"Keep the word of promise to the ear,But break it to the hope."
"Keep the word of promise to the ear,But break it to the hope."
"Keep the word of promise to the ear,But break it to the hope."
"Keep the word of promise to the ear,
But break it to the hope."
How many of them are trifled with and lured on; buoyed up from year to year with stories, which those who tell them are resolved shall never be realized.
My memory runs back now to some such wretched recollections; and my heart shrivels and crumbles at the bare thought, like scorched paper. Oh, where is there to be found injustice like that which the American slaves daily and hourly endure, without a word of complaint? "We die daily"—die to love, to hope, to feeling, humanity, and all the high and noble gifts that make existence something more than a mere breathing span. We die to all enlargement of mind and expansion of heart. Our every energy is bound down with many bolts and bars; yet whole folios have been written by men calling themselves wise, to prove that we are by far the happiest portion of the population of this broad Union! What a commentary upon the liberality of free men!
After the conversation with Miss Bradly, the young ladies began to resume their old severity, which the death of young master had checked; but Mr. Peterkin still seemed moody and troubled. He drank to a frightful excess. It seemed to have increased his moroseness. He slept sounder at night, and later in the morning, and was swollen and bloated to almost twice his former dimensions. His face was a dark crimson purple; he spoke but little, and then never without an oath. His daughters remarked the change, but sought not to dissuade him. Perhaps they cared not if his excesses were followed by death. I had long known that they treated him with respect only out of apprehension that they would be cut short of patrimonial favors. But the death of young master had almost certainly insured them against this, and they were unusually insolent to theirfather; but this he appeared not to notice; for he was too sottishly drunk even to heed them.
The necessity of wearing black, and the custom of remaining away from places of amusement, had forced Miss Jane to decline, or at least, postpone her trip to the city.
I shall ever remember that summer as one of unusual luxuriance. It seemed to me, that the forests were more redundant of foliage than I had ever before seen them. The wild flowers were gayer and brighter, and the sky of a more glorious blue; even the little feathered songsters sang more deliciously; and oh, the moonlight nights seemed wondrously soft and silvery, and the hosts of stars seven times multiplied! I began to live again. Away through the old primeval woods I took occasionally a stolen ramble! Whole volumes of romance I drained from the ever-affluent library of Nature. I truly found—
"Tongues in the trees; books, in the running brooks,Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
"Tongues in the trees; books, in the running brooks,Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
"Tongues in the trees; books, in the running brooks,Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
"Tongues in the trees; books, in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
It is impossible to imagine how much I enjoyed those solitary walks, few and far between as they were. I used to wonder why the ladies did not more enjoy the luxury of frequent communion with Nature in her loveliest haunts! Strange, is it not, how little the privileged class value the pleasures and benefits by which they are surrounded! I would have given ten years of my life (though considering my trouble, the sacrifice would have been small) to be allowed to linger long beside the winding, murmuring brook, or recline at the fountain, looking far away into the impenetrable blue above; or to gather wild flowers at will, and toy with their tiny leaflets! but indulgences such as these would have been condemned and punished as indolence.
I cannot now, honestly, recall a single pleasure that was allowed me, during my long slavery to Mr. Peterkin. Then who can ask me, if I would not rather go back into bondage thanlive, ayelive(that is the word), with the proud sense of freedom mine? I have often been asked if the burden offinding food and raiment for myself was not great enough to make me wish to resign my liberty. No, a thousand times no! Let me go half-clad, and meanly fed, but still give me the custody of my own person, without a master to spy into and question out my up-risings and down-sittings, and confine me like a leashed hound! Slavery in its mildest phases (of which I haveonlyheard, for I've always seen it in its darker terrors) must be unhappy. The very knowledge that you have no control over yourself, that you are subject to the will, even whim, of another; that every privilege you enjoy is yours only by concession, not right, must depress and all but madden the victim. In no situation, with no flowery disguises, can the revolting institution be made consistent with the free-agency of man, which we all believe to be the Divine gift. We have been and are cruelly oppressed; why may we not come out with our petition of right, and declare ourselves independent? For this were the infant colonies applauded; who then shall inveigh against us for a practice of the same heroism? Every word contained in their admirable Declaration, applies to us.
THE AWFUL CONFESSION OF THE MASTER—DEATH; ITS COLD SOLEMNITY.
Time passed on; Mr. Peterkin drank more and more violently. He had grown immense in size, and now slept nearly all the day as well as night. Dr. Mandy had told the young ladies that there was great danger of apoplexy. I frequently saw them standing off, talking, and looking at their father with a strange expression, the meaning of which I could not divine; but sure I am there was no love in it, 'twas more like a surmise or inquiry, "How long will you be here?" I would not "set down aught in malice," I would rather "extenuate," yet am I bound in truth to say that I think their father's death was an event to which they looked with pleasure. He had not been showy enough for them, nor had he loved such display as they wished: true, he allowed them any amount of money; but he objected to conforming to certain fashions, which they considered indispensable to their own position; and this difference in ideas and tastes created much discord. They were not girls of feeling and heart. To them, a father was nothing more than an accidental guardian, whose duty it was to supply them with money.
Late one night, when I had fallen into a profound sleep, such an one as I had not known for months, almost years, I was suddenly aroused by a loud knocking at the cabin-door, and a shout of—
"Ann! Ann!"
I instantly recognized the sharp staccato notes of Miss Jane's voice; and, starting quickly up, I opened the door, but half-dressed, and inquired what was wanting?
"Are you one of the Seven Sleepers, that it requires such knocking to arouse you? Here I've been beating and banging the door, and yet you still slept on."
I stammered out something like an excuse; and she told me master was very ill, and I must instantly heat a large kettle of water; that Dr. Mandy had been sent for, and upon his arrival, prescribed a hot bath.
As quickly as the fire, aided by mine and Sally's united efforts, could heat the water, it was got ready. Jake, Nace, and Dan lifted the large bathing-tub into Mr. Peterkin's room, filled it with the warm water, and placed him in it. The case was as Dr. Mandy had predicted. Mr. P. had been seized with a violent attack of apoplexy, and his life was despaired of.
