St. Louis Exchange--Inspection of Human Chattels--Artizan
Slaves--Scenes and Proceedings of the Auction--Sale of the Men.
Finding that another slave-auction was to be held at noon next day in
the St. Louis Exchange, I resolved to attend. The day was dull and
dirty. "Please, sir," said I to the first man I met, "to tell me where
St. Louis Exchange is?" "Don't know, sir." I walked on a little
further, and tried again. "Please to direct me to St. Louis Exchange?"
"Can't; but it's somewhere in that direction," pointing with his
finger. "Is this the way to St. Louis Exchange?" I asked a third. "I
guess it is," was the curt and characteristic reply. "How far is it?"
"Three blocks further on; then turn to your right; go a little way
down, and you will find it on your left." I went as directed, and came
to an immense building--a kind of hotel. There were nearly a dozen
entrances, all leading into one vast saloon, where I found about 200
gentlemen,--some drinking, some eating, some smoking, some reading,
some talking, and all spitting. One end of the saloon was fitted up as
a refreshment place, similar to those on railway stations in England.
But I could see nothing like preparations for a sale.
On looking around I perceived a large door in two halves, with spring
hinges, leading as it were further into the building. I pushed one half
open, and found myself in a spacious circular hall,--its roof, ending
in a dome, supported by a suitable number of massive columns. The floor
was tastefully paved with black and white marble, and all the light
came from the dome. Some 100 gentlemen were sauntering about, and now
and then turning to several groupes of black people to ask them
questions. This place was evidently fitted up for auctioneering
purposes, and seemed peculiarly adapted for man-selling. At equal
distances were a dozen elevated desks for the chief actors, each with a
small platform in front for the exhibition of the articles of sale.
It was a quarter to twelve, by the clock that faced the entrance door,
when I got in. Anxious to know what kind of questions were put to the
slaves, I pushed myself into the knots of intending purchasers, just as
if I had been one of them. The inquiries, I found, related to place of
birth, subsequent removals, competency for work, and so forth. The
answers presented a fearful view of the extent to which the internal
slave-trade is carried on. Most of the slaves said they had been
"raised" in Virginia and Kentucky. To avoid the suspicion of being a
spy, I resolved to put a few questions too. I found myself at the
establishment where those named in the advertisement which had drawn me
thither were to be disposed of. A pile of handbills--each containing an
exact copy of the advertisement, and a French translation--was lying on
the platform. Taking one up, I observed the name of "Squires, a
carpenter." Assuming all the confidence I could muster, I said, "Which
is Squires?" "I'm here, sir." "You are a carpenter, are you not?" "Yes,
sir," (with a very polite bow). "And what can you do?" "I can trim a
house, sir, from top to bottom." "Can you make a panelled door?" "Yes,
Sir." "Sash windows?" "Yes, sir." "A staircase?" "Yes, sir." I gave a
wise and dignified nod, and passed on to another groupe. In my
progress, I found by one of the platforms a middle-aged black woman,
and a mulatto girl of perhaps eighteen crouching by her side. "Are you
related to each other?" I said. "No, sir." "Have you lived long in the
city?" I said to the younger. "About two years, sir; but I was 'raised'
in South Carolina." "And why does your owner sell you?" "Because I
cannot cut--she wants a cutter--I can only sew." I then returned to the
groupe at platform No. 1.
The clock was striking twelve; and, before it had finished, the vast
dome reverberated with the noise of half-a-dozen man-sellers bawling at
once, disposing of God's images to the highest bidders. It was a
terrible din. But, at our platform, business proceeded rather
leisurely. Two gentlemen ascended the desk: the one of a light
complexion, about fifty-five years of age, rather fat, whiskers and
beard smoothly shaven off; the other, a Frenchified-looking young man,
about twenty-five years of age, of dark complexion, with green
spectacles to hide some deformity of the eye, no whiskers, but a large
quantity of beard on the lower chin. The elderly man, whom I took to be
the notary public mentioned in the advertisement, read the terms of
sale; then the dark auctioneer, stroking his bearded chin, proceeded to
business.
"Now, gentlemen, let me sell you Jacob. He is twenty-six years of
age--a first-rate carpenter and wheelwright--_Jacob âgé d'environ 26
ans, charpentier et charron de la première ordre_--guaranteed free from
the vices and maladies provided against by law--_garanti exempt des
vices et des maladies prévus par la loi_. How much for Jacob? _Combien
pour Jacob?_" He was run up from 1,000 dollars, and was going for
1,175, when the fat old gentleman offered 1,200, at which he was
knocked down. "Now, gentlemen," said the fat man, with deliberation and
emphasis, "the 1,200 dollars was my bid, and therefore Jacob is not
sold. He is well worth 1,800 dollars."
