MORAL CHARACTER OF NEGROES.
"Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim;
Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in black and white the same.
"Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,
Ere you proudly question ours."
THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT; BY COWPER.
The opinion that negroes are naturally inferior in intellect is almost
universal among white men; but the belief that they are worse than other
people, is, I believe, much less extensive: indeed, I have heard some,
who were by no means admirers of the colored race, maintain that they
were very remarkable for kind feelings, and strong affections. Homer
calls the ancient Ethiopians "the most honest of men;" and modern
travellers have given innumerable instances of domestic tenderness, and
generous hospitality in the interior of Africa. Mungo Park informs us
that he found many schools in his progress through the country, and
observed with pleasure the great docility and submissive deportment
of the children, and heartily wished they had better instructers and
a purer religion.
The following is an account of his arrival at Jumbo, in company with a
native of that place, who had been absent several years: "The meeting
between the blacksmith and his relations was very tender; for these rude
children of nature, free from restraint, display their emotions in the
strongest and most expressive manner. Amidst these transports, the aged
mother was led forth, leaning upon a staff. Every one made way for her,
and she stretched out her hand to bid her son welcome. Being totally
blind, she stroked his hands, arms, and face, with great care, and
seemed highly delighted that her latter days were blessed by his return,
and that her ears once more heard the music of his voice. From this
interview, I was fully convinced, that whatever difference there is
between the negro and the European, in the conformation of the nose,
and the color of the skin, there is none in the genuine sympathies and
characteristic feelings of our common nature."
At a small town in the interior, called Wawra, he says, "In the course
of the day, several women, hearing that I was going to Sego, came and
begged me to inquire of Mansong, the king, what was become of their
children. One woman, in particular, told me that her son's name was
Mamadee; that he was no heathen; but prayed to God morning and evening;
that he had been taken from her about three years ago by Mansong's army,
since which she had never heard from him. She said she often dreamed
about him, and begged me, if I should see him in Bambarra, or in my own
country, to tell him that his mother and sister were still alive."
At Sego, in Bambarra, the king, being jealous of Mr. Park's intentions,
forbade him to cross the river. Under these discouraging circumstances,
he was advised to lodge at a distant village; but there the same
distrust of the white man's purposes prevailed, and no person would
allow him to enter his house. He says, "I was regarded with astonishment
and fear, and was obliged to sit all day without food, under the shade
of a tree. The wind rose, and there was great appearance of a heavy
rain, and the wild beasts are so very numerous in the neighborhood, that
I should have been under the necessity of resting among the branches of
the tree. About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the night
in this manner, and had turned my horse loose, that he might graze at
liberty, a woman, returning from the labors of the field, stopped to
observe me. Perceiving that I was weary and dejected, she inquired into
my situation, which I briefly explained to her; whereupon, with looks of
great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle and told me to follow
her. Having conducted me into her hut, she lighted a lamp, spread a mat
on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the night. Finding
that I was hungry, she went out, and soon returned with a very fine
fish, which being broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. The
women then resumed their task of spinning cotton, and lightened their
labor with songs, one of which must have been composed extempore, for
I was myself the subject of it. It was sung by one of the young women,
the rest joining in a kind of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive,
and the words literally translated, were these:
"The winds roar'd, and the rains fell;
The poor white man, faint and weary,
Came and sat under our tree.--
He has no mother to bring him milk;
No wife to grind his corn.
CHORUS.
"Let us pity the white man;
No mother has he to bring him milk,
No wife to grind his corn."
[Illustration: Engraving]
The reader can fully sympathize with this intelligent and liberal-minded
traveller, when he observes, "Trifling as this recital may appear, the
circumstance was highly affecting to a person in my situation. I was
oppressed with such unexpected kindness, and sleep fled from my eyes. In
the morning, I presented my compassionate landlady with two of the four
brass buttons remaining on my waistcoat; the only recompense I could
make her."
The Duchess of Devonshire, whose beauty and talent gained such extensive
celebrity, was so much pleased with this African song, and the kind
feelings in which it originated, that she put it into English verse, and
employed an eminent composer to set it to music:
The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast;
The white man yielded to the blast;
He sat him down beneath our tree,
For weary, faint, and sad was he;
And ah, no wife or mother's care,
For him the milk or corn prepare.
