REMOVAL FROM GRANDMOTHER’S.
Author’s early home--Its charms--Author’s ignorance of “old master”--
His gradual perception of the truth concerning him--His relations
to Col. Edward Lloyd--Author’s removal to “old master’s” home--His
journey thence--His separation from his grandmother--His grief.
Living thus with my grandmother, whose kindness and love stood in
place of my mother’s, it was some time before I knew myself to be a
slave. I knew many other things before I knew that. Her little cabin
had to me the attractions of a palace. Its fence-railed floor--which
was equally floor and bedstead--up stairs, and its clay floor down
stairs, its dirt and straw chimney, and windowless sides, and that
most curious piece of workmanship, the ladder stairway, and the hole
so strangely dug in front of the fire-place, beneath which grandmamma
placed her sweet potatoes, to keep them from frost in winter, were
full of interest to my childish observation. The squirrels, as they
skipped the fences, climbed the trees, or gathered their nuts, were
an unceasing delight to me. There, too, right at the side of the hut,
stood the old well, with its stately and skyward-pointing beam, so
aptly placed between the limbs of what had once been a tree, and so
nicely balanced, that I could move it up and down with only one hand,
and could get a drink myself without calling for help. Nor were these
all the attractions of the place. At a little distance stood Mr. Lee’s
mill, where the people came in large numbers to get their corn ground.
I can never tell the many things thought and felt, as I sat on the bank
and watched that mill, and the turning of its ponderous wheel. The
mill-pond, too, had its charms; and with my pin-hook and thread line I
could get amusing nibbles if I could catch no fish.
It was not long, however, before I began to learn the sad fact that
this house of my childhood belonged not to my dear old grandmother, but
to some one I had never seen, and who lived a great distance off. I
learned, too, the sadder fact, that not only the home and lot, but that
grandmother herself and all the little children around her belonged
to a mysterious personage, called by grandmother, with every mark of
reverence, “Old Master.” Thus early did clouds and shadows begin to
fall upon my path.
I learned that this old master, whose name seemed ever to be mentioned
with fear and shuddering, only allowed the little children to live
with grandmother for a limited time, and that as soon as they were big
enough they were promptly taken away to live with the said old master.
These were distressing revelations indeed. My grandmother was all the
world to me, and the thought of being separated from her was a most
unwelcome suggestion to my affections and hopes. This mysterious old
master was really a man of some consequence. He owned several farms
in Tuckahoe, was the chief clerk and butler on the home plantation
of Colonel Lloyd, had overseers as well as slaves on his own farms,
and gave directions to the overseers on the farms owned by Colonel
Lloyd. Captain Aaron Anthony, for such is the name and title of my old
master, lived on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, which was situated on the
Wye river, and which was one of the largest, most fertile, and best
appointed in the State.
About this plantation and this old master I was most eager to know
everything which could be known; and, unhappily for me, all the
information I could get concerning him increased my dread of being
separated from my grandmother and grandfather. I wished it was possible
I could remain small all my life, knowing that the sooner I grew large
the shorter would be my time to remain with them. Everything about
the cabin became doubly dear, and I was sure there could be no other
spot equal to it on earth. But the time came when I must go, and my
grandmother, knowing my fears, in pity for them, kindly kept me
ignorant of the dreaded moment up to the morning (a beautiful summer
morning) when we were to start, and, indeed, during the whole journey,
which, child as I was, I remember as well as if it were yesterday, she
kept the unwelcome truth hidden from me. The distance from Tuckahoe
to Colonel Lloyd’s, where my old master lived, was full twelve miles,
and the walk was quite a severe test of the endurance of my young
legs. The journey would have proved too severe for me, but that my
dear old grandmother (blessings on her memory) afforded occasional
relief by “toteing” me on her shoulder. Advanced in years as she was,
as was evident from the more than one gray hair which peeped from
between the ample and graceful folds of her newly and smoothly ironed
bandana turban, grandmother was yet a woman of power and spirit. She
was remarkably straight in figure, elastic and muscular in movement. I
seemed hardly to be a burden to her. She would have “toted” me farther,
but I felt myself too much of a man to allow it. Yet while I walked
I was not independent of her. She often found me holding her skirts
lest something should come out of the woods and eat me up. Several old
logs and stumps imposed upon me, and got themselves taken for enormous
animals. I could plainly see their legs, eyes, ears, and teeth, till
I got close enough to see that the eyes were knots, washed white with
rain, and the legs were broken limbs, and the ears and teeth only such
because of the point from which they were seen.
As the day advanced the heat increased, and it was not until the
afternoon that we reached the much dreaded end of the journey. Here I
found myself in the midst of a group of children of all sizes and of
many colors, black, brown, copper colored, and nearly white. I had not
seen so many children before. As a new comer I was an object of special
interest. After laughing and yelling around me and playing all sorts of
wild tricks they asked me to go out and play with them. This I refused
to do. Grandmamma looked sad, and I could not help feeling that our
being there boded no good to me. She was soon to lose another object
of affection, as she had lost many before. Affectionately patting me
on the head she told me to be a good boy and go out to play with the
children. They are “kin to you,” she said, “go and play with them.”
She pointed out to me my brother Perry, my sisters, Sarah and Eliza. I
had never seen them before, and though I had sometimes heard of them
and felt a curious interest in them, I really did not understand what
they were to me or I to them. Brothers and sisters we were by blood,
but slavery had made us strangers. They were already initiated into
the mysteries of old master’s domicile, and they seemed to look upon
me with a certain degree of compassion. I really wanted to play with
them, but they were strangers to me, and I was full of fear that my
grandmother might leave for home without taking me with her. Entreated
to do so, however, and that, too, by my dear grandmother, I went to
the back part of the house to play with them and the other children.
Play, however, I did not, but stood with my back against the wall
witnessing the playing of the others. At last, while standing there,
one of the children, who had been in the kitchen, ran up to me in a
sort of roguish glee, exclaiming, “Fed, Fed, grandmamma gone!” I could
not believe it. Yet, fearing the worst, I ran into the kitchen to see
for myself, and lo! she was indeed gone, and was now far away and
“clean” out of sight. I need not tell all that happened now. Almost
heart-broken at the discovery, I fell upon the ground and wept a boy’s
bitter tears, refusing to be comforted. My brother gave me peaches and
pears to quiet me, but I promptly threw them on the ground. I had never
been deceived before, and something of resentment at this, mingled with
my grief at parting with my grandmother.
It was now late in the afternoon. The day had been an exciting and
wearisome one, and, I know not where, but I suppose I sobbed myself to
sleep, and its balm was never more welcome to any wounded soul than to
mine. The reader may be surprised that I relate so minutely an incident
apparently so trivial and which must have occurred when I was less
than seven years old, but as I wish to give a faithful history of my
experience in slavery, I cannot withhold a circumstance which at the
time affected me so deeply, and which I still remember so vividly.
Besides, this was my first introduction to the realities of the slave
system.