All the efforts of the physician seemed to fail. When Mr. Peterkin did revive, it was frightful to listen to him. Such revolting oaths as he used! Such horrid blasphemy as poured from his lips, I shrink from the foulness of recording.
Raving like a madman, he called upon God to restore his son, or stand condemned as unjust. His daughters, in sheer affright, sent for the country preacher; but the good man could effect nothing. His pious words were wasted upon ears duller than stone.
"I don't care a d—n for your religion. None of your hypocritical prayin' round me," Mr. Peterkin would say, when the good parson sought to beguile his attention, and lead him to the contemplation of divine things.
Frightful it was, to me, to stand by his bed-side, and hear him call with an oath for whiskey, which was refused.
He had drunk so long, and so deeply, that now, when he was suddenly checked, the change was terrible to witness. He grew timid, and seemed haunted by terrible spectres. Anon he would call to some fair-haired woman, and shout out that there was blood, clotted blood, on her ringlets; then, rolling himself up in the bed covering, he would shriek for the skies and mountains to hide him from the meek reproach of those girlish eyes!
"Something terrible is on his memory," said the doctor to Miss Jane. "Do you know aught of this?"
"Nothing," she replied with a shudder.
"Don't you remember," asked Miss Tildy, "how often Johnny's eyes seemed to recall a remorseful memory, and how father would, as now, cry for them to shut out that look which so tormented him?"
"Yes, yes," and they both fled from the room, and did not again go near their father. On the third evening of his illness, when Dr. Mandy (who had been constantly with him) sat by his bed, holding his pulse, he turned on his side, and asked in a mild tone, quite unusual to him,
"Doctor, must I die? Tell me the truth; I don't want to be deceived."
After a moment's pause, the doctor replied, "Yes, Mr. Peterkin, I will speak the truth; I don't think you can recover from this attack, and, if I am not very much mistaken, but a few hours of mortal life now remain to you."
"Then I must speak on a matter what has troubled me a good deal. If I was a good scholar I'd a writ it out, and left it fur you to read; but as I warn't much edicated, I couldn't do that, so I'll jist tell you all, and relieve my mind." Here Mr. Peterkin's face assumed a frightful expression; his eyes rolled terribly in his head, and blazed with an expression which no language can paint. His very hair seemed erect with terror.
"Don't excite yourself; be calm! Wait until another time, then tell me."
"No, no, I must speak now, I feel it 'twill do me good. Long time ago I had a good kind mother, and one lovely sister;" and here his voice sank to a whisper. "My father I can't remember; he died when I was a baby. I was a wild boy; a 'brick,' as they usin' to call me. 'Way off in old Virginny I was born and raised. My mother was a good, easy sort of woman, that never used any force with her children, jist sich a person as should raise gals, not fit to manage onruly boys likeme. I jist had my own way; came and went when I pleased. Mother didn't often reprove me; whenever she did, it was in a gentle sort of way that I didn't mind at all. I'd promise far enough; but then, I'd go and do my own way. So I growed up to the age of eighteen. I'd go off on little trips; get myself in debt, and mother'd have to pay. She an' sis had to take in sewin' to support 'emselves, and me too. Wal, they didn't make money fast enough at this; so they went out an' took in washin'. Sis, poor little thing, hired herself out by the day, to get extry money for to buy little knic-nacs fur mother, whose health had got mighty bad. Wal, their rent had fell due, and Lucy (my sister) and mother had bin savin' up money fur a good while, without sayin' anything to me 'bout it; but of nights when they thought I was asleep, I seed 'em slip the money in a drawer of an old bureau, that stood in the room whar I slept. Wal, I owed some men a parcel of money, gamblin' debts, and they had bin sorter quarrelin' with me 'bout it, and railin' of me 'bout my want of spirit, and I was allers sort of proud an' very high-tempered. So I 'gan to think mother and Luce was a saving up money fur to buy finery fur 'emselves, an' I 'greed I'd fix 'em fur it. So one night I made my brags to the boys that I'd pay the next night, with intrust. Some of 'em bet big that I wouldn't do it. So then I was bound fur it. Accordin', next night I tried to get inter the drawer; but found it fast locked. I tried agin. At length, with a wrinch, I bust it open, an' thar before me, all in bright specie, lay fifty dollars! A big sum it 'peared to me, and then I was all afired with passion, for Luce had refused me when I had axed her to lend me money. Jist as I had pocketed it, an' was 'about to drive out of the room, Lucy opened the door, an' seein' the drawer wide open, she guessed it all. She gave one loud scream, saying, 'Oh, all our hard savin's is gone.' I made a sign to her to keep silent; but she went on hallowin' and cotcht hold of me, an' by a sort of quare strength, she got her arm round me, an' her hand in my pocket, where the money was."
"You musn't have this, indeed you musn't," said she, "for it is to pay our rent."
"One desperate effort I made, an' knocked her to the floor. Her head struck agin the sharp part of the bureau, and the blood gushed from it; I give one loud yell for mother, an' then fled. Give me some water," he added, in a hollow tone.
After moistening his lips, he continued:
"Reachin' my companions, I paid down every cent of the money, principal and interest, then got my bet paid, and left 'em, throwin' a few dollars toward 'em for the gineral treat.
"About midnight, soft as a cat, I crept along to our house; and I knew from the light through the open shutter of the winder, that she was either dead or dyin'; for it was a rule at our house to have the lights put out afore ten.
"I slipped up close to the winder, and lookin' in, saw the very wust that I had expected—Lucy in her shroud! A long, white sheet was spread over the body! Two long candles burnt at the head and foot of the corpse. Three neighbor-women was watchin' with her. While I still looked, the side door opened, and mother came in, looking white as a ghost. She turned down the sheet from the body. I pressed my face still closer to the winder-pane; and saw that white, dead face; the forehead, where the wound had been given, was bandaged up. Mother knelt down, and cried out with a tone that froze my blood—
"'My child, my murdered child!' I did not tarry another minute; but with one loud yell bounded away. This scream roused the women, who seized up the candle and run out to the door. I looked back an' saw them with candles in hand, examining round the house. For weeks I lived in the woods on herbs and nuts; occasionally stoppin' at farm-houses, an' buyin' a leetle milk and bread, still I journeyed on toward the West, my land of promise. At last, on foot, after long travel, I reached Kaintuck. I engaged in all sorts of head-work, but didn't succeed very well till I began to trade in niggers; then I made money fast enough. I was a hard master. It seemed like I was the same as that old Ishmael you read of in the old book;my hand was agin every man, and every man's agin me. After while, I got mighty rich from tradin' in niggers, and married. These is my children. This is all of my story,—a bad one 'tis too; but, doctor, that boy, my poor, dead Johnny, was so like Lucy that he almost driv' me mad. At times he had a sartin look, jist like hern, that driv' a dagger to my heart. Oh, Lord! if I die, what will become of me? Give me some whiskey, doctor, I mus' have some, for the devil and all his imps seem to be here."