CHORUS.
The white man shall our pity share;
Alas! no wife, or mother's care,
For him the milk or corn prepare.
The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
And mercy's voice has hush'd the blast;
The wind is heard in whispers low;
The white man far away must go;--
But ever in his heart will bear
Remembrance of the negro's care.
CHORUS.
Go, white man, go--but with thee bear
The negro's wish, the negro's prayer,
Remembrance of the negro's care.
At another time, Mr. Park thus continues his narrative: "A little before
sunset, I descended on the northwest side of a ridge of hills, and as I
was looking about for a convenient tree, under which to pass the night,
(for I had no hopes of reaching any town) I descended into a delightful
valley, and soon afterward arrived at a romantic village called Kooma.
I was immediately surrounded by a circle of the harmless villagers.
They asked me a thousand questions about my country, and in return for
my information brought corn and milk for myself, and grass for my horse;
kindled a fire in the hut where I was to sleep, and appeared very
anxious to serve me."
Afterward, being robbed and stripped by a banditti in the wilderness, he
informs us that the robbers stood considering whether they should leave
him quite destitute; even in _their_ minds, humanity partially prevailed
over avarice; they returned the worst of two shirts, and a pair of
trowsers; and as they went away, one of them threw back his hat. At the
next village, Mr. Park entered a complaint to the Dooty, or chief man,
who continued very calmly smoking while he listened to the narration;
but when he had heard all the particulars, he took the pipe from his
mouth, and tossing up the sleeve of his cloak, with an indignant air,
he said, "You shall have every thing restored to you--I have sworn it."
Then, turning to an attendant, he added, "Give the white man a draught
of water; and with the first light of morning go over the hills, and
inform the Dooty of Bammakoo, that a poor white man, the king of
Bambarra's stranger, has been robbed by the king of Foolodoo's people."
He then invited the traveller to remain with him, and share his
provisions, until the messenger returned. Mr. Park accepted the kind
offer most gratefully: and in a few days his horse and clothes were
restored to him.
At the village of Nemacoo, where corn was so scarce that the people
were actually in a state of starvation, a negro pitied his distress
and brought him food.
At Kamalia, Mr. Park was earnestly dissuaded by an African named Karfa,
from attempting to cross the Jalonka wilderness during the rainy season;
to which he replied that there was no alternative--for he was so poor,
that he must either beg his subsistence from place to place, or perish
with hunger. Karfa eagerly inquired if he could eat the food of the
country, adding that, if he would stay with him, he should have plenty
of victuals, and a hut to sleep in; and that after he had been safely
conducted to the Gambia, he might make what return he thought proper.
He was accordingly provided with a mat to sleep on, an earthern jar for
holding water, a small calabash for a drinking cup, and two meals a
day, with a supply of wood and water, from Karfa's own dwelling. Here
he recovered from a fever, which had tormented him several weeks. His
benevolent landlord came daily to inquire after his health, and see that
he had every thing for his comfort. Mr. Park assures us that the simple
and affectionate manner of those around him contributed not a little to
his recovery. He adds, "Thus was I delivered, by the friendly care of
this benevolent negro, from a situation truly deplorable. Distress and
famine pressed hard upon me; I had before me the gloomy wilderness of
Jallonkadoo, where the traveller sees no habitation for five successive
days. I had observed, at a distance, the rapid course of the river
Kokaro, and had almost marked out the place where I thought I was
doomed to perish, when this friendly negro stretched out his hospitable
hand for my relief." Mr. Park having travelled in company with a coffle
of thirty-five slaves, thus describes his feelings as they came near
the coast: "Although I was now approaching the end of my tedious
and toilsome journey, and expected in another day to meet with
countrymen and friends, I could not part with my unfortunate
fellow-travellers,--doomed as I knew most of them to be, to a life
of slavery in a foreign land,--without great emotion. During a
peregrination of more than five hundred miles, exposed to the burning
rays of a tropical sun, these poor slaves, amidst their own infinitely
greater sufferings, would commiserate mine, and frequently, of their own
accord, bring water to quench my thirst, and at night collect branches
and leaves to prepare me a bed in the wilderness. We parted with mutual
regret and blessings. My good wishes and prayers were all I could bestow
upon them, and it afforded me some consolation to be told that they were
sensible I had no more to give."
