Voyage up the Mississippi (continued)--"Patriarchal" Establishments--The
Red River--Elder Wright--Lynch-Law administered by a Preacher--Natchez
--Story of Mary Brown--The Flat Boats of the Mississippi.
On the 10th of February we passed a great many sugar estates on both
sides of the river, which would be agreeable objects but for the curse
of slavery. For who can look with pleasure upon the foul abodes of
lust, oppression, and cruelty? At the outer gate, in front of one of
these "patriarchal" establishments, was a small octagonal building
about 6 or 8 feet in mean diameter. The basement was of brick, pierced
by small air holes, barred with iron, at the height of about 8 feet
from the ground; and the upper part was of wood, terminating in a
pigeon-house. Making a short stay there to take in fire-wood, we
inquired into the use of the building; but all the answer we could get
was, that it was a "pigeon-house." The Baptist minister from Maine
asked a negro, who was helping to bring wood on board; and from him he
learned the real truth,--that it was a place of punishment and torture
for the oppressed slave. We have since ascertained that such buildings
are very common, and generally pass under the euphemistic name of
"pigeon-houses."
On the 11th of February--a fine frosty day--we came to Red River,
branching on our left in the direction of Texas, with which country it
forms an important means of communication. This river, even where it
pours its waters into the Mississippi, is not more than from 300 to 500
feet wide, and yet is navigable by steamers for about 1,200 miles. My
Baptist friend had recently been on a visit to Elder Wright, a planter
and a slave-holder on that river. This Wright was a New-England man,
had graduated at Yale College, and boasted that he was "a Northern man
with Southern feelings." He was called Elder Wright because he was a
preacher,--the Baptists here calling all preachers "elders." Now, this
Elder Wright told my friend that a few years ago there was great fear
in his district of the slaves rising up against their masters. To this
they were supposed to be instigated by the presence and influence of
some strangers. Under this apprehension, a secret committee was formed
to seize and try every suspected stranger, and, if he could not clear
himself to their satisfaction, to "hang him up quietly." Of this secret
and murderous committee Elder Wright--an _alumnus_ of Yale College, a
professor of religion, and a preacher of the gospel--was chosen
chairman; and the statement I have just made came in the way described
from his own lips! It is notorious that in the South they think nothing
of taking away a man's life, if he be even suspected of sympathy with
the slave; and a country so thinly inhabited affords abundant
opportunities of doing it as "quietly" as can be desired. America is
indeed a land of "liberty!"
At night we came to Natchez, a town beautifully situated on the top of
a hill, about 300 feet above the level of the river, and for this
reason called "Natchez-on-the-Hill." Its population is about 5,000; and
it is the largest town in the State of Mississippi. Its distance from
New Orleans is 300 miles. Darkness had set in when we approached it;
yet the numerous lights on shore, rising row above row to a great
elevation, gave it a lively and interesting appearance. But, alas!
Natchez also is a great slave market; and I can never think of it
without remembering the sufferings of poor Mary Brown. Let me narrate
her painful story. It may waken in some breast a feeling of sympathy
for the American slave.
Mary Brown, a coloured girl, was the daughter of _free_ parents in
Washington city--the capital of the freest nation under heaven! She
lived with her parents till the death of her mother. One day, when she
was near the Potomac Bridge, the sheriff overtook her, and told her
that she must go with him. She inquired what for? He made no reply, but
told her to come along, and took her immediately to a slave-auction.
Mary told him she was free; but he contradicted her, and the sale
proceeded. The auctioneer soon sold her for 350 dollars to a
Mississippi trader. She was first taken to jail; and after a few hours
was handcuffed, chained to a _man-slave_, and started in a drove of
about forty for New Orleans. Her handcuffs made her wrists swell so
much that at night they were obliged to take them off, and put fetters
round her ankles. In the morning the handcuffs were again put on. Thus
they travelled for two weeks, wading rivers, whipped up all day, and
beaten at night if they had not performed the prescribed distance. She
frequently waded rivers in her chains, with water up to her waist. The
month was October, and the air cold and frosty. After she had travelled
thus twelve or fifteen days, her arms and ankles had become so swollen
that she felt as if she could go no further. They had no beds, usually
sleeping in barns, sometimes out on the naked ground; and such were her
misery and pain that she could only lie and cry all night. Still she
was driven on for another week; and every time the trader caught her
crying he beat her, uttering fearful curses. If he caught her praying,
he said, he would "give her _hell_." Mary was a member of the Methodist
Church in Washington. There were several pious people in the company;
and at night, when the driver found them melancholy and disposed to
pray, he had a fiddle brought, and made them dance in their chains,
whipping them till they complied. Mary at length became so weak that
she really could travel on foot no further. Her feeble frame was
exhausted, and sank beneath accumulated sufferings. She was seized with
a burning fever; and the diabolical trader--not moved with pity, but
only fearing he should lose her--placed her for the remainder of the
way in a waggon. Arriving at Natchez, they were all offered for sale.
