A SLAVEHOLDER’S CHARACTER.
Increasing acquaintance with old Master--Evils of unresisted passion--
Apparent tenderness--A man of trouble--Custom of muttering to
himself--Brutal outrage--A drunken overseer--Slaveholder’s
impatience--Wisdom of appeal--A base and selfish attempt to break
up a courtship.
Although my old master, Captain Anthony, gave me, at the first of
my coming to him from my grandmother’s, very little attention, and
although that little was of a remarkably mild and gentle description,
a few months only were sufficient to convince me that mildness
and gentleness were not the prevailing or governing traits of his
character. These excellent qualities were displayed only occasionally.
He could, when it suited him, appear to be literally insensible to the
claims of humanity. He could not only be deaf to the appeals of the
helpless against the aggressor, but he could himself commit outrages
deep, dark, and nameless. Yet he was not by nature worse than other
men. Had he been brought up in a free state, surrounded by the full
restraints of civilized society--restraints which are necessary to
the freedom of all its members, alike and equally, Capt. Anthony might
have been as humane a man as are members of such society generally.
A man’s character always takes its hue, more or less, from the form
and color of things about him. The slaveholder, as well as the slave,
was the victim of the slave system. Under the whole heavens there
could be no relation more unfavorable to the development of honorable
character than that sustained by the slaveholder to the slave. Reason
is imprisoned here and passions run wild. Could the reader have seen
Captain Anthony gently leading me by the hand, as he sometimes did,
patting me on the head, speaking to me in soft, caressing tones
and calling me his little Indian boy, he would have deemed him a
kind-hearted old man, and really almost fatherly to the slave boy. But
the pleasant moods of a slaveholder are transient and fitful. They
neither come often nor remain long. The temper of the old man was
subject to special trials, but since these trials were never borne
patiently, they added little to his natural stock of patience. Aside
from his troubles with his slaves and those of Mr. Lloyd’s, he made the
impression upon me of being an unhappy man. Even to my child’s eye he
wore a troubled and at times a haggard aspect. His strange movements
excited my curiosity and awakened my compassion. He seldom walked alone
without muttering to himself, and he occasionally stormed about as if
defying an army of invisible foes. Most of his leisure was spent in
walking around, cursing and gesticulating as if possessed by a demon.
He was evidently a wretched man, at war with his own soul and all the
world around him. To be overheard by the children disturbed him very
little. He made no more of our presence than that of the ducks and
geese he met on the green. But when his gestures were most violent,
ending with a threatening shake of the head and a sharp snap of his
middle finger and thumb, I deemed it wise to keep at a safe distance
from him.
One of the first circumstances that opened my eyes, to the cruelties
and wickedness of slavery and its hardening influences upon my old
master, was his refusal to interpose his authority to protect and
shield a young woman, a cousin of mine, who had been most cruelly
abused and beaten by his overseer in Tuckahoe. This overseer, a Mr.
Plummer, was like most of his class, little less than a human brute;
and in addition to his general profligacy and repulsive coarseness, he
was a miserable drunkard, a man not fit to have the management of a
drove of mules. In one of his moments of drunken madness he committed
the outrage which brought the young woman in question down to my old
master’s for protection. The poor girl, on her arrival at our house,
presented a most pitiable appearance. She had left in haste and without
preparation, and probably without the knowledge of Mr. Plummer. She
had traveled twelve miles, bare-footed, bare-necked, and bare-headed.
Her neck and shoulders were covered with scars newly made, and not
content with marring her neck and shoulders with the cowhide, the
cowardly wretch had dealt her a blow on the head with a hickory club,
which cut a horrible gash and left her face literally covered with
blood. In this condition the poor young woman came down to implore
protection at the hands of my old master. I expected to see him boil
over with rage at the revolting deed, and to hear him fill the air with
curses upon the brutal Plummer; but I was disappointed. He sternly told
her in an angry tone, “She deserved every bit of it, and if she did
not go home instantly he would himself take the remaining skin from
her neck and back.” Thus the poor girl was compelled to return without
redress, and perhaps to receive an additional flogging for daring to
appeal to authority higher than that of the overseer.