The same enlightened traveller remarks, "All the negro nations that fell
under my observation, though divided into a number of petty, independent
states, subsist chiefly by the same means, live nearly in the same
temperature, and possess a wonderful similarity of disposition. The
Mandingoes, in particular, are a very gentle race, cheerful,
inquisitive, credulous, simple, and fond of flattery. Perhaps the most
prominent defect in their character, was that insurmountable propensity,
which the reader must have observed to prevail in all classes, to steal
from me the few effects I was possessed of. No complete justification
can be offered for this conduct, because theft is a crime in their own
estimation; and it must be observed that they are not habitually and
generally guilty of it towards each other. But before we pronounce them
a more depraved people than any other, it were well to consider, whether
the lower class of people in any part of Europe, would have acted, under
similar circumstances, with greater honesty towards a stranger. It must
be remembered that the laws of the country afforded me no protection;
that every one was permitted to rob me with impunity; and that some part
of my effects were of as great value in the estimation of the negroes,
as pearls and diamonds would have been in the eyes of a European. Let us
suppose a black merchant of Hindostan had found his way into England,
with a box of jewels at his back, and the laws of the kingdom afforded
him no security--in such a case, the wonder would be, not that the
stranger was robbed of any part of his riches, but that any part was
left for a second depredator.[AJ] Such, on sober reflection, is the
judgment I have formed concerning the pilfering disposition of the
Mandingo negroes toward me.
[Footnote AJ: Or suppose a colored pedler with valuable goods travelling
in slave states, where the laws afford little or no protection to negro
property; what would probably be his fate?]
"On the other hand, it is impossible for me to forget the disinterested
charity, and tender solicitude, with which many of these poor heathens,
from the sovereign of Sego, to the poor women, who at different
times received me into their cottages, sympathized with my sufferings,
relieved my distress, and contributed to my safety. Perhaps this
acknowledgment is more particularly due to the female part of the
nation. Among the men, as the reader must have seen, my reception,
though generally kind, was sometimes otherwise. It varied according to
the tempers of those to whom I made application. Avarice in some, and
bigotry in others, had closed up the avenues to compassion; but I do not
recollect a single instance of hard-heartedness towards me in the women.
In all my wanderings and wretchedness, I found them uniformly kind and
compassionate; and I can truly say, as Mr. Ledyard has eloquently said
before me--'To a woman, I never addressed myself in the language of
decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer.
If I was hungry, or thirsty, wet, or ill, they did not hesitate, like
the men, to perform a generous action. In so free and so kind a manner,
did they contribute to my relief, that if I were thirsty, I drank the
sweeter draught; and if I were hungry, I ate the coarsest meal with a
double relish.'
"It is surely reasonable to suppose that the soft and amiable sympathy
of nature, thus spontaneously manifested to me in my distress, is
displayed by these poor people as occasion requires, much more strongly
toward those of their own nation and neighborhood. Maternal affection,
neither suppressed by the restraints, nor diverted by the solicitudes of
civilized life, is every where conspicuous among them, and creates
reciprocal tenderness in the child. 'Strike me,' said a negro to his
master, who spoke disrespectfully of his parent, 'but do not curse my
mother.' The same sentiment I found to prevail universally."
"I perceived, with great satisfaction, that the maternal solicitude
extended not only to the growth and security of the person, but also,
in a certain degree, to the improvement of the character; for one of the
first lessons, which the Mandingo women teach their children, is the
practice of truth. A poor unhappy mother, whose son had been murdered by
a Moorish banditti, found consolation in her deepest distress from the
reflection that her boy, in the whole course of his blameless life, had
never told a lie."
Adanson, who visited Senegal, in 1754, describes the negroes as
sociable, obliging, humane, and hospitable. "Their amiable simplicity,"
says he, "in this enchanting country, recalled to me the idea of the
primitive race of man; I thought I saw the world in its infancy. They
are distinguished by tenderness for their parents, and great respect for
the aged." Robin speaks of a slave at Martinico, who having gained money
sufficient for his own ransom, preferred to purchase his mother's
freedom.