Mary, being still sick, begged she might be sold to a kind master.
Sometimes she made this request in the hearing of purchasers, but was
always insulted for it, and afterwards punished by her cruel master for
her presumption. On one occasion he tied her up by the hands so that
she could barely touch the floor with her toes. He kept her thus
suspended a whole day, whipping her at intervals. In any other country
this inhuman beast would have been tried for the greatest crime, short
of murder, that man can commit against woman, and transported for life.
Poor Mary Brown was at length sold, at 450 dollars, as a house-servant
to a wealthy man of Vicksburgh, who compelled her to cohabit with him,
and had children by her,--most probably filling up the measure of his
iniquity by selling his own flesh. Wrongs like these must have inspired
our poet when he exclaimed,--
"To think that man--them just and gentle God--Should stand before
Thee with a tyrant's rod O'er creatures like himself, with souls from
Thee, Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty! Away! away! I 'd rather
hold my neck In doubtful tenure from a sultan's beck, In climes where
Liberty has scarce been named, Nor any right but that of ruling
claimed, Than thus to live where bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag
in mockery over slaves!"
As we advanced, we continually met with flat boats, laden with produce,
and floating sluggishly down. In the vernacular phrase, these boats are
called "Kentucky flats," or "broad-horns." They are curiously
constructed. At a distance, they appear like large chests or trunks
afloat. They are from 50 to 100 feet long, and generally about 15 or 20
feet wide. The timbers of the bottom are massive beams. The sides are
boarded up square to the height of 6 feet above the water; the roof
being slightly curved, like a trunk lid, to throw off rain. They are
adapted to carry from 200 to 400 barrels. Great numbers of cattle,
hogs, and horses are conveyed to market in them. Coals, too, are thus
brought down from the upper parts of the valley. Some of these barges
have apartments fitted up for the accommodation of a family, with a
stove, beds, tables, &c. You may sometimes see in them ladies,
servants, cows, horses, sheep, dogs, and poultry,--all floating on the
same bottom. It was precisely in this fashion that the Pennsylvanian
farmer and his wife had reached New Orleans. Indeed, most of our
fellow-passengers had come as captains or crews of flat boats. Of
course, no attempt is made to get these unwieldy boats back against the
current. It would be impracticable. The flat boat makes but one trip
during its individual existence. Arrived at New Orleans, it is sold for
"lumber," and taken to pieces. In short, by this arrangement timber and
produce are brought to market at the same time, the "stuff" of which
the float is composed being but little injured. One cannot look at
these temporary structures without being impressed with the vast
importance of those water-powers which the Americans, with a wonderful
tact, bring to bear in the way of saw-mills on the exhaustless
resources of the forest. The very first thing looked for in settling a
new district is water-power.
These flats, though destined for but a single voyage, sometimes do not
reach their port,--seldom without more or less of danger,--and never
without infinite toil' They usually carry but three or four hands.
Their form and gravity render them very unmanageable. Lying flat and
dead in the water, with square timbers below their bottom planks, they
often run on a sandbank with a strong head-way, and bury their timbers
in the soil. To get them afloat again is a great labour. Sometimes they
run upon a "snag," and are instantly swallowed up with all their crew
and all their cargo. Sometimes a steamer runs into one of them, and
produces a catastrophe equally fatal to both. But all the toils, and
dangers, and exposures connected with the long and perilous voyage of a
flat boat, do not appear to the passer-by. As you cut along by the
power of steam, the flat boat seems anything but a place of toil or
care. One of the hands scrapes a violin, while the others dance.
Affectionate greetings, or rude defiances, or trials of wit, or
proffers of love to the girls on shore, or saucy messages pass between
them and the spectators along the bank, or on the steam-boat. Yet,
knowing the dangers to which they were really exposed, the sight of
them often brought to my remembrance an appropriate verse of Dr.
Watts:--
"Your streams were floating me along
Down to the gulf of black despair;
And, whilst I listened to your song,
Your streams had e'en conveyed me there."
These boats, however, do not venture to travel by night; consequently,
at any good landing-place on the Mississippi, you may see towards
evening a large number of them assembled. They have come from regions
thousands of miles apart. They have never met before,--they will
probably never meet again. The fleet of flats covers, perhaps, a
surface of several acres. "Fowls are fluttering over the roofs as
invariable appendages. The piercing note of the chanticleer is heard.
The cattle low. The horses trample as in their stables. The swine
scream, and fight with each other. The turkeys jobble. The dogs of a
hundred regions become acquainted. The boatmen travel about from boat
to boat, to make inquiries and form acquaintances." It is a world in
miniature.