I did not at that time understand the philosophy of this treatment of
my cousin. I think I now understand it. This treatment was a part of
the system, rather than a part of the man. To have encouraged appeals
of this kind would have occasioned much loss of time, and leave the
overseer powerless to enforce obedience. Nevertheless, when a slave
had nerve enough to go straight to his master, with a well-founded
complaint against an overseer, though he might be repelled and have
even that of which he complained at the time repeated, and though
he might be beaten by his master as well as by the overseer, for
his temerity, in the end, the policy of complaining was generally
vindicated by the relaxed rigor of the overseer’s treatment. The latter
became more careful and less disposed to use the lash upon such slaves
thereafter.
The overseer very naturally disliked to have the ear of the master
disturbed by complaints, and either for this reason or because of
advice privately given him by his employer, he generally modified the
rigor of his rule after complaints of this kind had been made against
him. For some cause or other the slaves, no matter how often they were
repulsed by their masters, were ever disposed to regard them with less
abhorrence than the overseer. And yet these masters would often go
beyond their overseers in wanton cruelty. They wielded the lash without
any sense of responsibility. They could cripple or kill without fear of
consequences. I have seen my old master in a tempest of wrath, full of
pride, hatred, jealousy, and revenge, where he seemed a very fiend.
The circumstances which I am about to narrate, and which gave rise to
this fearful tempest of passion, were not singular, but very common in
our slaveholding community.
The reader will have noticed that among the names of slaves, Esther
is mentioned. This was a young woman who possessed that which was
ever a curse to the slave girl--namely, personal beauty. She was
tall, light-colored, well formed, and made a fine appearance. Esther
was courted by “Ned Roberts,” the son of a favorite slave of Col.
Lloyd, who was as fine-looking a young man as Esther was a woman. Some
slaveholders would have been glad to have promoted the marriage of
two such persons, but for some reason, Captain Anthony disapproved of
their courtship. He strictly ordered her to quit the company of young
Roberts, telling her that he would punish her severely if he ever
found her again in his company. But it was impossible to keep this
couple apart. Meet they would, and meet they did. Had Mr. Anthony been
himself a man of honor, his motives in this matter might have appeared
more favorably. As it was, they appeared as abhorrent as they were
contemptible. It was one of the damning characteristics of slavery,
that it robbed its victims of every earthly incentive to a holy life.
The fear of God and the hope of heaven were sufficient to sustain many
slave women amidst the snares and dangers of their strange lot; but
they were ever at the mercy of the power, passion, and caprice of their
owners. Slavery provided no means for the honorable perpetuation of the
race. Yet despite of this destitution there were many men and women
among the slaves who were true and faithful to each other through life.
But to the case in hand. Abhorred and circumvented as he was, Captain
Anthony, having the power, was determined on revenge. I happened to
see its shocking execution, and shall never forget the scene. It
was early in the morning, when all was still, and before any of the
family in the house or kitchen had risen. I was, in fact, awakened
by the heartrending shrieks and piteous cries of poor Esther. My
sleeping-place was on the dirt floor of a little rough closet which
opened into the kitchen, and through the cracks in its unplaned boards
I could distinctly see and hear what was going on, without being seen.
Esther’s wrists were firmly tied, and the twisted rope was fastened to
a strong iron staple in a heavy wooden beam above, near the fire-place.
Here she stood on a bench, her arms tightly drawn above her head. Her
back and shoulders were perfectly bare. Behind her stood old master,
with cowhide in hand, pursuing his barbarous work with all manner of
harsh, coarse, and tantalizing epithets. He was cruelly deliberate,
and protracted the torture as one who was delighted with the agony of
his victim. Again and again he drew the hateful scourge through his
hand, adjusting it with a view of dealing the most pain-giving blow
his strength and skill could inflict. Poor Esther had never before
been severely whipped. Her shoulders were plump and tender. Each blow,
vigorously laid on, brought screams from her as well as blood. “Have
mercy! Oh, mercy!” she cried. “I wont do so no more.” But her piercing
cries seemed only to increase his fury. The whole scene, with all its
attendants, was revolting and shocking to the last degree, and when the
motives for the brutal castigation are known, language has no power
to convey a just sense of its dreadful criminality. After laying on I
dare not say how many stripes, old master untied his suffering victim.
When let down she could scarcely stand. From my heart I pitied her,
and child as I was, and new to such scenes, the shock was tremendous.
I was terrified, hushed, stunned, and bewildered. The scene here
described was often repeated, for Edward and Esther continued to meet,
notwithstanding all efforts to prevent their meeting.