Proyart, in his history of Loango, acknowledges that the negroes on the
coast, who associate with Europeans, are inclined to licentiousness
and fraud; but he says those of the interior are humane, obliging,
and hospitable. Golberry repeats the same praise, and rebukes the
presumption of white men in despising "nations improperly called savage,
among whom we find men of integrity, models of filial, conjugal, and
paternal affection, who know all the energies and refinements of virtue;
among whom sentimental impressions are more deep, because they observe,
more than we, the dictates of nature, and know how to sacrifice personal
interest to the ties of friendship."
Joseph Rachel, a free negro of Barbadoes, having become rich by
commerce, consecrated all his fortune to acts of charity and
beneficence. The unfortunate of all colors shared his kindness. He
gave to the needy, lent without hope of return, visited prisoners, and
endeavored to reform the guilty. He died in 1758. The philanthropists
of England speak of him with the utmost respect.
Jasmin Thoumazeau was born in Africa, 1714, and sold at St. Domingo,
1736. Having obtained his freedom, he returned to his native country,
and married a negro girl of the Gold Coast. In 1756, he established a
hospital for poor negroes and mulattoes. During more than forty years,
he and his wife devoted their time and fortune to the comfort of such
invalids as sought their protection. The Philadelphian Society, at the
Cape, and the Agricultural Society of Paris, decreed medals to this
worthy and benevolent man.
Louis Desrouleaux was the slave of M. Pinsum, _a captain in the negro
trade_, who resided at St. Domingo. The master having amassed great
riches, went to reside in France, where circumstances combined to ruin
him. Depressed in fortune and spirits, he returned to St. Domingo; but
those who had formerly been proud of his friendship, now avoided him.
Louis heard of his misfortunes and immediately went to see him. The
scales were now turned; the negro was rich, and the white man poor. The
generous fellow offered every assistance, but advised M. Pinsum by all
means to return to France, where he would not be pained by the sight of
ungrateful men. "But I cannot gain a living there," replied the white
man. "Will the annual revenue of fifteen thousand francs be sufficient?"
asked Louis. The Frenchman's eyes filled with tears. The negro signed
the contract, and the pension was regularly paid, till the death of
Louis Desrouleaux, in 1774.
Benoit of Palermo, also named Benoit of Santo Fratello, sometimes called
_The Holy Black_, was a negro, and the son of a female slave. Roccho
Pirro, author of the _Sicilia Sacra_, eulogizes him thus: "Nigro quidem
corpore sed candore animi præclarisimus quem miraculis Deus contestatum
esse voluit." "His body was black, but it pleased God to testify by
miracles the whiteness of his soul." He died at Palermo, in 1589, where
his tomb and memory are much revered. A few years ago, it was said the
Pope was about to authorize his canonization. Whether he is yet
registered as a saint in the Calendar, I know not; but many writers
agree that he was a saint indeed--eminent for his virtues, which he
practised in meekness and silence, desiring no witness but his God.
The moral character of Toussaint L'Ouverture is even more worthy of
admiration than his intellectual acuteness. What can be more beautiful
than his unchanging gratitude to his benefactor, his warm attachment to
his family, his high-minded sacrifice of personal feeling to the public
good? He was a hero in the sublimest sense of the word. Yet he had no
white blood in his veins--he was all negro.
The following description of a slave-market at Brazil is from the pen of
Doctor Walsh: "The men were generally less interesting objects than the
women; their countenances and hues were very varied, according to the
part of the African coast from which they came; some were soot-black,
having a certain ferocity of aspect that indicated strong and fierce
passions, like men who were darkly brooding over some deep-felt wrongs,
and meditating revenge. When any one was ordered, he came forward with
a sullen indifference, threw his arms over his head, stamped with his
feet, shouted to show the soundness of his lungs, ran up and down the
room, and was treated exactly like a horse put through his paces at a
repository; and when done, he was whipped to his stall.
"Many of them were lying stretched on the bare boards; and among the
rest, mothers with young children at their breasts, of which they seemed
passionately fond. They were all doomed to remain on the spot, like
sheep in a pen, till they were sold; they have no apartment to retire
to, no bed to repose on, no covering to protect them; they sit naked all
day, and lie naked all night, on the bare boards, or benches, where we
saw them exhibited.