He began raving in a frightful manner, and sprang out of bed so furiously that the doctor deemed it necessary to have him confined. Jake, Dan, and Nace were called in to assist in tying their master. It was with difficulty they accomplished their task; but at last it was done. Panting and foaming at the mouth, this Goliath of human abominations lay! He, who had so often bound negroes, was now by them bound down! If he had been fully conscious, his indignation would have known no limits.
Miss Jane sent for me to come to her room. I found her in hysterics. Immediately, at her command, I set about rubbing her head, and chafing her temples and hands with cologne; but all that I could do seemed to fall far short of affording any relief. It appeared to me that her lungs were unusually strong, for such screams I hardly ever listened to; but her life was stout enough to stand it. The wicked are long-lived!
Miss Tildy had more self-control. She moved about the house with her usual indifference, caring for and heeding no one, except as she bestowed upon me an occasional reprimand, which, to this day, I cannot think I deserved. If she mislaid an article of apparel, she instantly accused me of having stolen it; and persisted in the charge until it was found. She always accompanied her accusations with impressive blows. It is treatment such as this that robs the slave of all self-respect. He is constantly taught to look upon himself as an animal, devoid of all good attributes, without principle, and full of vice. If he really tries to practice virtue and integrity, he gets nocredit for it. "Honest for a nigger," is a phrase much in use in Kentucky; the satirical significance of which is perfectly understood by the astute African. I knew that it was hard for me to hold fast to my principles amid such fierce trials. It was so common a charge—that of liar and thief—that despite my practice to the contrary, I almost began to accept the terms as deserved. In some cases, the human conscience is a flexile thing! but, thank Heaven! mine withstood the trial!
* * * * * * *
On the morning of the fifth day after Mr. Peterkin's illness, his perturbed spirit, amid imprecations and blasphemies the most horrible, took its leave of the mortal tenement. Whither went it, oh, angel of mercy? A fearful charge had his guardian-angel to render up.
This was the second time I had witnessed the death of a human master. I had no tears; and, as a veracious historian, I am bound to say that I regard it as a beneficent dispensation of Divine Providence. He, my tyrant, had gone to his Judge to render a fearful account of the dreadful deeds done in the body.
After he was laid out and appropriately dressed, and the room darkened, the young ladies came in to look at him. I believe they wept. At least, I can testify to the premonitory symptoms of weeping, viz., the fluttering of white pocket-handkerchiefs, in close proximity to the eyes! The neighbors gathered round them with bottles of sal-volatile, camphor, fans, &c., &c. There was no dearth of consolatory words, for they were rich. Though Mr. Peterkin's possessions were vast, he could carry no tithe of them to that land whither he had gone; and at that bar before which he must stand, there would flash on him the stern eye of Justice. His trial there would be equitable and rigid. His money could avail him nought; fortherewere allowed no "packed juries," bribed and suborned witnesses, no wily attorneys to turn Truth astray; no subtleties and quibbles of litigation; all is clear, straight, open, even-handed justice, and his own deeds, like a mighty cloud of evidence,would rise up against him—and so we consign him to his fate and to his mother earth.
But he was befittingly buried, even with the rites of Christianity! There was a man in a white neck-cloth, with a sombre face, who read a psalm, offered up a well-worded prayer, gave out a text, and therefrom preached an appropriate, elegiac sermon. Not one, to be sure, in which the peculiar virtues of brother Peterkin were set forth, but a sort of pious oration, wherein religion, practical and revealed, was duly encouraged, and great sympathy offered to thelovelyand bereaved daughters, &c., &c.
The body was placed in a very fine coffin, and interred in the family burying-ground, near his wife and son! At the grave, Miss Jane, who well understood scenic effect, contrived to get up an attack of syncope, and fell prostrate beside the new-made grave. Of course "the friends" gathered round her with restoratives, and, shouting for "air," they made an opening in the crowd, through which she was borne to a carriage and driven home.
I had lingered, tenderly, beside young master's tomb, little heeding what was passing around, when this theatrical excitement roused me. Oh! does not one who has real trouble, heart-agony, sicken when he hears of these affectations of grief?
Slowly, but I suspect with right-willing hearts, the crowd turned away from the grave, each betaking himself to his own home and pursuit.
A few weeks after, a stately monument, commemorative of his good deeds, was erected to the memory of James Peterkin.
THE BRIDAL—ITS CEREMONIES—A TRIP, AND A CHANGE OF HOMES—THE MAGNOLIA—A STRANGER.
Weeks rolled monotonously by after the death of Mr. Peterkin. There was nothing to break the cloud of gloom that enveloped everything.
The ladies were, as ever, cruel and abusive. Existence became more painful to me than it had been before. It seemed as if every hope was dead in my breast. An iron chain bound every aspiration, and I settled down into the lethargy of despair. Even Nature, all radiant as she is, had lost her former charms. I looked not beyond the narrow horizon of the present. The future held out to me no allurements, whilst the dark and gloomy past was an arid plain, without fountain, or flower, or sunshine, over which I dared not send my broken spirit.
In this state of dreary monotony, I passed my life for months, until an event occurred which changed my whole after-fate.
Mr. Summerville, who, it seems, had kept up a regular correspondence with Miss Jane, made us a visit, and, after much secret talking in dark parlors, long rambles through the woods, twilight and moonlight whisperings on the gallery, Miss Jane announced that there would, on the following evening, be performed a marriage ceremony of importance to all, but of very particular interest to Mr. Summerville and herself.