At this performance, be it observed, the chief actor uttered everything
first in English, and then in French, in the same breath, thereby
giving the proceedings a most strange and comical sound.
Abraham, although on the advertisement, was not present.
Sancho, a black man, twenty-seven years of age, was the next in order.
He was described as "an excellent carpenter--_excellent
charpentier_--can do anything but fine work--fully guaranteed free from
the maladies and vices provided against by law;" and, as nobody would
bid higher, he also was bought in by the fat man at 1,025 dollars.
George, a black man, twenty-seven years of age, was the next to mount
the platform. George kept his eyes fixed upon the dome, as if he felt
above looking down on the grovelling creatures beneath him. He was a
stout-built, thick-set man, who evidently felt to the very core the
degradation to which he was exposed. "Now, gentlemen, let me sell you
George--a first-rate bricklayer--_excellent poseur de briques_--bears
an excellent character--only he absconded once from his master for a
few days. How much do you offer for him?" The bidding began at 500
dollars; but George, like his predecessors, was bought in at 980 by the
fat man, who protested him to be well worth 1,500.
Squires--whom I questioned about doors, sash-windows, and
staircases--was next put up. He was said to be twenty-eight years of
age; but I think he was nearer forty. On his forehead was a deep scar,
occasioned by some severe cut. He appeared to be a very good-tempered
man, and by his smiling looks seemed to say, "Buy me, and I'll serve
you well." "What will you offer for Squires, gentlemen?--an excellent
carpenter--can trim a house--all but the very fine work--bears an
excellent character--is fully guaranteed," &c. &c. "Who bids for
Squires?" Poor fellow! he was sold for 900 dollars.
Sancho was put up again, the fat man observing that he had made a
mistake in offering a reserve bid for him--that he would be sold
without reserve. He was put up at 600 dollars. The biddings gradually
ascended to 900, and there stood, till, after a considerable
expenditure of the Frenchman's breath and talent, Sancho was knocked
down at 900 dollars, though when first put up 1,025 had been offered
for him.
John, a black man, twenty-five years of age, "an excellent French and
American cook--_excellent cuisinier Français et Américain_," was put up
at 600 dollars, and, after the usual quantity of the Frenchman's
eloquence, (accompanied, as in all other cases, by the constant rubbing
of his tuft of chin-beard with the left hand, while in the right he
flourished a fine massive gold pencil-case and a sheet of paper,)
fetched 775 dollars, at which price he was knocked down to one Robert
Murphy.
Silas also, a black boy, fifteen years of age, a house-servant, with a
large scar on the right cheek, was sold for 670 dollars to Robert
Murphy; who likewise became the purchaser of Scipio, a black man about
twenty-four years of age, "an excellent cook, fully warranted in every
respect," for 705 dollars.
"Now, gentlemen," resumed the green-spectacled auctioneer, still
stroking his cherished tuft of long black beard,--"now, gentlemen, let
me sell you Samson! He is twenty-six years of age--an excellent
house-servant--guaranteed free," &c. &c. "What do you offer for
Samson?" Poor Samson fell into the hands of the Philistines at 710
dollars.
Sam, the next on the list, was not present. Ben was therefore put up.
He was a fine buckish young fellow, about twenty-one. His complexion
was lighter than that of a mulatto, and his hair was not at all
crisped, but straight, and of a jet black. He was dressed in a good
cloth surtout coat, and looked altogether far more respectable and
intelligent than most of the bidders. He was evidently a high-minded
young man, who felt deeply the insulting position he was made to
occupy. Oh! that I could have whispered in his ear a few words of
sympathy and comfort. He stood on the platform firm and erect, his eyes
apparently fixed on the clock opposite. "Now, gentlemen, what do you
offer for Ben?" said the Frenchified salesman; "a first-rate
tailor--only twenty-one years of age." 700 dollars proved to be the
estimated value of this "excellent tailor."
Charles (not in the catalogue) was now offered. He was a black man, of
great muscular power, said to be twenty-eight years of age. He had, it
was admitted, absconded once from his master! At this intelligence the
countenances of the bidders fell. He had evidently gone down at least
20 per cent. in value. Though offered at 300 dollars, however, he rose
to 640, at which price he was sold.
The "ladies" were yet to be exhibited. "Elizabeth" (my own dear
sister's name) was the first. But I reserve this part of the scene for
another letter.