"Among the objects that attracted my attention in this place were some
young boys, who seemed to have formed a society together. I observed
several times in passing by, that the same little group was collected
near a barred window; they seemed very fond of each other, and their
kindly feelings were never interrupted by peevishness; indeed, the
temperament of a negro child is generally so sound, that he is not
affected by those little morbid sensations, which are the frequent cause
of crossness and ill-temper in our children. I do not remember that
I ever saw a young black fretful, or out of humor; certainly never
displaying those ferocious fits of petty passion, in which the superior
nature of infant whites indulges. I sometimes brought cakes and fruit in
my pocket, and handed them in to the group. It was quite delightful to
observe the generous and disinterested manner in which they distributed
them. There was no scrambling with one another; no selfish reservation
to themselves. The child to whom I happened to give them, took them so
gently, looked so thankfully, and distributed them so generously, that
I could not help thinking that God had compensated their dusky hue, by
a more than usual human portion of amiable qualities."
Several negroes in Jamaica were to be hung. One of them was offered his
life, if he would hang the others; he preferred death. A negro slave who
was ordered to do it, asked time to prepare; he went into his cabin,
chopped off his right hand with an axe, and then came back, saying he
was ready.
Sutcliff in his Travels, speaks of meeting a coffle of slaves in
Maryland, one of whom had voluntarily gone into slavery, in hopes of
meeting her husband, who was a free black and had been stolen by
kidnappers. The poor creature was in treacherous hands, and it is a
great chance whether she ever saw her husband again.
An affecting instance of negro friendship may be found in 1 Bay's
Report, 260-3. A female slave in South Carolina was allowed to work out
in the town, on condition that she paid her master a certain sum of
money, per month. Being strong and industrious, her wages amounted to
more than had been demanded in their agreement. After a time she earned
enough to buy her freedom; but she preferred to devote the sum to the
emancipation of a negro girl, named Sally, for whom she had conceived
a strong affection. For a long time the master pretended to have no
property in his slave's manumitted friend, never paid taxes for her, and
often spoke of her as a free negro. But, from some motive or other, he
afterward claimed Sally as his slave, on the ground that no slave could
make any purchase on his own account, or possess any thing which did not
legally belong to his master. It is an honor to Chief Justice Rutledge
that his charge was given in a spirit better than the laws. He
concluded by saying, "If the wench choose to appropriate the savings of
her extra labor to the purchase of this girl, in order to set her free,
will a jury of the country say, No? I trust not. I hope they are too
upright and humane, to do such manifest violence to such an
extraordinary act of benevolence." By the prompt decision of the jury,
Sally was declared free.[AK]
[Footnote AK: Stroud says of the above, "This is an isolated case, of
pretty early date; it deserves to be noticed because it is in opposition
to the spirit of the laws, and to _later_ decisions of the courts."]
In speaking of the character of negroes, it ought not to be omitted that
many of them were brave and faithful soldiers during our Revolution.
Some are now receiving pensions for their services. At New-Orleans,
likewise, the conduct of the colored troops was deserving of the highest
praise.
It is common to speak of the negroes as a very unfeeling race; and no
doubt the charge has considerable truth when applied to those in a state
of bondage; for slavery blunts the feelings, as well as stupifies the
intellect. The poor negro is considered as having no right in his wife
and children. They may be suddenly torn from him to be sold in a distant
market; but he cannot prevent the wrong. He may see them exposed to
every species of insult and indignity; but the law, which stretches
forth her broad shield to guard the white man's rights, excludes the
negro from her protection. They may be tied to the whipping-post and
_die_ under _moderate_ punishment; but he dares not complain. If he
murmur, there is the tormenting lash; if he resist, it is death. And the
injustice extends even beyond the grave; for the story of the slave is
told by his oppressor, and the manly spirit which the poor creature
shows, when stung to the very heart's core, is represented as diabolical
revenge. A short time ago, I read in a Georgia paper, what was called a
horrid transaction, on the part of the negro. A slave stood by and saw
his wife whipped, as long as he could possibly endure the sight; he then
called out to the overseer, who was applying the lash, that he would
kill him if he did not use more mercy. This probably made matters worse;
at all events the lashing continued. The husband goaded to frenzy,
rushed upon the overseer, and stabbed him three times. White men! what
would _you_ do, if the laws admitted that your wives might "_die_" of
"_moderate punishment_," administered by your employers? The overseer
died, and his murderer was either burned or shot,--I forget which. The
Georgia editor viewed the subject only on one side--viz., the monstrous
outrage against the white man--the negro's wrongs passed for nothing!
