A NEW HOME.
BECOME A METHODIST PREACHER.--MY POOR COMPANIONS SOLD.--MY
AGONY.--SENT FOR AGAIN.--INTERVIEW WITH A KIND METHODIST
PREACHER.--VISIT FREE SOIL AND BEGIN MY STRUGGLE FOR
FREEDOM.
I arrived at Davis county, Kentucky, about the middle of April,
1825, and delivered myself and my companions to Mr. Amos Riley, the
brother of my owner, who had a large plantation, with from eighty to
one hundred negroes. His house was situated about five miles south
of the Ohio River, and fifteen miles above the Yellow Banks, on Big
Blackfords Creek. There I remained three years, expecting my master
to follow, and was employed meantime on the farm, of which I had the
general management, in consequence of the recommendation for ability
and honesty which I brought with me from Maryland. The situation
was, in many respects, more comfortable than that I had left. The
farm was larger and more fertile, and there was a greater abundance
of food, which is, of course, one of the principal sources of the
comfort of a slave, debarred as he is from so many enjoyments which
other men can obtain. Sufficiency of food is a pretty important item
in any man's account of life; but is tenfold more so in that of the
slave, whose appetite is always stimulated by as much labor as he can
perform, and whose mind is little occupied by thought on subjects of
deeper interest. My post of superintendent gave me some advantages,
too, of which I did not fail to avail myself; particularly with
regard to those religious privileges, which, since I first heard of
Christ and Christianity, had greatly occupied my mind. In Kentucky
the opportunities of attending on the preaching of whites, as well
as of blacks, were more numerous; and partly by attending them, and
the camp-meetings which occurred from time to time, and partly from
studying carefully my own heart, and observing the developments of
character around me, in all the stations of life which I could watch,
I became better acquainted with those religious feelings which are
deeply implanted in the breast of every human being, and learned by
practice how best to arouse them, and keep them excited, how to stir
up the callous and indifferent, and, in general, to produce some good
religious impressions on the ignorant and thoughtless community by
which I was surrounded.
No great amount of theological knowledge is requisite for the purpose.
If it had been, it is manifest enough that preaching never could have
been my vocation; but I am persuaded that, speaking from the fulness
of a heart deeply impressed with its own sinfulness and imperfection,
and with the mercy of God, in Christ Jesus, my humble ministrations
have not been entirely useless to those who have had less opportunity
than myself to reflect upon these all important subjects. It is
certain that I could not refrain from the endeavor to do what I saw
others doing in this field; and I labored at once to improve myself
and those about me in the cultivation of the harvests which ripen
only in eternity. I cannot but derive some satisfaction, too, from
the proofs I have had that my services have been acceptable to those
to whom they have been rendered. In the course of three years, from
1825 to 1828, I availed myself of all the opportunities of improvement
which occurred, and was admitted as a preacher by a Quarterly
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church.
In the spring of the year 1828, news arrived from my master that
he was unable to induce his wife to accompany him to Kentucky, and
that he must therefore remain where he was. He sent out an agent to
sell all his slaves, except me and my family, and to carry back the
proceeds to him. And now another of those heart-rending scenes was
to be witnessed, which had impressed itself so deeply on my childish
soul. Husbands and wives, parents and children, were to be separated
forever. Affections, which are as strong in the African as in the
European, were to be cruelly disregarded; and the iron selfishness
generated by the hateful "institution," was to be exhibited in its
most odious and naked deformity. I was exempted from a personal share
in the dreadful calamity; but I could not see, without the deepest
grief, the agony which I recollected in my own mother, and which was
again brought before my eyes in the persons with whom I had been long
associated; nor could I refrain from the bitterest feeling of hatred
of the system, and those who sustain it. What else, indeed, can be
the feeling of the slave, liable at every moment of his life to these
frightful and unnecessary calamities, which may be caused by the
caprice of the abandoned, or the supposed necessities of the better
part of the slaveholders, and inflicted upon him without sympathy or
redress, under the sanction of the laws which uphold the institution?
As I surveyed this scene, and listened to the groans and outcries of
my afflicted companions, the torments of hell seized upon me. My eyes
were opened, and the guilty madness of my conduct in preventing them
from availing themselves of the opportunity for acquiring freedom,
which offered itself at Cincinnati, overwhelmed me. This, then, was
the reward and end of all my faithfulness to my master. I had thought
of him only and his interests, not of them or their welfare. Oh! what
would I not have given to have had the chance offered once more! And
now, through me, were they doomed to wear out life miserably in the
hot and pestilential climate of the far south. Death would have been
welcome to me in my agony. From that hour I saw through, hated, and
cursed the whole system of slavery. One absorbing purpose occupied my
soul--freedom, self-assertion, deliverance from the cruel caprices
and fortunes of dissolute tyrants. Once to get away, with my wife
and children, to some spot where I could feel that they were indeed
_mine_--where no grasping master could stand between me and them, as
arbiter of their destiny--was a heaven yearned after with insatiable
longing. For it I stood ready to pray, toil, dissemble, plot like
a fox, and fight like a tiger. All the noble instincts of my soul,
and all the ferocious passions of my animal nature, were aroused and
quickened into vigorous action.