Accordingly, on the evening mentioned, the marriage rite was solemnized in the presence of a few social friends, among whom Dr. Mandy and wife shone conspicuously. I duly plied the guests with wine, cakes and confections.
Miss Tildy, by the advice of her bride-sister, enacted thepathetic very perfectly. She wept, sighed, and, I do believe, fainted or tried to faint. This was at the special suggestion of her sister, who duly commended and appreciated her.
Mr. Summerville, for the several days that he remained with us, looked, and was, I suppose, the very personification of delight.
In about a week or ten days after the solemnization of the matrimonial rite, Mr. Summerville made his "better half" (or worse, I know not which), understand that very important business urged his immediate return to the city. Of course, whilst the novelty of the situation lasted, she was as obedient and complaisant as the most exacting husband could demand, and instantly consented to her lord's request. She bade me get ready to accompany her; and, as she had heard that people from the country were judged according to the wardrobe of their servants, she prepared for me quite a decent outfit.
One bright morning, I shall ever remember it, we started off with innumerable trunks, band-boxes, &c.—for the city of L——. Without one feeling of regret, I turned my face from the Peterkin farm. I never saw it after, save in dark and fearful dreams, from which I always awoke with a shudder. I felt half-emancipated, when my back was turned against it, and in the distance loomed up the city and freedom. I had a queer fancy, that if the Peterkin influence were once thrown off, the rest would speedily succeed!
If I had only been allowed, I could have shouted out like a school-boy freed from a difficult lesson; but Miss Jane's checking glance was upon me, and 'twas like winter's frozen breath over a gladsome lake.
I well remember the beautiful ride upon the boat, and how long and lingeringly I gazed over the guard, looking down at the blue, dolphin-like waves. All the day, whilst others lounged and talked, I was looking at those same curling, frothy billows, making, in my own mind, fifty fantastic comparisons, which then appeared to me very brilliant, but, since I have learned to think differently. Truly, the foam has died on the wave.
When night came on, wrapped in her sombre purple, yet glittering with a cuirass of stars and a helmet of planets, the waters sparkled and danced with a fairy-like beauty, and I thought I had never beheld anything half so ecstatic! There was none on that crowded steamer who dreamed of the glory that was nestling, like a thing of love, deep and close down in the poor slave's breast!
To those who surrounded me, this was but an ordinary sight; to me it was one of strange, unimagined loveliness. I was careful however, to disguise my emotions. I would have given worlds (had I been their possessor) to speak my joy in one wild word, or to shout it forth in a single cry.
This pleasure, like all others, found its speedy end. The next morning, about ten o'clock, we landed in L—, a city of some commercial consequence in the West. Indeed, by old residents of the interior of Kentucky, it is regarded as "the city." I have often since thought of my first landing there; of its dusty, dirty coal-besmoked appearance; of its hedge of drays, its knots of garrulous and noisy drivers, and then the line of dusky warehouses, storage rooms, &c. All this instantly rises to my mind when I hear that growing city spoken of.
Mr. Summerville engaged one of the neatest-looking coaches at the wharf; and into it Miss Jane, baggage and servant were unceremoniously hurried. I had not the privilege and scarcely the wish to look out of the coach-window, yet, from my crowded and uncomfortable position, I could catch a sight of an occasional ambitious barber's pole, or myriad-tinted chemists' bottles; all these, be it remembered, were novelties to me, who had never been ten miles from Mr. Peterkin's farm. At length the driver drew a halt at the G—— House, as Mr. Summerville had directed, and, at this palatial-looking building Mr. Summerville had taken quarters. How well I recollect its wide hall, its gothic entrance and hospitable-looking vestibule! The cane-colored floor cloth, corresponding with the oaken walls struck me as the harmonious design of an artistic mind.
For a few moments only was Miss Jane left in the neatreception-room, when a nice-looking mulatto man entered, and, in a low, gentlemanly tone, informed her that her room was ready. Taking the basket and portmanteau from me, he politely requested that we would follow him to room No. 225. Through winding corridors and interminable galleries, he conducted us, until, at last, we reached it. Drawing a key from his pocket, he applied it to the lock, and bade Miss Jane enter. She was much pleased with the arrangement of the furniture, the adjustment of the drapery, &c.
The floor was covered with a beautiful green velvet carpet, torn bouquet pattern, whilst the design of the rug was one that well harmonized with the disposition of the present tenant. It was a wild tiger reposing in his native jungle.
After Miss Jane had made an elaborate toilette, she told me, as a great favor, she would allow me to go down stairs, or walk through the halls for recreation, as she had no further use for me.
I wandered about, passing many rooms, all numbered in gilt figures. The most of them had their doors open, and I amused myself watching the different expressions of face and manners of their occupants. This had always been a habit of mine, for the indulgence of which, however, I had had but little opportunity.
I strayed on till I reached the parlors, and they burst upon me with the necromantic power of Aladdin's hall. A continuity of four apartments rolled away into a seeming mist, and the adroit position of a mirror multiplied their number and added greatly to the gorgeous effect. There were purple and golden curtains, with their many tinsel ornaments; carpets of the gayest style, from the richest looms. "Etruscan vases, quaint and old" adorned the mantel-shelf, and easy divans and lounges of mosaic-velvet were ranged tastefully around. An arcade, with its stately pillars, divided two of the rooms, and the inter-columniations were ornamented with statues and statuettes; and upon a marble table, in the centre of one of the apartments, was a blooming magnolia, the first one I had ever seen! That strange andmysterious odor, that, like a fine, inner, sub-sense, pervades the nerve with a quickening power, stole over me! I stood before the flower in a sort of delicious, delirious joy. There, with its huge fan-like leaves of green, this pure white blossom, queen of all the tribe of flowers, shed its glorious perfume and unfolded its mysterious beauty. It seemed that a new life was opening upon me. Surely, I said, thisisfairy land. For more than an hour I lingered beside that splendid magnolia, vainly essaying to drink in its glory and its mystery.
Miss Jane and Mr. Summerville had gone out to take a drive over the city, and I was comparatively free, in their absence, to go whithersoever I pleased.
Whilst I still loitered near the flower, a very sweet but manly voice asked:
"Do you love flowers?"