It was very gravely added to the account (probably to increase the
odiousness of the slave's offence,) that the overseer belonged to the
Presbyterian church! I smiled,--because it made me think of a man, whom
I once heard described as "a most excellent Christian, that would steal
timber to build a church."
This instance shows that even slaves are not quite destitute of
feeling--yet we could not wonder at it, if they were. Who could expect
the kindly affections to expand in such an atmosphere! Where there is
no hope, the heart becomes paralyzed: it is a merciful arrangement of
Divine Providence, by which the acuteness of sensibility is lessened
when it becomes merely a source of suffering.
But there are exceptions to this general rule; instances of very strong
and deep affection are sometimes found in a state of hopeless bondage.
Godwin, in his eloquent Lectures on Colonial Slavery, quotes the
following anecdote, as related by Mr. T. Pennock, at a public meeting
in England:
"A few years ago it was enacted, that it should not be legal to
transport once established slaves from one island to another; and a
gentleman owner, finding it advisable to do so before the act came
in force, the removal of a great part of his _live stock_ was the
consequence. He had a female slave, a Methodist, and highly valuable to
him, (not the less so for being the mother of eight or nine children,)
whose husband, also of our connection, was the property of another
resident on the island, where I happened to be at the time. Their
masters not agreeing on a sale, separation ensued, and I went to the
beach to be an eye-witness of their behavior in the greatest pang of
all. One by one, the man kissed his children, with the firmness of a
hero, and blessing them, gave as his last words--(oh! will it be
believed, and have no influence upon our veneration for the negro?)
'Farewell! _Be honest, and obedient to your master!_' At length he had
to take leave of his wife: there he stood, (I have him in my mind's eye
at this moment,) five or six yards from the mother of his children,
unable to move, speak, or do any thing but gaze, and still to gaze, on
the object of his long affection, soon to cross the blue waves for ever
from his aching sight. The fire of his eyes alone gave indication of
the passion within, until after some minutes standing thus, he fell
senseless on the sand, as if suddenly struck down by the hand of the
Almighty. Nature could do no more; the blood gushed from his nostrils
and mouth, as if rushing from the terrors of the conflict within; and
amid the confusion occasioned by the circumstance, the vessel bore off
his family for ever from the island! After some days he recovered,
and came to ask advice of me. What _could_ an Englishman do in such a
case? I felt the blood boiling within me; but I conquered. I browbeat
my own manhood, and gave him the humblest advice I could."
The following account is given by Mr. Gilgrass, one of the Methodist
missionaries at Jamaica: "A master of slaves, who lived near us in
Kingston, exercised his barbarities on a Sabbath morning while we were
worshiping God in the Chapel; and the cries of the female sufferers have
frequently interrupted us in our devotions. But there was no redress for
them, or for us. This man wanted money; and one of the female slaves
having two fine children, he sold one of them, and the child was torn
from her maternal affection. In the agony of her feelings, she made a
hideous howling; and for that crime she was flogged. Soon after he sold
her other child. This 'turned her heart within her,' and impelled her
into a kind of madness. She howled night and day in the yard; tore her
hair; ran up and down the streets and the parade, rending the heavens
with her cries, and literally watering the earth with her tears. Her
constant cry was, '_Da wicked massa, he sell me children. Will no buckra
master pity nega? What me do! Me have no child!_' As she stood before
my window, she said, lifting her hands towards heaven, '_Do, me master
minister, pity me! Me heart do so, _(shaking herself violently,)_ me
heart do so, because me have no child. Me go a massa house, in massa
yard, and in me hut, and me no see em;_' and then her cry went up to
God. I durst not be seen looking at her."
