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[1]
A
SLAVE AMONG SLAVES
I WAS born a slave on a
plantation in Franklin County, Virginia. I am not quite sure of the exact
place or exact date of my birth, but at any rate I suspect I must have been
born somewhere and at some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I
was born near a cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year was
1858 or 1859. I do not know the month or the day. The earliest impressions I
can now recall are of the plantation and the slave quarters -- the latter
being the part of the plantation where the slaves had their cabins.
My life had its beginning in
the midst of the most miserable, desolate, and discouraging surroundings.
This was so, however, not because my owners were especially cruel, for they
were not, as compared with many others. I was born in a typical [2]log
cabin, about fourteen by sixteen feet square.In this cabin I lived with my
mother and a brotherand sister till after the Civil War, when we were
alldeclared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost
nothing. In the slave quarters, and even later, I heard whispered
conversations among the coloured people of the tortures which the slaves,
including, no doubt, my ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the
middle passage of the slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to
America. I have been unsuccessful in securing any information that would
throw any accurate light upon the history of my family beyond my mother.
She, I remember, had a half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of
slavery not very much attention was given to family history and family
records - that is, black family records. My mother, I suppose, attracted the
attention of a purchaser who was afterward my owner and hers. Her addition
to the slave family attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a
new horse or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do not
even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he was a white
man who lived on one of the near-by plantations. Whoever he was, I never
heard of his taking the least interest in me or providing in any way for my
rearing. But I do not [3]find especial fault with
him. He was simplyanother unfortunate victim of the institution whichthe
Nation unhappily had engrafted upon it at thattime.
The cabin was not only our
living-place, but was also used as the kitchen for the plantation. My mother
was the plantation cook. The cabin was without glass windows; it had only
openings in the side which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air
of winter. There was a door to the cabin - that is, something that was
called a door - but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung, and the large
cracks in it, to say nothing of the fact that it was too small, made the
room a very uncomfortable one. In addition to these openings there was, in
the lower right-hand corner of the room, the "cat-hole," - a
contrivance which almost every mansion or cabin in Virginia possessed during
the ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square opening, about
seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of letting the cat pass in
and out of the house at will during the night. In the case of our particular
cabin I could never understand the necessity for this convenience, since
there were at least a half-dozen other places in the cabin that would have
accommodated the cats. There was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked
earth being used as a floor. [4]In the centre of the
earthen floor there was a large,deep opening covered with boards, which was
usedas a place in which to store sweet potatoes duringthe winter. An
impression of this potato-hole isvery distinctly engraved upon my memory,
becauseI recall that during the process of puttingthe potatoes in or taking
them out I would often comeinto possession of one or two, which I roasted
andthoroughly enjoyed. There was no cooking-stoveon our plantation, and all
the cooking for thewhites and slaves my mother had to do over anopen
fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets."While the poorly built
cabin caused us to sufferwith cold in the winter, the heat from the open
fire-place in summer was equally trying.
The early years of my life,
which were spent in the little cabin, were not very different from those of
thousands of other slaves. My mother, of course, had little time in which to
give attention to the training of her children during the day. She snatched
a few moments for our care in the early morning before her work began, and
at night after the day's work was done. One of my earliest recollections is
that of my mother cooking a chicken late at night, and awakening her
children for the purpose of feeding them. How or where she got it I do not
know. I presume, however, it was [5]procured from our
owner's farm. Some people maycall this theft. If such a thing were to
happennow, I should condemn it as theft myself. But taking place at the time
it did, and for the reasonthat it did, no one could ever make me believe
thatmy mother was guilty of thieving. She was simplya victim of the system
of slavery. I cannot rememberhaving slept in a bed until after our familywas
declared free by the Emancipation Proclamation.Three children - John, my
older brother,Amanda, my sister, and myself - had a pallet onthe dirt floor,
or, to be more correct, we slept inand on a bundle of filthy rags laid upon
the dirtfloor.
