox-goad, or cat-o’-nine-tails, and made ’em bleed agin’. But I’ve not
told you the worst part of the story yit. Master got to be more savage
than ever, and so cruel, that it did seem that I couldn’t live with him.
He got to be a _dreadful drunkard_, and ☞ owned a share in a still; ☜
and he used to keep a barrel of whiskey in his cellar all the time; and
he’d git up airly in the mornin’, and take jist enough to make him
cross; and then ’twas ‘here, nigger,’ and ‘there, nigger,’ and ‘every
where, nigger,’ at once.
“He got to be sheriff, and then he drinked worse than ever; and when he
come home, he used to ‘buse his wife and family, and beat the fust one
he’d come to; and I’d generally be on the move, if my eyes was open,
when he got home, for he’d thrash me for nothin’. And I’ve seen him whip
his gals arter they got big enough to be _young women grown_, in his
drunken fits; and many a time I’ve run out, and stayed round the barn,
for hours and hours, till I was _nearly froze_, from fear on him; only,
sometimes, when I _knew_ he _would thrash_ somebody, he was _so_ savage,
_I’d stay in doors, and_ _let his rage bile over on me, rather than on
the gals_; _for I couldn’t bear to have them beat so_.
“One day he tells me to git up the team, and go to drawin’ wood to the
door. I used to have nothin’ to eat generally, but buttermilk and samp,
except, now and then, a good bite from some of the gals or neighbors.
The buttermilk used to be kept in an old-fashioned Dutch barrel-churn,
till ’twas sour enough to make a pig squeal. Well, I drawed wood all
day, and one of the coldest in winter, and eat nothin’ but a basin of
buttermilk in the mornin’, and so at night I goes to put out the team,
and he says, ‘Nigger, don’t put out that team yit; go and do your
chores, and then put up ten bushels of wheat, and go to mill with it,
and bring it back to-night _ground_, or _I’ll whip your guts out_.’
“Well, I hadn’t had any dinner or supper, and it was a tremendous cold
night; but ‘Lecta puts into the sleigh one of these old-fashioned
cloaks, with a hood on it, and says she, ‘Don’t put it on till you git
out of sight of the house, and here’s two nut-cakes; and, if I was in
your place, I wouldn’t let the horses creep, for it’s awful cold, and
I’m ‘fraid you’ll freeze.’
“Well, I come to the mill, which was ten miles off, and told the miller
my story, and what master said, with tears in my eyes; for my spirit had
got so kind’a broken by my hard lot, that I didn’t seem to have anything
manly about me. ☞ Oh! how you can degrade a man, if you’ll only make him
a slave! ☜
“The miller says, ‘Peter, you shall have your grist as soon as
possible.’ And I set down by the furnace of coals, he kept by the
water-wheel to keep it from freezin’, and begun to roast kernels of
wheat, for I was dreadful hungry. He axed me to go in and eat; but I
didn’t want to. And so about twelve o’clock at night I got my grist, and
starts for home, and gits there, and takes good care of every thing; and
then I begins to think about my own supper. The folks was all abed and
asleep; but I finds a basin of buttermilk and samp down in the
chimney-corner, and I eats that; and, if any thing, it makes me hungrier
than I was afore; and I sets down over the fire, and begins to
_think_![8] ☜
Footnote 8:
_Thought_ must ultimately prove the destruction of all oppression. Man
is a being of intellect; and if his mind is not so benighted by
darkness, or be-numbed by oppression, light will find its way into his
soul; and his natural love of freedom, and his consciousness of his
inalienable rights, will show him the claims of justice, and the deep
and awful guilt of slavery; and then he will win his way to liberty,
either by _flight_ or _blood_. Humanity may be so _chafed_ by repeated
acts of cruelty and abuse, that any means will _seem justifiable_, in
the sight of the being who is to use _some_ means for his release, if
he ever ceases to groan. It is wisdom, then, to make the slave free
while we _can_; for, as sure as God made man for freedom, so sure he
will ultimately be free, in one way or another.
“I had had many a time of thinkin’ afore, but I had never before _felt_
master’s _cruelty_ as I felt it now. Here he was, a rich man; and I had
slaved myself to death for him, and been a thousand times more faithful
in his business than I have ever been in my own; and yit I must
_starve_. I felt the _natur’ of injustice most keenly_, and _I bust into
tears_, for I felt kind’a broken-hearted and desolate. But I thought
_tears wouldn’t ever do the work_! ☜ I axed myself if I warn’t a _man_—a
human bein’—one of God’s crutters: and I riz up, detarmined to have
justice! ☜ ‘And now,’ says I, ‘I may as well die for an old sheep as a
lamb; and if there is any thing in this house that can satisfy my
starvation, I’ll have it, if it costs me my life.’