The object of my old master Riley in directing that I and my family
should be exempted from the sale, was a desire on his part to get me
back to Maryland, and employ me in his own service. His best farms had
been taken away from him, and but a few tracts of poor land remained.
After his slaves had been run off, he cultivated these with hired
labor, and month by month grew poorer and more desperate. He had
written to his brother Amos to give me a pass and let me travel back;
but this his brother was reluctant to do, as I saved him the expense
of an overseer, and he moreover knew that no legal steps could be
taken to force him to comply. I knew of all this, but dared not seem
anxious to return, for fear of exciting suspicion.
In the course of the summer of 1828, a Methodist preacher, a most
excellent white man, visited our neighborhood, and I became acquainted
with him. He was soon interested in me, and visited me frequently,
and one day talked to me in a confidential manner about my position.
He said I ought to be free; that I had too much capacity to be
confined to the limited and comparatively useless sphere of a slave;
"and though," said he, "I must not be known to have spoken to you
on this subject, yet if you will obtain Mr. Amos's consent to go to
see your old master in Maryland, I will try and put you in a way by
which I think you may succeed in buying yourself." He said this to me
more than once; and as it was in harmony with all my aspirations and
wishes, was flattering to my self-esteem, and gratified my impatience
to bring matters to a direct issue, I now resolved to make the attempt
to get the necessary leave. The autumn work was over, I was no longer
needed in the fields, and a better chance would never offer itself.
Still I dreaded to make the proposal. So much hung on it, such fond
hopes were bound up with it, that I trembled for the result.
I opened the subject one Sunday morning while shaving Mr. Amos, and
adroitly managed, by bringing the shaving brush close into his mouth
whenever he was disposed to interrupt me, to "get a good say" first.
Of course I made no allusion to my plan of buying myself; but urged
my request on the sole ground of a desire to see my old master. To my
surprise he made little objection. I had been faithful to him, and
gained, in his rude way of showing it, his regard. Long before spring
I would be back again. He even told me I had earned such a privilege.
The certificate he gave me allowed me to pass and repass between
Kentucky and Maryland as servant of Amos Riley. Furnished with
this, and with a letter of recommendation from my Methodist friend
to a brother preacher in Cincinnati, I started about the middle of
September, 1828, for the east.
A new era in my history now opened upon me. A letter I carried with
me to a kind-hearted man in Cincinnati procured me a number of
invaluable friends, who entered heart and soul into my plans. They
procured me an opportunity to preach in two or three of the pulpits of
the city, and I made my appeal with that eloquence which spontaneously
breaks forth from a breast all alive and fanned into a glow by an
inspiring project. Contact with those who were free themselves, and
a proud sense of exultation in taking my destiny into my own hands,
gave me the sacred "gift of tongues." I was pleading an issue of
life and death, of heaven and hell, and such as heard me felt this
in their hearts. In three or four days I left the city with no less
a sum than one hundred and sixty dollars in my pockets, and with a
soul jubilant with thanksgiving, and high in hope, directed my steps
towards Chillicothe, to attend the session of the Ohio Conference of
the Methodist Episcopal Church. My kind friend accompanied me, and by
his influence and exertions still further success attended me.
By his advice I then purchased a decent suit of clothes and an
excellent horse, and travelled from town to town preaching as I went.
Everywhere I met with kindness. The contrast between the respect
with which I was treated and the ordinary abuse, or at best insolent
familiarity, of plantation life, gratified me in the extreme, as it
must any one who has within him one spark of personal dignity as a
man. The sweet enjoyment of sympathy, moreover, and the hearty "God
speed you, brother!" which accompanied every dollar I received, were
to my long starved heart a celestial repast, and angels' food. Liberty
was a glorious hope in my mind; not as an escape from toil, for I
rejoiced in toil when my heart was in it, but as the avenue to a sense
of self-respect, to ennobling occupation, and to association with
superior minds. Still, dear as was the thought of liberty, I still
clung to my determination to gain it in one way only--by purchase. The
cup of my affliction was not yet full enough to lead me to disregard
all terms with my master.