I turned hastily, and to my surprise, beheld a fine-looking gentleman standing in close contiguity to me. With pleasure I think now of his broad, open face, written all over with love and kindness; his deep, fervid blue eye, that wore such a gentle expression; and the scant, yet fair hair that rolled away from his magnificent forehead! He appeared to be slightly upwards of fifty; but I am sure from his face, that those fifty years had been most nobly spent.
I trembled as I replied:
"Yes, I am very fond of flowers."
He noticed my embarrassment, and smiled most benignantly.
"Did you ever see a magnolia before?"
"Is this a magnolia?" I inquired, pointing to the luxurious flower.
"Yes, and one of the finest I ever saw. It belongs to the South. Are you sure you never saw one before?" He fixed his eyes inquiringly upon me as I answered:
"Oh, quite sure, sir; I never was ten miles from my master's farm in my life."
"You are a slave?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
He waited a moment, then said:
"Are you happy?"
I dared not tell a falsehood, yet to have truly stated my feelings, would have been dangerous; so I evasively replied:
"Yes, as much so as most slaves."
I thought I heard him sigh, as he slowly moved away.
My eyes followed him with inquiring wonder. Who could he be? Certain I was that no malice had prompted the question he had asked me. The circumstance created anxiety in my mind. All that day as I walked about, or waited on Miss Jane, that stranger's face shone like a new-risen moon upon my darkened heart. Had I found, accidentally, one of those Northern Abolitionists, about whom I had heard so much? Often after when sent upon errands for my mistress, I met him in the halls, and he always gave me a kind smile and a friendly salutation. Once Miss Jane observed this, and instantly accused me of having a dishonorable acquaintance with him. My honor was a thing that I had always guarded with the utmost vigilance, and to such a serious charge I perhaps made some hasty reply, whereupon Miss Jane seized a riding-whip, and cut me most severely across the face, leaving an ugly mark, a trace of which I still bear, and suppose I shall carry to my grave. Mr. Summerville expostulated with his wife, saying that it was better to use gentle means at first.
"No, husband," (she always thus addressed him,) "I know more about the management ofniggersthan you do."
This gross pronunciation of the word negro has a popular use even among the upper and educated classes of Kentucky. I am at a loss to account for it, in any other way than by supposing that they use it to express their deepest contempt.
Mr. Summerville was rather disposed to be humane to his servants. He was no advocate of the rod; he used to term it the relic of barbarism. He preferred selling a refractory servant to whipping him. This did not accord particularly well with Miss Jane's views, and the consequence was theyhad many a little private argument that did not promise to end well.
Miss Jane made many acquaintances among the boarders in the hotel, with whom she was much pleased. She had frequent invitations to attend the theatre, concerts, and even parties. Many of the fashionables of the city called upon her, offering, in true Kentucky style, the hospitalities of their mansions. With this she was quite delighted, and her new life became one of intense interest and gratification, as her letters to her sister proved.
She would often regret Tildy was not there to share in her delight; but it had been considered best for her to remain at the old homestead until some arrangement could be made about the division of the estate. Two of the neighbors, a gentleman and his wife, took up their abode with her; but she expected to visit the city so soon as Miss Jane went to house-keeping, which would be in a few months. Miss Jane was frequently out spending social days and evenings with her friends, thus giving me the opportunity of going about more than I had ever done through the house. In this way I formed a pleasant acquaintance with several of the chambermaids, colored girls and free. Friendships thus grew up which have lasted ever since, and will continue, I trust, until death closes over us. One of the girls, Louise, a half-breed, was an especial favorite. She had read some, and was tolerably well educated. From her I often borrowed interesting books, compends of history, bible-stories, poems, &c. I also became a furious reader of newspapers, thus picking up, occasionally, much useful information. Louise introduced me, formally, to the head steward, an intelligent mulatto man, named Henry, of most prepossessing appearance; but the shadow of a great grief lurked in the full look of his large dark eye! "I am a slave, God help me!" seemed stamped upon his face; 'twas but seldom that I saw him smile, and then it was so like the reflection of a tear, that it pained me full as much as his sigh. He had access to the gentlemen's reading-room; and through him I often had the opportunity ofreading the leading Anti-slavery journals. With what avidity I devoured them! How full they were of the noblest philanthropy! Great exponents of real liberty! at the words of your argument my heart leaped like a new-fledged bird! Still pour forth your burning eloquence; it will yet blaze like a watchfire on the Mount of Liberty! The gladness, the hope, the faith it imparted to my long-bowed heart, would, I am sure, give joy to those noble leaders of the great cause.
THE ARGUMENT.
One day, when Miss Jane and Mr. Summerville had gone out at an early hour to spend the entire day, I little knew what to do with myself as I had no books nor papers to read, and Louise had business that took her out of the house.
The day was unusually soft and pleasant. I wandered through the halls, and, drawing near a private gallery that ran along in front of the gentlemen's room, I paused to look at a large picture of an English fox-chase, that adorned the wall. Whilst examining its rare and peculiar beauties, my ear was pleasantly struck by the sound of a much-esteemed voice, saying—
"Well, very well! Let us take seats here, in this retired place, and begin the conversation we have been threatening so long."
I glanced out at the crevice of the partially open door, and distinctly recognized the gentleman who had spoken to me of the magnolia, and who (I had learned) was James Trueman, of Boston, a man of high standing and social position, and a successful practitioner of law in his native State.
The other was a gentleman from Virginia, one of the very first families (there are no second, I believe), by the name of Winston, a man reputed of very vast possessions, a land-holder, and an extensive owner of slaves. I had frequently observed him in company with Mr. Trueman, and had inquired of Henry who and what he was.
I felt a little reluctant to remain in my position and hear this conversation, not designed for me; yet a singular impulse urgedme to remain. I felt (and I scarce know why) that it had a bearing upon the great moral and social question that so agitated the country. Whilst I was debating with myself about the propriety of a retreat, I caught a few words, which determined me to stay and hear what I believed would prove an interesting discussion.
"Let us, my dear Mr. Winston," began Mr. Trueman, "indulge for a few moments in a conversation upon this momentous subject. Both of us have passed that time of life when the ardor and impetuosity of youthful blood might unfit us for such a discussion, and we may say what we please on this vexed question with the distinct understanding, that however offensive our language may become, it will be regarded asgeneral, neither meant nor understood to have any application to ourselves."