“So I starts for the cupboard, and finds it locked, and I up with one of
my feet and staves one of the panels through in the door, and there was
every thing good to eat; and so I eat till I got my _fill_ of beef, and
pork, and cabbage, and turnips and ‘taters; and then I laid into the
nicknacks, sich as pies, cakes, cheese and sich like. Well, arter I’d
done and come out, and set down by the fire, master opens his bedroom
door and sings out, ‘away with you to bed, you black infernal nigger
you, and I’ll settle with you in the mornin’, and he ripped out some
oaths that fairly made my wool rise on end, and then shets the door.
Well, thinks I, if I am to die, and I expected he’d kill me in the
mornin’, I’ll go the length of my rope, and die on a full stomach. So I
goes to an old-fashioned tray of nut-cakes, and stuffs my bosom full on
’em, and carries ’em up stairs, and puts ’em in my old straw bed, and I
knew nobody ever touched that but Pete Wheeler, and I crawled in and I
had a plenty of time to think. ☜
“In the mornin’ the old man gits up and makes up a fire, a thing he
hadn’t done afore in all winter, and then comes to the head of the
stairs, and calls for ‘his nigger;’ and I hears a crackin’ in the
fire,—and he’d cut a parcel of _withes_—walnut, of course, and run ’em
into the ashes, and wythed the eends on ’em under his feet, and takes
’em along,—and a large rope,—and hits me a cut and says, ‘out to the
barn with me, nigger;’ and so I follows him along.
“Well, come to the barn, the first thing he swings the big doors open,
and the north wind swept through like a harricane. ‘Now,’ says he,
‘nigger, pull off your coat;’ I did.
“‘Now pull off your jacket, nigger;’ I did.
“‘Now off with your shirt, nigger;’ I did.
“‘Now off with your pantaloons, nigger;’ I did.
“‘And be dam quick about it too.’
“Arter I gits ’em off, he crosses my hands, and ties ’em together with
one end of a rope, and throws the other end up overhead, across a beam,
and then draws me up by my hands till I clears the floor two feet. He
then crosses my feet jist so, and puts the rope through the bull-ring in
the floor, and then pulls on the rope till I was drawn _tight_—till my
bones fairly snapped, and ties it, and then leaves me in that doleful
situation, and goes off to the house, and wanders round ’bout twenty
minutes; and there the north wind sweeps through: oh! how it stung; and
there I hung and cried, and the tears fell and froze on my breast, and I
wished I was _dead_. But back he comes, and says he, as he takes up a
_withe_, ‘now, you dam nigger, I’m a goin’ to settle with you for
breaking open the cupboard,’ and he hits me four or five cuts with one
and it broke; and he catches up another, and he cut all ways, cross and
back, and one way and then another, and he whipped me till the blood run
down my legs, and froze in long blood isicles on the balls of my heels,
as big as your thumb!! ☜ !! and I hollered and screamed till I was past
hollerin’ and twitchin’, for when he begun, I hollered and twitched
dreadfully; and my hands was swelled till the blood settled under my
nails and toes, and one of my feet hain’t seen a well day since: and I
cried, and the tears froze on my cheeks, and I had got almost blind, and
so stiff I couldn’t stir, and near dyin’. How long he whipped me I can’t
tell, for I got so, finally, I couldn’t tell when he _was_ a whippin’ on
me!!! ‘Oh! Mr. L.——,’ “said Peter, as the tears rolled down his wrinkled
cheeks, while the picture of that scene of blood again came up vividly
before his mind, “‘oh! Mr. L.——, it was a sight to make any body that
has got any feelin’ weep; and there I hung, and he goes off to the
house, and arter a while, I can’t tell how long, he comes back with a
tin cup full of brine, heat up, and says he, ‘now nigger, I’m goin’ to
put this on to keep you from mortifyin,’ and when it struck me, it
brought me to my feelin’, I tell ye; and then, arter a while, he lets me
down and unties me, and goes off to the house.
“Well, I couldn’t stand up, and there the barn doors was open yit, and I
was so stiff and lame, and froze, it seemed to me I couldn’t move at
all. But I sat down, and begins to rub my hands to get ’em to their
feelin’, so I could use ’em, and then my legs, and then my other parts,
and my back I couldn’t move, for ’twas as stiff as a board, and I
couldn’t turn without turnin’ my whole body; and I should think I was in
that situation all of an hour, afore I could git my clothes on.
“At last I got my shirt on, and it stuck fast to my back, and then my
t’other clothes on, and then I gits up and shuts the barn doors, and
waddles off to the house; and he sees me a comin’, and hollers out
‘nigger, go and do your chores, and off to the woods.’
“Well, I waddled round, and did my chores as well as I could, and then
takes my axe and waddles off to the woods, through a deep snow. I gits
there, and cuts down a large rock oak tree, and a good while I was ’bout
it, tu, and my shirt still stuck fast to my back. I off with one eight
foot cut, and then flung my axe down on the ground, and swore I’d _die_
afore I cut another chip out of that log that day; and I gets down and
clears away the snow on the sunny side of the log, and sets down on the
leaves, and a part of the time I sighed, and a part of the time I cried,
and a part of the time I swore, and wished myself dead fifty times.
“Well, settin’ there I looked up and to my surprise I see a woman comin’
towards me; and come to, it turned out to be my old friend ‘Lecta, and
the first thing she says, when she comes up was, ‘ain’t you _most dead_,
Peter?’ ‘Yis, and I wish I was _quite_, Miss ‘Lecta;’ and she cries and
I cries, and she sets down on the log and says, ‘Peter, ain’t you
hungry? here’s some victuals for you;’ and she had some warm coffee in a
coffee-pot, and some fried meat, and some bread, and pie, and cheese,
and nut-cakes; and says she to me, ‘Peter, eat it _all_ up if you can.’
A. “Why! Peter what would become of the world, if it warn’t, for the
women?”
P. “Why, Sir, they’d _eat each other up_, and what they didn’t _eat_,
they’d _kill_. Then they keep the men back from doin’ a great many
ferocious things. Why, only ‘tother day when that duel was fit in
Washington, between Graves and Cilley, the papers say that Mrs. Graves,
when she found out that the duel was a comin’ on, tried to stop her
husband, but he wouldn’t hear to her, and so he went on, and killed poor
Cilley, and made his wife a widder, and his children orphans. Now, only
think how much misery would have been spared, if he’d only heard to his
wife.
“‘Well,’ says ‘Lecta, ‘I wouldn’t strike another stroke to day.’ And
then to be undiscovered, she goes up to a neighbor’s and stays there all
day. So at night I goes home, and does my chores the best way I could.
So I carries in a handful of wood, and master says, ‘how much wood you
cut, nigger?’ ‘I don’t know, Sir.’ ‘One load?’ ‘I don’t know, Sir.’ ‘How
many trees you cut down!’ ‘One, Sir.’ ‘You cut it up?’ ‘No, Sir.’ ‘Well,
tell me how much you have cut, dam quick, tu.’ ‘One log off, Sir.’ At
that he catches up his cane, and throws on his great coat, and fetches a
heavy oath, and starts off for the woods. I sets down in the corner,
with a dreadful ticklin’ round my heart; and the children kept a lookin’
out of the winder, to see him comin’, and in he comes, _frothy_, he was
so mad. Mistress says to him, ‘possup,’ which means, ‘stop,’ I ‘spose,
and then he went into the other room to supper.
Finally, I crawls into my nest of rags, and I laid on my face all night,
I couldn’t lay any other way; and next mornin’ after tryin’ several
times, I made out to git up and go down, and do my chores.
“Arter breakfast, Mr. Abers, his brother-in-law, come down, and says he,
‘Gideon, what’s your notion in torturin’ this boy, so? If you want to
kill him, why not take an axe and put him out of his misery?’ Master
says, ‘is it any of your business?’ ‘Yis, Sir, ’tis my business, and the
business of every human bein’ not to see you torture that boy so. You
know he’s faithful, and every body knows it, and a smarter boy you can’t
find any where of his age.[9] Master then colours up, with wrath, and
says, ‘you or any body else, help yourself! I’ll do with my nigger as I
please—he’s my property, ☜ and I have a right to use my own property, as
I please. You lie, that it’s any of your business to _interfere_ with my
concerns.’[10]
Footnote 9:
Here is Abolition, and its opposition in a nut-shell. Abolitionists,
are those who claim that if a fellow-man is suffering, it is the
_business_ of his brother to help him, if possible, and in the best
way he can. Accordingly, we lift up our voice against the abominations
that are done in this land of _chains, and whips, and heathenism, and
slaves_! Who are our opposers, and revilers, and enemies? They are men
who _don’t believe it to be their business_, to interfere with the
rights of the slave breeder, and slave buyer, and slaveholder, of the
United States. Their creed will let them stand by and look at a
brother bleeding, and groaning, and dying under a worse than high-way
robbery, and yet ’twill bind their arms if they would extend a helping
hand—’twill stop their mouths if they wish to plead for the dumb. Oh!
my soul! who that respects the claims of humanity, ain’t ashamed to
disgrace man so? What philanthropist who wants to see all men rise
high in virtue, and happiness, ain’t ashamed to hold one set of
principles for _men_ in _freedom_, and another for _men in chains_.
What christian don’t blush, to urge as an excuse for chilling and
freezing his sympathies for the slave, “the legislation of the country
forbids me to help a brother in distress.”
Footnote 10:
The old corner stone of the whole edifice—☞ _property in man_. ☜ This
reply of the master, is just like the low, and vile swaggering and
bragging of the South, that has so long intimidated the time-serving
_politician of the North, with Southern principles_, and the
dough-faced christian with infidel principles. There is something
humiliating in the thought, that the South has been able always to put
down the rising spirit of freedom at the North, by brags and swagger!
☜ Ever since the early days of the Revolution, when Adams and Hancock,
and Ames, and Franklin, tried to get the South to wash her hands from
the blood of oppression, and be clean, bluster, and noise, and brags
have crushed our efforts. And these same patriots, noble in every
thing else, were dragooned into submission, and this Moloch of the
South was worshipped by the signers of the greatest instrument the
world ever saw. And, as the compromise _must go on_, an unholy
alliance was formed between liberty and despotism; and as the price
paid for the temple’s going up, tyranny has made a great niche in our
temple of freedom, and there this strange god is worshipped by
freemen. Oh! God! what blasphemy is here? tyranny and liberty
worshipped together! offerings made to the God of heaven, and the
demon of oppression on the same altar!
Nullification lifted its brags and boasts, and swagger, and the North
gave up her principles. And because the South has always succeeded,
they already boast of victory over all the Abolitionists of the North,
and expect either that they have accomplished the work of crushing
them, or that they can do it just when they please. But the South will
find that since the days of Jay, and Adams, liberty has _grown
strong_, and when the great struggle comes, they will see that there
are but two parties on the field,—a few slave-driving, slave-breeding
tyrants covered with blood, unrighteously shed, at war with the
combined powers of the world. The principles of Abolition, have
ennobled the human mind, and in all the world’s history, cannot be
found a body of men, who have endured so much obloquy and abuse, with
so much unflinching firmness, and manly fortitude, as the
Abolitionists. They are not to be awed by swagger, nor stopped by
brags. No! thanks to our Leader, the Lord Jesus Christ, who died to
break every chain in creation, the work of human freedom must go
forward; and the South has no more power to stop the progress of
light, and principles of liberty in this age, than the progress of the
sun in the heavens. The great guiding principle of all the benevolence
in the world is, to interfere to save a brother from distress and
tyranny.—Every reform must interfere with tyranny: ’twas so with
christianity in its establishment—with the Reformation—with our
Revolution—and shall be so—for christianity makes it man’s business to
interfere with every usurpation, and system of tyranny and invasion of
human rights, until every yoke shall be broken in the entire dominions
of God.
“‘Don’t, you give me the lie again,’ says Abers, ‘or I’ll give you what
a liar deserves.’ Well, master give him the lie agin, and Abers took him
by the nape of the neck and by the britch of his clothes, and flings him
down on the floor, as you would a child, (for master was a small man,)
and he pounds him and kicks him and bruises him up _most egregiously_
and then starts for the door and says, ‘come along with me, Peter, you
are agoin’ to be my boy a spell, and I’ll see if this is your fault, or
‘_master’s_’ as _you_ call him.’
“So I picks up my old hat, there warn’t any crown in it, but swindle tow
stuffed in, and goes along with him. I gits there, and Mrs. Abers,
master’s sister, says, ‘my dear feller, ain’t you almost dead?’
“So arter breakfast, for Mr. Abers had come down afore breakfast, and I
sets down and eats with ’em, Mrs. Abers takes a leetle skillet, and
warms some water, and then she tries to pull my shirt off, and it stuck
fast to my back, and so she puts in some castile soap-suds all over my
back, and I finally gits it off, and all the wool that had come off of
my old homespun shirt of wool, and the hairs of this, sticks in the
wounds, and so she takes and picks ’em all out, and washes me with a
sponge very carefully, but oh! how it hurt.—Arter this she takes a piece
of fine cambric linen, and wets it in sweet ile, and lays it all over my
back, and I felt like a new crutter; and then I went to bed and slept a
good while, and only got up at sundown to eat, and then to bed agin. So
next mornin’ she put on another jist like it, and I stayed there a
fortnight and had my ease, and lived on the fat of the land tu, I tell
ye.”
A. “Didn’t your master come after you, Peter?”
P. “Oh! no, Sir; he had all he could do to take care of the bruises
Abers gin him. So one Monday mornin’ he tells me I had better go home to
master’s. Well, I begins to cry, and says, ‘I’ll go, but master will
whip me to death, next time.’ ‘No he won’t,’ says Abers. ‘You go and do
your chores, and be a good boy; and I’ll be over bim’bye, and see how
you git along.’
“Well, as soon as I got home, I opened the door, and mistress says, ‘You
come home agin’, have you, you black son of a bitch?’
“‘Yes, ma’am; and how does master do?’
“‘None of your business, you black skunk, you.’
“So master finds I’d got home, and he sends one of the children out
arter me; and in I goes, and finds him on his bed yit. He speaks, ‘You
got home, have you?’ ‘Yis, Sir; and how does master do?’ ‘Oh! I’m
_almost dead_, Peter;’ and he spoke as mild as _you_ do. And I says,
‘I’m dreadful sorry for you;’ and I _lied, tu_. So I pitied him, and
pretended to feel bad, and cry. And he says, ‘You must be a good boy,
and take good care of the stock, till I gets well.’ And so out I goes to
the barn, and sung, and danced, and felt as tickled as a boy with a new
whistle, to think master had got a good bruisin’ as well as myself, and
I’d got on my taps first.
“Well, for six months he was a kind of a decent man; he’d speak kind’a
pleasant—for he was so ‘fraid of Abers, that he darn’t do any other way.
“Next winter followin’, I was in the barn thrashin’; and, as I stood
with my back to the south door, a litter of leetle white pigs comes
along, and goes to eatin’ the karnels of wheat that fell over master’s
barn door sill; and I was kind’a pleased to see sich leetle fellers,
they always seemed so kind’a _funny_; and the fust thing I knew, he
struck me over the head with one of these ’ere old-fashioned pitchforks,
and I fell into the straw jist like a pluck in a pail of water. I
gathers as quick as I could, arter I found out I was down, and he stood,
with a fork in his hand, and swore if I stirred, he’d knock me down, and
pin me to the floor.
“I run out of the big door, and he arter me, with the fork in his hand;
and he run me into the snow, where ’twas deep, and got me to the fence,
where I was up to my middle in snow, and couldn’t move; and he was a
goin’ to thrust arter me, and I hollers, and says, ‘Master, _don’t_
stick that into me.’ ‘I _will_, you black devil.’ I see there was no
hope for me; and I reaches out, and got hold of a stake, and as I took
hold on it, as ’twas so ordered, _it come out_; and, as he made a plunge
arter _me_, I struck arter him with this stake, and hit him right across
the _small of his back_; and the way I did it warn’t slow; and he fell
into the snow like a dead man; and he lay there, and didn’t stir, only
one of his feet _quivered_; and I began to grow scart, for fear he was
dyin’; and I was tempted to run into the barn, and dash my head agin’ a
post, and dash my brains out; and the longer I stood there, the worse I
felt, for I knew for murder a body must be hung.
“But bim’bye he begun to gasp, and gasp, and catch his breath; and he
did that three or four times; and then the blood poured out of his
mouth; and he says, as soon as he could speak, ‘Help me, Peter.’ And I
says, ‘I shan’t.’ And he says agin’, in a low voice, ‘Oh! help me!’ I
says, ‘I’ll see the devil have you, afore I’ll help you, you old
heathen, you.’ And at that he draws a dreadful oath, that fairly made
the snow melt; and says agin’, ‘Do you help me, you infernal cuss.’ I
uses the same words agin’; and he tells me, ‘if you don’t, I’ll kill you
as sure as ever I get into the house.’
“Soon he stood clear up, and walked along by the fence, and drew himself
by the rails to the house; and I went to thrashin’ agin’. Pretty soon
‘Lecta comes out to the barn, and says, ‘Peter, father wants to see
you.’ I says, ‘If he wants to see me mor’n I want to see him, he must
come where I be;’ and I had a dreadful oath with it. And she speaks as
mild as a blue-bird, and says, ‘Now, Peter, ‘tend to me. You know I’m
always good to you; now if you don’t mind, you’ll lose a friend.’ That
touches my feelin’s, and I starts for the house; but I ’spected to be
_killed_ as sure as I stepped across the _sill_.
“Well, I entered the old cellar-kitchen; and mistress locks the door,
and puts the key in her side-pocket; and master set in one chair, and
his arm a restin’ on another, as I set now, and he raises up, and takes
down the rifle that hung in the hooks over his head on a beam; and _I
knew I was a dead man_, for I had loaded it a few days afore for a bear;
and says he, as he fetches it up to his face, and cocks it, and pints it
right at my heart. ‘Now, you dam nigger, I’ll end your existence.’
“Now death stared me right in the face, and I knew I had nothin’ to
lose; and the minute he aimed at me, I jumped at him like a _streak_,
and run my head right atwixt his legs, and catched him, and flung him
right over my head a tumblin’, and I did it as quick as lightnin’; and,
as he fell, _the rifle went off_, and bored two doors, and lodged in the
wall of the bedroom; and I flew and _on_ to him, and clinched hold on
his souse, and planted my knees in his belly, and jammed his old head up
and down on the floor, and the way I did it warn’t to be beat.
“Well, by this time, old mistress come, and hit me a slap on the
backsides, with one of these ’ere old-fashioned Dutch fire-slices, and
it didn’t set very asy ‘nother; but I still hung on to one ear, and
fetched her a _side-winder_ right across the bridge of her old nose, and
she fell backwards, and out come the key of the door out of her pocket;
and ‘Lecta got the key, and run and opened the door—for the noise had
brought the gals down like fury; and I gin his old head one more mortal
jam with both hands, and pummelled his old belly once more hard, and
leaped out of the door, and put out for the barn.
“At night I come back, and there was somethin’ better for my supper than
I had had since I lived there. I set down to eat; and he come out into
the kitchen with his cane, and cussed, and swore, and ripped, and tore;
and I says, ‘Master, you may cuss and swear as much as you please; but
on the peril of _your life_, don’t you lay a finger on me;’ and there
was a big old-fashioned butcher-knife lay on the table, and I says to
him, ‘Just as sure as you do, I’ll run that butcher-knife through you,
and clinch it.’ I had the worst oath I ever took in all my life, and
spoke so savage, that I fairly _scart him_.
“I told him to give me a paper to look a new master; for you see, there
was a law, that if a slave, in them days, wanted to change masters, on
account of cruelty, that his old master must give him a paper, and he
could git a new one, if he could find a man that would buy him. At fust
he said he would give me a paper in the mornin’, but right off he says,
‘No, I swear I won’t; _I’ll have the pleasure of killin’ on you
myself!_’ ☜
“So he cussed, and finally, went into the other room; and the gals says,
‘Peter, now is your time; stick to him, and you’ll either make it better
or worse for you.’
“So I goes off to bed, and takes with me a walnut flail swingle; and I
crawled into my nest of rags, and lay on my elbow all night; and if a
rat or a mouse stirred, I trembled, for I expected every minute he’d be
a comin’ up with a rifle to shoot me; and I didn’t sleep a wink all that
night. And I swore to Almighty God, that the fust time I got a chance
I’d clear from his reach; and I prayed to the God of freedom to help me
get free.”
A. “Well, Peter, it’s late now, and we’ll leave that part of the story
for another chapter.”[11]
Footnote 11:
All this is a true picture of slavery and oppression, all over the
globe. Man is not fit to possess _irresponsible power_—God never
designed it; and every experiment on earth has proved the awful
consequence of perverting God’s design. I know it will be said by
almost every reader, who closes this chapter, that this was an
isolated and peculiar case; but I know, from observation, that there
is nothing at all peculiar in it to the system of slavery; and when
the judgment day shall come, and the history of every slaveholder is
opened, in letters of fire, upon the gaze of the whole universe, that
there will be something peculiarly dark and awful in every chapter of
oppression which the universe shall see unfolded. And if I could quote
but one text of God’s Bible, in the ear of every slaveholder in
creation, it would be that astounding assertion—“When he maketh
inquisition for blood he remembereth them.”
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