A similar instance of strong affection happened in the city of
Washington, December, 1815. A negro woman, with her two children, was
sold near Bladensburg, to Georgia traders; but the master refused to
sell her husband. When the coffle reached Washington, on their way to
Georgia, the poor creature attempted to escape, by jumping from the
garret window of a three-story brick tavern. Her arms and back were
dreadfully broken. When asked why she had done such a desperate act, she
replied, "_They brought me away, and wouldn't let me see my husband; and
I didn't want to go. I was so distracted that I didn't know what I was
about: but I didn't want to go--and I jumped out of the window._" The
unfortunate woman was given to the landlord as a compensation for having
her taken care of at his house; her children were sold in Carolina; and
thus was this poor forlorn being left alone in her misery. In all this
wide land of benevolence and freedom, there was no one who could protect
her: for in such cases, the _laws_ come in, with iron grasp, to check
the stirrings of human sympathy.
Another complaint is that slaves have most inveterate habits of
laziness. No doubt this is true--it would be strange indeed if it were
otherwise. Where is the human being, who will work from a disinterested
love of toil, when his labor brings no improvement to himself, no
increase of comfort to his wife and children?
Pelletan, in his Memoirs of the French Colony of Senegal, says, "The
negroes work with ardor, because they are now unmolested in their
possessions and enjoyments. Since the suppression of slavery, the Moors
make no more inroads upon them, and their villages are rebuilt and
re-peopled." Bosman, who was by no means very friendly to colored
people, says: "The negroes of Cabomonte and Juido, are indefatigable
cultivators, economical of their soil, they scarcely leave a foot-path
to form a communication between the different possessions; they reap one
day, and the next they sow the same earth, without allowing it time for
repose."
It is needless to multiply quotations; for the concurrent testimony of
all travellers proves that industry is a common virtue in the interior
of Africa.
Again, it is said that the negroes are treacherous, cunning, dishonest,
and profligate. Let me ask you, candid reader, what you would be, if you
labored under the same unnatural circumstances? The daily earnings of
the slave, nay, his very wife and children, are constantly wrested
from him, under the sanction of the laws; is this the way to teach a
scrupulous regard to the property of others? How can purity be expected
from him, who sees almost universal licentiousness prevail among those
whom he is taught to regard as his superiors? Besides, we must remember
how entirely unprotected the negro is in his domestic relations, and
how very frequently husband and wife are separated by the caprice, or
avarice, of the white man. I have no doubt that slaves are artful; for
they _must_ be so. Cunning is always the resort of the weak against the
strong; children, who have violent and unreasonable parents, become
deceitful in self-defence. The only way to make young people sincere and
frank, is to treat them with mildness and perfect justice.
The negro often pretends to be ill in order to avoid labor; and if you
were situated as he is, you would do the same. But it is said that the
blacks are malignant and revengeful. Granting it to be true,--is it
their fault, or is it owing to the cruel circumstances in which they are
placed? Surely there are proofs enough that they are naturally a kind
and gentle people. True, they do sometimes murder their masters and
overseers; but where there is utter hopelessness, can we wonder at
occasional desperation? I do not believe that any class of people
subject to the same influences, would commit fewer crimes. Dickson, in
his letters on slavery, informs us that "among one hundred and twenty
thousand negroes and creoles of Barbadoes, only three murders have been
known to be committed by them in the course of thirty years; although
often provoked by the cruelty of the planters."
In estimating the vices of slaves, there are several items to be taken
into the account. In the first place, we hear a great deal of the
negroes' crimes, while we hear very little of their provocations. If
they murder their masters, newspapers and almanacs blazon it all over
the country; but if their masters murder _them_, a trifling fine is
paid, and nobody thinks of mentioning the matter. I believe there are
twenty negroes killed by white men, where there is one white man killed
by a black. If you believe this to be mere conjecture, I pray you
examine the Judicial Reports of the Southern States. The voice of
_humanity_, concerning this subject, is weak and stifled; and when a
master kills his own slave we are not likely to hear the tidings--but
the voice of _avarice_ is loud and strong; and it sometimes happens that
negroes, "die under a moderate punishment" administered by other hands:
then prosecutions ensue, in order to recover the price of the slave; and
in _this_ way we are enabled to form a tolerable conjecture concerning
the frequency of such crimes.
I have said that we seldom hear of the grievous wrongs which provoke
the vengeance of the slave; I will tell an anecdote, which I know to
be true, as a proof in point. Within the last two years, a gentleman
residing in Boston, was summoned to the West Indies in consequence of
troubles on his plantation. His overseer had been killed by the slaves.
This fact was soon made public; and more than one exclaimed, "what
diabolical passions these negroes have!" To which I replied, that I only
wondered they were half as good as they were. It was not long, however,
before I discovered the particulars of the case: and I took some pains
that the public should likewise be informed of them. The overseer was a
bad, licentious man. How long and how much the slaves endured under his
power I know not, but at last, he took a fancy to two of the negroes'
wives, ordered them to be brought to his house, and in spite of their
entreaties and resistance, compelled them to remain as long as he
thought proper. The husbands found their little huts deserted, and knew
very well where the blame rested. In such a case, you would have gone
to law; but the law does not recognise a negro's rights--he is the
_property_ of his master, and subject to the will of his agent. If a
slave should talk of being protected in his domestic relations, it would
cause great merriment in a slaveholding State; the proposition would be
deemed equally inconvenient and absurd. Under such circumstances, the
negro husbands took justice into their own hands. They murdered the
overseer. Four innocent slaves were taken up, and upon very slight
circumstantial evidence were condemned to be shot; but the real actors
in this scene passed unsuspected. When the unhappy men found their
companions were condemned to die, they avowed the fact, and exculpated
all others from any share in the deed. Was not this true magnanimity?
Can you help respecting those negroes? If you can, I pity you.
Since the condition of slaves is such as I have described, are you
surprised at occasional insurrections? You may _regret_ it most deeply;
but _can_ you wonder at it. The famous Captain Smith, when he was a
slave in Tartary, killed his overseer and made his escape. I never heard
him blamed for it--it seems to be universally considered a simple act of
self-defence. The same thing has often occurred with regard to white men
taken by the Algerines.
The Poles have shed Russian "blood enough to float our navy;" and we
admire and praise them, because they did it in resistance of oppression.
Yet they have suffered less than black slaves, all the world over,
are suffering. We honor our forefathers because they rebelled against
certain principles dangerous to political freedom; yet from actual,
personal tyranny, they suffered nothing: the negro on the contrary, is
suffering all that oppression _can_ make human nature suffer. Why do we
execrate in one set of men, what we laud so highly in another? I shall
be reminded that insurrections and murders are totally at variance with
the precepts of our religion; and this is most true. But according to
this rule, the Americans, Poles, Parisians, Belgians, and all who have
shed blood for the sake of liberty, are more to blame than the negroes;
for the former are more enlightened, and can always have access to the
fountain of religion; while the latter are kept in a state of brutal
ignorance--not allowed to read their Bibles--knowing nothing of
Christianity, except the examples of their masters, who profess to be
governed by its maxims.
I hope I shall not be misunderstood on this point. I am not vindicating
insurrections and murders; the very thought makes my blood run cold. I
believe revenge is _always_ wicked; but I say, what the laws of every
country acknowledge, that great provocations are a palliation of great
crimes. When a man steals food because he is starving, we are more
disposed to pity, than to blame him. And what _can_ human nature do,
subject to continual and oppressive wrong--hopeless of change--not only
unprotected by law, but the law itself changed into an enemy--and to
complete the whole, shut out from the instructions and consolations
of the Gospel! No wonder the West India missionaries found it very
difficult to decide what they ought to say to the poor, suffering
negroes! They could indeed tell them it was very impolitic to be rash
and violent, because it could not, under existing circumstances, make
their situation better, and would be very likely to make it worse; but
if they urged the maxims of religion, the slaves might ask the
embarrassing question, is not our treatment in direct opposition to the
precepts of the gospel? Our masters can read the Bible--they have a
chance to know better. Why do not Christians deal justly by us, before
they require us to deal mercifully with them?
Think of all these things, kind-hearted reader. Try to judge the negro
by the same rules you judge other men; and while you condemn his faults,
do not forget his manifold provocations.