"I am quite willing and ready to converse as you propose," replied the other, in a quick, unpleasant tone, "and I gladly accept the terms suggested, in which you only anticipate my design. It is well to agree upon such restraint; for though, as you remind me, our advancing years have taken much of the fervor from our blood, and left us calm, sober, thoughtful men, the agitating nature of the subject and the deep interest which both of us feel in it, should put us on our guard. If, then, during the progress of the conversation, either of us shall be unduly excited, let the recollection of the conditions upon which we engage in it, recall him to his accustomed good-humor."
"Well, we have settled the preliminaries without difficulty, and to mutual satisfaction. And now, the way being clear, our discussion may proceed. I assume, then, in the outset, that the institution of slavery, as it exists in the South, is a monstrous evil. I assume this proposition; not alone because it is the universal sentiment of the 'rest of mankind;' but also, because it is now very generally conceded by slave-holders themselves."
"Pray, where did you learn that slave-holders ever made such a concession? As to what may be the sentiment of the 'rest of mankind,' I may speak by-and-bye. For the present, my concern is with the opinion of that large slave-holding class towhich I belong. I am extensively acquainted among them, and if that is their opinion of our peculiar institution, I am entirely ignorant of it."
"Your ignorance," said Mr. Trueman, with a smile, "in that regard, while it by no means disproves my proposition, may be easily explained. With your neighbors, who feel like yourself the dread responsibility of this crying abomination, it is not pleasant, perhaps, to talk upon it, and you avoid doing so without the slightest trouble; because you have other and more engaging topics, such as the condition of your farms, the prospect of fine crops, and all the 'changes of the varying year.' But, read the declarations of your chosen Representatives, the favorite sons of the South, in the high councils of our nation; and you will discover, that in all the debates involving it, slavery, in itself, and in its consequences, is frankly admitted to be a tremendous evil."
"Our Representatives may have sometimes thought proper to make such an admission to appease the fanaticism of Northern Abolitionists, and to quiet the agitations of the country in the spirit of generous compromise: butIam not bound to make it, andI will not make it. Neither do I avoid conversations with my neighbors upon the subject of slavery from the motive you intimate, nor from any other motive. I have frequently talked with them upon it, boldly and candidly, as I am prepared to talk to you or any reasonable man. Your proposition I positively deny, and can quickly refute." I thought there was a little anger in the tone in which he said this; but no excitement was discernible in the clear, calm voice with which Mr. Trueman answered—
"Independently of the admission of your Representatives, which, I think, ought to bind you (for you must have been aware of it, and since it was public and undisputed, your acquiescence might be fairly presumed), there are many considerations that establish the truth of my position. But I cannot indorse your harsh reflection upon the Representatives of your choice. I cannot believe them capable of admitting, forany purpose, a proposition which, in their opinion and that of their constituents, asserts a falsehood. The immortal Henry Clay and such men as he are responsible for the admission, and not one of them was ever so timid as to be under the dominion of fear, or so dishonest as to be hypocritical."
A moment's pause ensued, when Mr. Winston appeared to rally, and said,
"I do not understand, then, if that was their real opinion, how it was possible for them to continue to hold slaves. To say the least of it, their practice was not in accordance with their theory. Hence I said, that under certain circumstances and to serve a special purpose, they may have conceded slavery to be an evil. For my own part, if I were persuaded that this proposition is true, it would constrain me to liberate all my slaves, whatever may be my attachment to them or the loss I should necessarily suffer. Some of them have been acquired by purchase; others by inheritance: all of them seem satisfied with their treatment upon my estate; yet nothing could induce me to claim the property I have hitherto thought I possessed in them, when convinced of the evil which your proposition asserts."
"Nothing could be fairer, my dear Mr. Winston. Your conviction will doubtless subject you to immense sacrifices: but these will only enhance your real worth as a man, and I am sure you will make them without hesitation, though it may be, not without reluctance. Now, it is a principle of law, well settled, that no person can in any manner convey a title, even to those things which are property, greater than that which he rightfully possesses. If, for instance, I acquire, by theft or otherwise, unlawful possession of your watch or other articles of value, which is transferred, by the operation of purchase and sale, through many hands, your right never ceases; and the process of law will enable you to obtain possession. Each individual who purchased the article, may have his remedy against him from whom he procured it, however extended the series of purchasers: but, since whatever right any one of themhas was derived originally from me, and since my unlawful acquisition conferred no right at all, it follows that none was transmitted. Consequently, you were not divested, and the just spirit of law, continuing to recognize your property in the article whenever found, provides the ready means whereby you may reduce it once more to possession. This principle of law is not peculiar to a single locality; it enters into the remedial code of all civilized countries. Its benefits are accessible to the free negro in this land of the dark Southern border; and, I trust, it will not be long before those who are now held in slavery may be embraced in its beneficent operation. Whether it is recognized internationally, I am not fully prepared to say; but it ought to be, if it is not, for it is the dictate of equity and common sense. But, upon the hypothesis that it is so recognized, if the property of an inhabitant of Africa were stolen from him by a citizen of the United States, he might recover it. As for those people who, in the Southern States, are held as slaves, they or their ancestors came here originally not by their own choice, but by compulsion, from distant Africa. You will hardly deny, I presume, what is, historically, so evident—that "they were captured," as the phrase is, or, in our honest vernacular,stolenand brought by violence from their native homes. Had they been the proper subjects of property, what could prevent the application of the principle I have quoted?"
After two or three hems and haws, Mr. Winston began:
"I have never inquired particularly into the matter; but have always entertained the impression which pervades the Southern mind, that our negroes are legitimately our slaves, in pursuance of the malediction denounced by God against Ham and his descendants, of whom they are a part. And, so thinking, I believed we were entitled to the same right to them which we exercise over the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the deep. Moreover, your principle of law, which is indeed very correct, is inapplicable to their case. There is also a principle in the law of my State, incapacitating slaves to hold property. They are property themselves; and propertycannot hold property. Apart from the terrible curse, which doomed them in the beginning, they were slaves in their own country to men of their own race; slaves by right of conquest. Therefore, taking the instance you have suggested, by way of illustration, were any article of value wrested from their possession, under this additional principle, the law could not give them any redress. But, inasmuch as whatever they may acquire becomes immediately the property of their master, to him the law will furnish a remedy."