I was asked not long ago to
tell something about the sports and pastimes that I engaged in during my
youth. Until that question was asked it had never occurred to me that there
was no period of my life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can
remember anything, almost every day of my life has been occupied in some
kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more useful man if I had had
time for sports. During the period that I spent in slavery I was not large
enough to be of much service, still I was occupied most of the time in
cleaning the yards, carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the
mill, [6]to which I used to take the corn, once a
week, tobe ground. The mill was about three miles fromthe plantation. This
work I always dreaded. Theheavy bag of corn would be thrown across the
backof the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each side; but in
some way, almost without exception, on these trips, the corn would so shift
as tobecome unbalanced and would fall off the horse,and often I would fall
with it. As I was notstrong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, Iwould
have to wait, sometimes for many hours, tilla chance passer-by came along
who would help meout of my trouble. The hours while waiting forsome one were
usually spent in crying. The timeconsumed in this way made me late in
reaching themill, and by the time I got my corn ground andreached home it
would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led
through denseforests. I was always frightened. The woodswere said to be full
of soldiers who had desertedfrom the army, and I had been told that the
firstthing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he foundhim alone was to cut
off his ears. Besides, when Iwas late in getting home I knew I would
alwaysget a severe scolding or a flogging.
I had no schooling whatever
while I was a slave, though I remember on several occasions I went as [7]far
as the schoolhouse door with one of my youngmistresses to carry her books.
The picture ofseveral dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engagedin study
made a deep impression upon me,and I had the feeling that to get into a
schoolhouseand study in this way would be about thesame as getting into
paradise.
So far as I can now recall,
the first knowledge that I got of the fact that we were slaves, and that
freedom of the slaves was being discussed, was early one morning before day,
when I was awakened by my mother kneeling over her children and fervently
praying that Lincoln and his armies might be successful, and that one day
she and her children might be free. In this connection I have never been
able to understand how the slaves throughout the South, completely ignorant
as were the masses so far as books or newspapers were concerned, were able
to keep themselves so accurately and completely informed about the great
National questions that were agitating the country. From the time that
Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the slaves
throughout the South kept in close touch with the progress of the movement.
Though I was a mere child during the preparation for the Civil War and
during the war itself, I now recall the many late-at-night [8]whispered
discussions that I heard my mother andthe other slaves on the plantation
indulge in.These discussions showed that they understood thesituation, and
that they kept themselves informedof events by what was termed the
"grape-vine"telegraph.
During the campaign when
Lincoln was first a candidate for the Presidency, the slaves on our far-off
plantation, miles from any railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew
what the issues involved were. When war was begun between the North and the
South, every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though other issues
were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery. Even the most ignorant
members of my race on the remote plantations felt in their hearts, with a
certainty that admitted of no doubt, that the freedom of the slaves would be
the one great result of the war, if the Northern armies conquered. Every
success of the Federal armies and every defeat of the Confederate forces was
watched with the keenest and most intense interest. Often the slaves got
knowledge of the results of great battles before the white people received
it. This news was usually gotten from the coloured man who was sent to the
post-office for the mail. In our case the post-office was about three miles
from the plantation and the mail came once or twice a week. The [9]man
who was sent to the office would linger aboutthe place long enough to get
the drift of theconversation from the group of white people whonaturally
congregated there, after receiving theirmail, to discuss the latest news.
The mail-carrieron his way back to our master's house would asnaturally retail
the news that he had secured amongthe slaves, and in this way they often
heard of important events before the white people at the
"bighouse," as the master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single
instance during my childhood or early boyhood when our entire family sat
down to the table together, and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate
a meal in a civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later,
meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get theirs. It
was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there. It was a cup of milk at
one time and some potatoes at another. Sometimes a portion of our family
would eat out of the skillet or pot, while some one else would eat from a
tin plate held on the knees, and often using nothing but the hands with
which to hold the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required
to go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the
table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley. Naturally
much of the [10]conversation of the white people
turned upon thesubject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed agood deal of
it. I remember that at one time I sawtwo of my young mistresses and some
lady visitorseating ginger-cakes, in the yard. At that time thosecakes
seemed to me to be absolutely the most temptingand desirable things that I
had ever seen; and Ithen and there resolved that, if I ever got free,
theheight of my ambition would be reached if I couldget to the point where I
could secure and eatginger-cakes in the way that I saw those ladiesdoing.
Of course as the war was
prolonged the white people, in many cases, often found it difficult to
secure food for themselves. I think the slaves felt the deprivation less
than the whites, because the usual diet for the slaves was corn bread and
pork, and these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar,
and other articles which the whites had been accustomed to use could not be
raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought about by the war
frequently made it impossible to secure these things. The whites were often
in great straits. Parched corn was used for coffee, and a kind of black
molasses was used instead of sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten
the so-called tea and coffee. [11]
The first pair of shoes that
I recall wearing were wooden ones. They had rough leather on the top, but
the bottoms, which were about an inch thick, were of wood. When I walked
they made a fearful noise, and besides this they were very inconvenient
since there was no yielding to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing
them one presented an exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal
that I was forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing of a
flax shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was common to use
flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax from
which our clothing was made was largely the refuse, which of course was the
cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any torture, except,
perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that caused by putting on
a new flax shirt for the first time. It is almost equal to the feeling that
one would experience if he had a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred
small pin-points, in contact with his flesh. Even to this day I can recall
accurately the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of these
garments. The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to the pain. But
I had no choice. I had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left
to me to choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering. [12]In
connection with the flax shirt, my brother John,who is several years older
than I am, performed oneof the most generous acts that I ever heard of
oneslave relative doing for another. On several occasionswhen I was being
forced to wear a new flax shirt,he generously agreed to put it on in my
stead andwear it for several days, till it was "broken in."Until I
had grown to be quite a youth this singlegarment was all that I wore.
One may get the idea, from
what I have said, that there was bitter feeling toward the white people on
the part of my race, because of the fact that most of the white population
was away fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in
slavery if the South was successful. In the case of the slaves on our place
this was not true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave
population in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like
decency. During the Civil War one of my young masters was killed, and two
were severely wounded. I recall the feeling of sorrow which existed among
the slaves when they heard of the death of "Mars' Billy." It was
no sham sorrow, but real. Some of the slaves had nursed "Mars'
Billy"; others had played with him when he was a child. "Mars'
Billy" had begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or
master was [13]thrashing them. The sorrow in the
slave quarterwas only second to that in the "big house." Whenthe
two young masters were brought home woundedthe sympathy of the slaves was
shown in manyways. They were just as anxious to assist in thenursing as the
family relatives of the wounded.Some of the slaves would even beg for the
privilegeof sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters.This
tenderness and sympathy on the part of thoseheld in bondage was a result of
their kindly andgenerous nature. In order to defend and protectthe women and
children who were left on theplantations when the white males went to war,
the slaveswould have laid down their lives. The slave whowas selected to
sleep in the "big house" during theabsence of the males was
considered to have the placeof honour. Any one attempting to harm
"youngMistress" or "old Mistress" during the nightwould
have had to cross the dead body of the slaveto do so. I do not know how many
have noticed it,but I think that it will be found to be true that thereare
few instances, either in slavery or freedom, inwhich a member of my race has
been known tobetray a specific trust.
As a rule, not only did the
members of my race entertain no feelings of bitterness against the whites
before and during the war, but there are many [14]instances
of Negroes tenderly caring for theirformer masters and mistresses who for
some reasonhave become poor and dependent since the war. Iknow of instances
where the former masters ofslaves have for years been supplied with money
bytheir former slaves to keep them from suffering. Ihave known of still
other cases in which the formerslaves have assisted in the education of the
descendantsof their former owners. I know of a case ona large plantation in
the South in which a youngwhite man, the son of the former owner of the
estate,has become so reduced in purse and self-control byreason of drink
that he is a pitiable creature; andyet, notwithstanding the poverty of the
colouredpeople themselves on this plantation, they have foryears supplied
this young white man with thenecessities of life. One sends him a little
coffeeor sugar, another a little meat, and so on. Nothingthat the coloured
people possess is too good for theson of "old Mars' Tom," who will
perhaps never bepermitted to suffer while any remain on theplace who knew
directly or indirectly of "oldMars' Tom."
I have said that there are
few instances of a member of my race betraying a specific trust. One of the
best illustrations of this which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave
from Virginia [15]whom I met not long ago in a
little town in thestate of Ohio. I found that this man had made acontract
with his master, two or three years previousto the Emancipation
Proclamation, to the effectthat the slave was to be permitted to buy
himself,by paying so much per year for his body; and whilehe was paying for
himself, he was to be permittedto labour where and for whom he pleased.
Findingthat he could secure better wages in Ohio, he wentthere. When freedom
came, he was still in debt tohis master some three hundred dollars.
Notwithstandingthat the Emancipation Proclamation freedhim from any
obligation to his master, this blackman walked the greater portion of the
distance backto where his old master lived in Virginia, and placedthe last
dollar, with interest, in his hands. In talkingto me about this, the man
told me that heknew that he did not have to pay the debt, butthat he had
given his word to his master, and hisword he had never broken. He felt that
he couldnot enjoy his freedom till he had fulfilled hispromise.
From some things that I have
said one may get the idea that some of the slaves did not want freedom. This
is not true. I have never seen one who did not want to be free, or one who
would return to slavery. [16]
I pity from the bottom of my
heart any nation or body of people that is so unfortunate as to get
entangled in the net of slavery. I have long since ceased to cherish any
spirit of bitterness against the Southern white people on account of the
enslavement of my race. No one section of our country was wholly responsible
for its introduction, and, besides, it was recognized and protected for
years by the General Government. Having once got its tentacles fastened on
to the economic and social life of the Republic, it was no easy matter for
the country to relieve itself of the institution. Then, when we rid
ourselves of prejudice, or racial feeling, and look facts in the face, we
must acknowledge that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral wrong of
slavery, the ten million Negroes inhabiting this country, who themselves or
whose ancestors went through the school of American slavery, are in a
stronger and more hopeful condition, materially, intellectually, morally,
and religiously, than is true of an equal number of black people in any
other portion of the globe. This is so to such an extent that Negroes in
this country, who themselves or whose forefathers went through the school of
slavery, are constantly returning to Africa as missionaries to enlighten
those who remained in the fatherland. This I say, not to justify slavery -
on the other hand, I [17]condemn it as an
institution, as we all know that inAmerica it was established for selfish
and financialreasons, and not from a missionary motive - but tocall
attention to a fact, and to show how Providenceso often uses men and
institutions to accomplish apurpose. When persons ask me in these days
how,in the midst of what sometimes seem hopelesslydiscouraging conditions, I
can have such faith inthe future of my race in this country, I remindthem of
the wilderness through which and out ofwhich, a good Providence has already
led us.
Ever since I have been old
enough to think for myself, I have entertained the idea that,
notwithstanding the cruel wrongs inflicted upon us, the black man got nearly
as much out of slavery as the white man did. The hurtful influences of the
institution were not by any means confined to the Negro. This was fully
illustrated by the life upon our own plantation. The whole machinery of
slavery was so constructed as to cause labour, as a rule, to be looked upon
as a badge of degradation, of inferiority. Hence labour was something that
both races on the slave plantation sought to escape. The slave system on our
place, in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help
out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one,
so far as I know, ever mastered [18]a single trade
or special line of productiveindustry. The girls were not taught to cook,
sew,or to take care of the house. All of this was leftto the slaves. The
slaves, of course, had little personal interest in the life of the
plantation, and their ignorance prevented them from learning how to dothings
in the most improved and thorough manner.As a result of the system, fences
were out of repair,gates were hanging half off the hinges, doorscreaked,
window-panes were out, plastering hadfallen but was not replaced, weeds grew
in theyard. As a rule, there was food for whites andblacks, but inside the
house, and on the diningroom table, there was wanting that delicacy
andrefinement of touch and finish which can make ahome the most convenient,
comfortable, and attractiveplace in the world. Withal there was a wasteof
food and other materials which was sad. Whenfreedom came, the slaves were
almost as well fittedto begin life anew as the master, except in thematter
of book-learning and ownership of property.The slave owner and his sons had
mastered nospecial industry. They unconsciously had imbibedthe feeling that
manual labour was not the properthing for them. On the other hand, the
slaves,in many cases, had mastered some handicraft, andnone were ashamed,
and few unwilling, to labour. [19]
Finally the war closed, and
the day of freedom came. It was a momentous and eventful day to all upon our
plantation. We had been expecting it. Freedom was in the air, and had been
for months. Deserting soldiers returning to their homes were to be seen
every day. Others who had been discharged, or whose regiments had been
paroled, were constantly passing near our place. The "grape-vine
telegraph" was kept busy night and day. The news and mutterings of
great events were swiftly carried from one plantation to another. In the
fear of "Yankee" invasions, the silverware and other valuables
were taken from the "big house," buried in the woods, and guarded
by trusted slaves. Woe be to any one who would have attempted to disturb the
buried treasure. The slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink,
clothing - anything but that which had been specifically intrusted to their
care and honour. As the great day drew nearer, there was more singing in the
slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had more ring, and lasted later
into the night. Most of the verses of the plantation songs had some
reference to freedom. True, they had sung those same verses before, but they
had been careful to explain that the "freedom" in these songs
referred to the next world, and had no connection [20]with
life in this world. Now they gradually threwoff the mask, and were not
afraid to let it be knownthat the "freedom" in their songs meant
freedomof the body in this world. The night before theeventful day, word was
sent to the slave quartersto the effect that something unusual was going
totake place at the "big house" the next morning. There was
little, if any, sleep that night. All wasexcitement and expectancy. Early
the next morningword was sent to all the slaves, old and young,to gather at
the house. In company with mymother, brother, and sister, and a large number
ofother slaves, I went to the master's house. Allof our master's family were
either standing orseated on the veranda of the house, where theycould see
what was to take place and hear whatwas said. There was a feeling of deep
interest, orperhaps sadness, on their faces, but not bitterness.As I now
recall the impression they made upon me,they did not at the moment seem to
be sad becauseof the loss of property, but rather because of partingwith
those whom they had reared and who werein many ways very close to them. The
most distinctthing that I now recall in connection with thescene was that
some man who seemed to be astranger (a United States officer, I presume)
madea little speech and then read a rather long paper - [21]the
Emancipation Proclamation, I think. Afterthe reading we were told that we
were all free, andcould go when and where we pleased. My mother,who was
standing by my side, leaned over andkissed her children, while tears of joy
ran downher cheeks. She explained to us what it all meant,that this was the
day for which she had been solong praying, but fearing that she would
neverlive to see.
For some minutes there was
great rejoicing, and thanksgiving, and wild scenes of ecstasy. But there was
no feeling of bitterness. In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our
former owners. The wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated coloured
people lasted but for a brief period, for I noticed that by the time they
returned to their cabins there was a change in their feelings. The great
responsibility of being free, of having charge of themselves, of having to
think and plan for themselves and their children, seemed to take possession
of them. It was very much like suddenly turning a youth of ten or twelve
years out into the world to provide for himself. In a few hours the great
questions with which the Anglo-Saxon race had been grappling for centuries
had been thrown upon these people to be solved. These were the questions of
a home, a living, the rearing of children, [22]education,
citizenship, and the establishment andsupport of churches. Was it any wonder
thatwithin a few hours the wild rejoicing ceased and afeeling of deep gloom
seemed to pervade the slavequarters? To some it seemed that, now that
theywere in actual possession of it, freedom was a moreserious thing than
they had expected to find it.Some of the slaves were seventy or eighty
yearsold; their best days were gone. They had nostrength with which to earn
a living in a strangeplace and among strange people, even if they hadbeen
sure where to find a new place of abode. Tothis class the problem seemed
especially hard. Besides, deep down in their hearts there was a strangeand
peculiar attachment to "old Marster" and"old Missus,"
and to their children, which theyfound it hard to think of breaking off.
With thesethey had spent in some cases nearly a half-century,and it was no
light thing to think of parting.Gradually, one by one, stealthily at first,
the olderslaves began to wander from the slave quarters backto the "big
house" to have a whispered conversationwith their former owners as to
the future. |