"You do not deny," and here Mr. Trueman's tone was elevated and a little excited, "that the first of those who reached this country were stolen in Africa. Now, for the sake of the argument merely, I will admit that they were slaves at home. If they were slaves at home—it matters not whether by 'right or conquest,' or 'in pursuance ofthe curse,' they must have been the property of somebody, and those who stole them and sold them into bondage in America could give no valid title to their purchasers; for by the theft they had acquired none themselves. Hence, if ever they were slaves, they are still the property of their masters in Africa; but, if your interpretation of "the curse" is correct, those masters were also slaves, and, being such, under the principle of law which you have quoted, they could not for this reason hold property. Therefore, those oppressed and outraged, though benighted people, who were first sold into slavery, to the eternal disgrace of our land, were, in sheer justice, eitherfree, or the property—even after the sale—of their African masters, if they had any; in neither case could they belong to those of our citizens who were unfortunate enough to buy them. They were not slaves of African masters: for, according to your argument, all of the race are slaves, and slaves cannot own slaves any more than horses can own horses; therefore, since no other people claimed dominion over them, they were, necessarily, free. You cannot escape from this dilemma, and the choice of either horn is fatal to your cause. Being free, might they not have held property like othernations? And, had any of it been stolen from them by those who are amenable to our laws, would not consistency compel us, who recognize the just principle I have quoted, to restore it to them? This is the course pursued among ourselves; and it ceases not with restoration; but on the offender it proceeds to inflict punishment, to prevent a repetition of the offence. This is the course we should pursue toward that down-trodden race whose greatest guilt is 'a skin not colored like our own.'
"As the case stands, it is not a question of property, but of that more valuable and sacred right, the right ofpersonal liberty, of which we now boast so loudly. What, in the estimation of the world, is the worth of those multitudinous orations, apostrophies to liberty, which, on each recurring Fourth of July, in whatever quarter of the globe Americans may be assembled, penetrate the public ear? What are they worth to us, if, while reminding us of early colonial and revolutionary struggles against the galling tyranny of the British crown, they fail to inculcate the easy lesson of respect for the rights of all mankind? In keeping those poor Africans in the South still enslaved, you practically ignore this lesson, and you trample with unholy feet that divine ordinance which commands you 'to do unto others as you would have others do unto you.' By the oppression to which we were subjected under the yoke of Britain, and against which we wrestled so long, so patiently, so vigorously, in so many ways, and at last so triumphantly, I adjure you to put an end, at once and forever, to this business of holding slaves. This is oppression indeed, in comparison with which, that which drew forth our angry and bitter complaints, was very freedom. Let us, instead of perpetuating this infamous institution, be true to ourselves; let us vindicate the pretensions we set up when we characterize ours as 'the land of liberty, the asylum of the oppressed,' by proclaiming to the nations of the earth that, so soon as a slave touches the soil of America, his manacles shall fall from him: let us verify the words engraven in enduring brass on the old bell which from the tower of Independence Hall rang out our glorious Declaration, and in deed and in truthproclaim 'Liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison doors to them that are bound.' As you value truth, honor, justice, consistency, aye, humanity even, wipe out the black blot which defiles the border of our escutcheon, and the country will then be in reality what is now only in name, afreecountry, loving liberty disinterestedly for its own sake, and for that of all people, and nations, and tribes, and tongues.
"You may still, if you choose, dispute and philosophize about the inequality of races, and continue to insist on the boasted superiority ofourCaucasian blood; but the greatest disadvantages which a comparison can indicate will not prove that one's claim to liberty is higher than another's. It may be that we of the white race, are vastly superior to our African brethren. The differences, however, are not flattering to us; for we should remember with shame and confusion of face, that our injustice and cruelty have produced them. Having first enslaved the poor Africans and subsequently withheld from them every means of improvement, it is not strange that such differences should exist as those on which we plume ourselves. But is it not intolerable that we should now quote them with such brazen self-gratulation?
"Despite the manifold disadvantages that encumber and clog the movements of the Africans, unfortunately for the validity of your argument their race exhibits many proud specimens to prove their capability of culture, and of the enjoyment of freedom. Give them but the same opportunities that we have, and they will rival us in learning, refinement, statesmanship, and general demeanor, as is incontestibly shown in the lives and characters of many now living. Such men as Fred Douglas and President Roberts, would honor any complexion; or, I ought rather to say, should make us forget and despise the distinctions of color, since they reach not below the surface of the skin, nor affect, in the least, that better part that gives to man all his dignity and worth. Nor need I point to these illustrious examples to rebut the inferences you deduce from color. Every village and hamlet in your own sunny South, can furnish anabundant refutation, in its obscure but eloquent 'colored preachers'—noble patterns of industry and wisdom, who show forth, by their exemplary bearing, all the beauty of holiness,—'allure to brighter worlds and lead the way.'"
It is impossible to furnish even the faintest description of the pleading earnestness of the speaker's tone. His full, round, rich voice, grew intense, low and silvery in its harmonious utterance. As he pronounced the last sentence, it was with difficulty I could repress a cry of applause. Oh, surely, surely, I thought, our cause, the African's cause, is not helpless, is not lost, whilst it still possesses such an advocate. My eyes overflowed with grateful tears, and I longed to kiss the hem of his garment.
"You forget," answered Mr. Winston, "or you would do well to consider, that these cases are exceptional cases, which neither preclude my inferences nor warrant your assumption."
"Exceptions, indeed, they are; but why?" inquired Mr. Trueman. "Exceptions, you know, prove the rule. Now, you infer from the sooty complexion of the Africans, a natural and necessary incapacity for the blessings of self-government and the refinements of education. I have mentioned individuals of this fatal complexion who are in the wise enjoyment of these sublime privileges: one of them has acquired an enviable celebrity as an orator, the other is the accomplished President of the infant Liberian Republic. If color incapacitated, as you seem to think, it would affect all alike; but it has not incapacitated these, therefore it does not incapacitate at all. These are exceptions not to the generalcapacityof the blacks, but only to their general opportunity. What they have done others may do—the opportunities being equal."
"I have listened to you entire argument," rejoined Mr. Winston, "very patiently, with the expectation of hearing the proposition sustained with which you so vauntingly set out. You will, perhaps, accord to me the credit of being—what in this age of ceaseless talk is rarely met—'a good listener.' But, after all my patience and attention, I am still unsatisfied—if notunshaken. You have failed to meet the argument drawn from the 'curse' pronounced on the progenitors of the unfortunate race: you have failed to present or notice what is generally considered by theologians and moralists the right of a purchaser—in your illustration from stolen goods—to something for the money with which he parts; and here, I think, you manifested great unfairness; and, above all, you have failed to propose any feasible remedy for the state of things against which you inveigh. What have you to say on these material points?"
"Very much, my good sir, as you will find, if, instead of taking advantage of every momentary pause to make out such a 'failure' as you desire, you only prolong your very complimentary patience. I wish you to watch the argument narrowly; to expose the faintest flaw you can detect in it; and, at the end, if unsatisfied, cry out 'failure,' or let it wring from you a reluctant confession. You will, at least, before I shall have done, withdraw the illiberal imputation of unfairness. It would be an easy task for me to anticipate all you can say, and to refute it; but such a course would leave you nothing to say, and, since I intend this discussion to be strictly a conversation, I shall leave you at liberty to present your own arguments in your own way. Now, as to the argument from 'the curse,' you must permit me to observe, that your interpretation is too free and latitudinarian. Mine is more literal, more in accordance with the character of God; it fully satisfies the Divine vengeance, and, whether correct or not, has, at least, as much authority in its favor. Granting the dominion of the white over the black race to be in virtue of 'the curse,' it by no means conveys such power as your Southern institution seeks to justify. The wordslavenowhere occurs in that memorable malediction; but there is an obvious distinction betweenitsimport and that of the wordservant, which itdoesemploy. Surely, for the offence of looking upon the nakedness of his father, Ham could not have incurred and entailed upon his posterity a heavier punishment than they would necessarily suffer as thesimple servants of their brethren. And this consideration should induce you to give them, at least, the same share of freedom as is enjoyed by thewhite servantsto be found in many a household in the South. Such servitude would be the utmost that a merciful God could require. Even this, however, was under the old dispensation; and the reign of its laws, customs, and punishments, should melt under the genial rays of the sun of Christianity. Many of your own patriots, headed by Washington and Jefferson, have long since thought so; and but few in these days plead 'the curse' as excuse or justification for that 'damned spot' which all will come ultimately to consider the disgrace of this enlightened age and nation. As to your next point, the right which a purchaser of stolen goods may acquire in them in consideration of the money which he pays, I grant all the benefit that even the most generous theologian or moralist can allow in the best circumstances of such a case. And what does this amount to? A return of the purchase-money, with a reasonable or very high rate of interest for the detention, would be as much as any one could demand. Applying this to the case of the stolen Africans, how many of those who were forced from their native land to this have died on their master's hands without yielding by their labor, not alone the principal, but a handsome percentage upon the money invested in their purchase? Thus purchasers were indemnified—abundantly indemnified, against loss. The indemnity, however, should have been sought from the seller, not from the article or person sold. But, at best, purchasers of stolen goods, to entitle themselves to any indemnity, should at least be innocent; for if they buy such goods,knowing them to be stolen, they are guilty of a serious misdemeanor, which is everywhere punishable under the law. 'He who asks equity must do equity.' When, therefore, you of the South would realize the benefit of the concession of theologians and moralists—the benefit of justice—you should bring yourselves within the conditions they require; you should come into court with clean hands, and with the intention of acting in good faith. Have you done so?Did your fathers do so before you? Not at all. They were not ignorant purchasers of the poor, ravished African; they knew full well that he had been stolen and brought by violence from his distant home: consequently, they were guilty of a misdemeanor in purchasing; consequently, too, they come not within the case proposed by the theologians and moralists, which might entitle them to indemnity; nor were they in a condition to ask it. The present generation, claiming through them, find themselves in the same predicament, with the same title only, and the same unclean hands, perpetuating their foul oppression. None of them, as I have shown, had a right to claim indemnity by reason of having invested their money in that way; and, if they ever had such right, they have been richly indemnified already. Therefore, it is absurd for you to continue the slave business upon this plea. Having thus answered your only objections to my position, I might remind you of your determination, and call upon you to 'liberate your slaves,' and take sides with me in opposition to the cruel institution. You are greatly mistaken in supposing that my omission to propose a plan, by which slave-holders couldconveniently, and without pecuniary loss, emancipate their slaves, constitutes the slightest objection to the argument I have advanced. If you defer their emancipation until such a plan is proposed; if you are unwilling to incur even a little sacrifice, what nobility will there be in the act, to entitle you to the consideration of the just and good, or to the approval of your own consciences? I sought by this discussion, to convince you that slavery is an enormous evil; the proposition was declared in all its boldness. You volunteered a pledge to release your slaves if I could sustain it, let the sacrifice be what it might. Some sacrifice, then, you must have anticipated; and, should your conviction now demand it, you have no cause to complain of me. Your pledge was altogether voluntary; I did not even ask it; nor did I design to suggest any such plan of universal emancipation as would suit theconvenienceof everybody. I am not so extravagantly silly as to hope to do that. But, after all, why wait for aplan?Immediate, universal emancipation is not impracticable, and numberless methods might and would at once be devised, if the people of your States were sincere when they profess to desire its accomplishment. Theirrealwish, however, whatever it may be, need not interfere between your individual pledge, and its prompt fulfilment."
Mr. Trueman paused for full five minutes, and, as I peered out from my hiding-place, I thought there was a very quizzical sort of expression on his fine face.
"Well, what have you to say?" he at length asked.
"It seems to me," Mr. Winston began, in an angry tone, "you speak very flippantly and very wildly about general emancipation. Consider, sir, that slavery is so woven into our society, that there is scarcely a family that would not be more or less affected by a change. Fundamental alterations in society, to be safely made, must be the slow work of years: