"I recollect the man," said he, with a voice that might have come from the bowels of a double-bass, it was so deep, rolling, and sonorous; "he hid my boy Pompey. His name is Longshanks; he is a Quaker, a philanthropist—an abolitionist!"
"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the delighted sovereigns. "We'll hang him" (meaningme, however, and not the orator) "over the poll-window, and then vote for Hampden Jones, the friend of the law, the friend of the constitution, the friend of the south!"
"Stay, friends," said Hampden Jones, and his voice stilled the tumult; "I have a word to say on the subject of abolition."
"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the republicans; and Hampden Jones stepped up on the head of a barrel, and stretched forth his right arm. He stretched forth his left also, and then, clinching both fists, and pursing his brows together until the balls beneath them looked like rolling grape-shot, he said,—
"Gentlemen—fellow-freemen of Virginia! The bulwarks of a nation's liberties are the virtues of her children. Compared with these, what is wealth? what is grandeur? what even are power and glory? These—riches and greatness, power and renown—are the possessions of the Old World; yet what have they availed her? Look around that ancient hemisphere, and tell mewhereamong its blood-stained battle-fields!whereunder its polluted palaces! where in its haunts of the despot and the slave! you can find the love of liberty, the love of law, the love of order, the love of justice, that give permanence to the institutions they adorn, and, like the laurel crown of the Cesars, guard from the thunderbolt the temples they bind in the wreath of honour? Look for them in the Old World, but look in vain. The mighty Colossus of Christendom, once vital with virtue, lifts its decrepit bulk beyond the verge of the Atlantic, a vast and mournful monument of decay! Age and the shocks of the elements, the wash of the tempest and the lightning-stroke, have ploughed its marble forehead with wrinkles; mosses hang from its brows, and the dust of its own ruin—dust animated only by insects and reptiles, the offspring of corruption—moulders over its buried feet! The virtues that once distinguished—that almost deified—the immortal Colossus, have fled from the old, to find their home in the New World. I look for them only in the bosoms of Americans!"
Here the orator, who had pronounced this sublime exordium with prodigious earnestness and effect, paused, while the welkin rung with the shouts of rapture its complimentary close was so well fitted to inspire. As for me, I felt a doleful skepticism as to the justness of the compliment, having the very best reason to distrust that love of liberty, law, order, and justice, which was about to consign me to ropes and flames, without asking the permission of a judge and jury. Moreover, I could not exactly see how Mr. Hampden Jones's remarks on the old and new world had any thing to do with the subject of abolition, which he had risen to discuss; and, indeed, this difficulty seemed to have beset others as well as myself, several crying out with great enthusiasm, "Let's have something on abolition; and then to the Lynching!" while others exclaimed, "Let's have the Lynching first, and the speech afterward."
"Abolition, my fellow-citizens!" said the orator, "it is my intention to address you on the subject of abolition. But first let me apply what I have already said. I have said, and I repeat, that the love of liberty, of law, of order, of justice, belongs peculiarly to the free sons of America. Let me counsel, let me advise, let me entreat you, to have this noble truth in remembrance on this present occasion. Beware lest, in what you now intend to do, you give occasion to the enemies of freedom to doubt your virtue, to suspect the reality of your love of law, order, and justice, to stigmatize you as friends only of riot and outrage."
These words filled me with joyful astonishment. I began to believe the youthful Tully was about to interfere in my favour, to rebuke the violence of his adherents, and so save them from the sin of blood-guiltiness.
So also thought the indignant sovereigns themselves; and many, elevating their voices, demanded furiously, "if he meant to protect the bloody abolitionist?"
"By no means," said Mr. Hampden Jones, with great emphasis; "what I have to advise is, that if we are to do execution upon the wretch, we shall proceed about it in an orderly and dignified way, resolve ourselves into a great and solemn tribunal, and so adjudge him to death with a regularity and decorum which shall excite the admiration and win the approbation of the whole world."
"Hampden Jones for ever!" cried the sovereigns; and so it appeared that all the benefit I was to derive from his interference, was only to be despatched in an orderly manner.
Seeing this, I became horribly frightened—indeed, so much so, that I was incapable of observing properly what ensued. I have a faint recollection that Mr. Hampden Jones resumed his discourse and harangued those who would listen, on the subject he had promised to discuss; and I remember that his auditors echoed every tenth word with tremendous shouts. But what I remember better than all was, a spectacle that soon attracted my attention, being nothing less than the apparition of five or six stout negroes climbing up a tree hard by, dragging a rope after them, and tying it round a branch; all which they executed with uncommon spirit and zeal, shaking their fists at me all the time, and calling me a "cussed bobolitionist."
What was to become of me now? Had I entered the body of the most generous and humane of men only to be hanged? A cold sweat broke over me; my knees knocked together. The men who held me, held me faster. My judges, the members of the great and solemn tribunal, began to decide upon my fate with the regularity and decorum (advised by their orator) which were to win the approbation and admiration of the whole world— that is to say, by each man marching up to the orator's barrel, where stood a committee appointed to receive the votes, pronouncing his name, and voting to "hang the incendiary."
All this while, I believe, I was endeavouring to say something in my defence; but I have not the slightest recollection of what it was. Matters were coming—I may say had come—to a crisis, and my life hung upon a thread; when suddenly a negro, who had been among the most active and zealous of the volunteers on the tree, fell from a high branch to the ground, and besides breaking his own neck, as I understood by the cry that was set up, crushed two or three white men that stood below.
This produced a great hubbub, and those who had stationed themselves about me as guards ran forward to see what mischief had been done. As they ran one way, I betook me to my heels and ran another. I rushed into the nearest house; but, being instantly pursued and ousted, I fled into a garden, from which I was as quickly chased by men and dogs, the first screaming, and the second howling and barking, so that the uproar they made was inexpressible.
Fear lent me wings; but I was surrounded; and run whithersoever I might, I always found myself brought up by some party or other presenting itself in front. The exercise, while it inflamed my own terrors, only exasperated the rage of my persecutors; and I was persuaded they would tear me to pieces the moment they caught me. Judge of my feelings, then, when I found myself hemmed in on all sides in a little field on the skirts of the village, with a party close at my elbow, on which I had stumbled without seeing it until roused by its cries.
I looked up and saw that it consisted of about a dozen negroes, who were carrying the body of their companion, the unlucky volunteer who had broken his neck falling from the tree; but which body they now threw upon the ground, and with loud screams of "He-ah, mossa John!" and "He-ah, mossa Dickey!" began to scamper after me with all their might.
There was but one resource left me, and that let the reader determine hereafter of how deplorable a character. I made a successful dodge, followed by a dash right through the screaming Africans, who perhaps hesitated to lay a rough hand on one of my colour, and, reaching the body of their companion, cried, half to myself and half to the insensible clay, "It is better to be a slave than a dead man; and the scourge, whatever romantic persons may say to the contrary, is preferable, at any time, to the halter. If thou art dead, my sable brother, yield my spirit a refuge in thy useless body!"
That was the last I remember of the adventure, for I had no sooner uttered the words than I fell into a trance.
When I opened my eyes I found that I was lying in a hovel, very mean of appearance, yet with a certain neatness and cleanliness about it that prevented it from looking squalid. It is true that the floor, which was of planks, was somewhat awry and dilapidated; that the little window, which, with the door, furnished, or was meant to furnish, its only light, was rather bountifully bedecked with old hats and scraps of brown paper; and that the walls of ill-plastered logs displayed divers gleaming chinks, and vistas through them of the sunny prospects without. Nevertheless, the place did not look amiss for a poor man, and, in my experience as a philanthropist, I had seen hundreds much more miserable.
An old woman sat at the fireplace, nodding over a stew, the fumes of which were both savoury and agreeable. The old woman was, however, as black as the outside of her stew-pan—in other words, a negress; and this circumstance striking upon the chords of association, I began to remember what had lately befallen me. A terrible suspicion flashed into my mind. Had I not—but before I could ask myself the question, my hand, which I had raised to scratch my head, came into contact with a mop of elastic wool, such as never grew upon the scalp of a white man. I started up in bed and looked at my hands and arms; they were of the hue of ebony—or, to speak more strictly, of smoked mahogany. I saw a fragment of looking-glass hanging on the wall within my reach. I snatched it down, and took a survey of my physiognomy. Miserable me! myfacewas as black as my arms—and, indeed, somewhat more so—presenting a sable globe, broken only by two red lips of immense magnitude, and a brace of eyes as white and as wide as plain China saucers, or peeled turnips.
"Whaw dah!" cried the old woman, roused by the noise I made; "whaw dat, you nigga Tom? what you doin' dah? Lorra bless us! if a nigga break a neck, can't a nigga hold-a still?"
Alas! and had my fate brought me to this grievous pass? Was there no other situation in life sufficiently wretched, but that I must take up my lot in the body of a miserable negro slave? How idle had been all my past discontent! how foolish the persuasion I had indulged five different times, that I was, on each occasion, the most unhappy of men! I had forgotten the state of the bondman, the condition of the expatriated African.NowI was at last to learn in reality what it was to be the victim of fortune, what to be the exemplar of wretchedness, the true repository of all the griefs that can afflict a human being. Already I felt, in imagination, the blow of the task-master on my back, the fetter on my limb, the iron in my soul; and when the old woman made a step towards me, perhaps to discover why I made no reply to her questions, I was so prepossessed with the idea of whips and lashes, that I made a dodge under the bedclothes, as if to escape a thwack.
"Golly matty! is de nigga mad?" cried the Jezebel. "I say, you nigga Tom, what you doin'? How you neck feel now?"
"My neck?" thought I, recollecting that it had been broken, and wondering in what way it had been mended. I clapped my hands to it; it was very stiff and sore: while I felt at it, the old woman told me some great doctor had twisted a great "kink" out of it; but I bestowed little notice on what she said. My mind ran upon other matters; I could think of nothing but cowhides and cat-o'-nine-tails, that were to welcome me to bondage.
"Aunty," said I—whyI addressed the old lady thus I know not; but I have observed that negroes always address their seniors by the titles of uncle and aunt, and I suppose the instinct was on me—"am I a slave?"
"What a fool nigga to ax a question!" said she. "What you gwying to be, den, but old Massa Jodge's nigga-boy Tom? What you git up faw, ha?" —(I was making an attempt to rise)—
"Massa docta say you stay a-bed. What you git up faw, ha?"
"I intend to run away," said I; and truly that was the notion then uppermost in my mind; and it is very likely I should have made a bolt for the door that moment, had I not discovered an uncommon weakness in my lower limbs, which prevented my getting out of bed.
"Whaw! what a fool!" cried the beldam, regarding me with surprise and contempt; "what you do when you run away, ha? Who'll hab you? who'll feed you? who'll take care of you? who'll own a good-fo'-nothin' runaway nigga, I say, ha? Kick him 'bout h'yah, kick him 'bout dah, poor despise nigga wid no massa, jist as despise as any free nigga! You run away, ha? what den?" continued my sable monitress, warming into eloquence as she spoke: "take up constable, clap him in jail, salt him down cowskin. Dat all? No! sell him low price, send Mississippi—what den? Work in de cotton-field, pull at de cane. Dat all? No! cussed overseer wid a long whip—cut h'yah, cut dah, cut high, cut low—whip all day, cuff all night—take all de skin off—oh! dey do whip to de debbil in de Mississippi!" And as the old lady concluded, to give more effect to her expressions, she fell to rubbing her back and dodging her head from side to side, until I had the liveliest idea in the world of that very castigation of which I stood in such horror.
Just at this moment, to make my anguish more complete, in stepped a tall and dignified person, bearing a huge walking-stick; with which I was so certain he would proceed to maul me, that I made a second dive under the bedclothes, loudly beseeching him for mercy.
To my surprise, however, instead of beating me, he spoke to the old woman, whom he called aunt Phoebe (and who, in return, entitled him Massa Jodge), asked "if I was not light-headed?" said that "it was a great pity I had so hard a time of it," that "I was very much hurt," that "he would be sorry to lose me," and so on; and, in fine, expressed what he said in accents so humane and gentle, that I was encouraged to steal a peep at him; seeing which he sat down on a stool, felt my pulse, and giving me quite a good-natured look, asked me "if I felt in much pain?"
I was astonished that he should treat me thus, if my master. But, surveying him more intently, I perceived there was little in his appearance to justify any fears of cruelty. He was an aged man, with a head of silver that gave him an uncommonly venerable air; and, though his visage was grave, it expressed a native good-humour and amiableness. My terrors fled before his soothing accents and benevolent looks; but being still confused, I was unable to reply in proper terms to his questions; so that when he asked me, as he soon did, what I meant by crying for mercy, I made answer, "Oh Lord, sir, I was afraid you was going to beat me!" at which he laughed, and said "my conscience was growing tenderer than common;" adding, that "there was no doubt I deserved a trouncing, as did every other boy on his estate; for a set of greater scoundrels than his was not to be found in all Virginia; and if they had their deserts, they would get a round dozen apiece every day."
He then began to ask me particularly about my ailments; and I judged from his questions and certain occasional remarks which he let fall, that I had been lying insensible for several days, that my neck had been put out of place, or dislocated, and reduced again by some practitioner of uncommon skill. And here, lest the reader should think such a circumstance improbable, I beg leave to say that I have lately seen an account of a similar operation performed by an English surgeon on the neck of a fox-hunting squire; and as the story appeared in the newspapers, there can be no doubt of its truth.
While the gentleman—my master—was thus asking me of my pains, and betraying an interest in my welfare that softened my heart towards him, there came into the hovel a young lady of a very sweet countenance, followed by two or three younger girls and a little boy, all of whom seemed glad to see me, the little boy in particular, shaking me by the hand, while his youthful sisters (for all were my master's children) began to drag from a basket and display before my eyes the legs of a roasted chicken, a little tart, a jelly, and divers other dainty viands, which they had brought with them, as they said, "for poor sick Tom," and insisted upon seeing him eat on the spot. As for the young lady, the eldest sister, she smiled on them and on me (for I was not backward to accept and dispose of the savoury gifts), but told me I must not be imprudent, nor eat too much, and I would soon be well. "What!" thought I, "does a slave ever eat too much?"
It is astonishing what a revolution was effected in my feelings by the gentle deportment of my master, and the kindly act of his children. I looked upon them and myself with entirely new eyes; I felt a sort of affection for them steal through my spirit, and I wondered why I had ever thought of them with fear. I took a particular liking to the little boy, who, by-the-by, was a namesake of mine, he being Massa Tommy, and I plain Tom, and I had an unaccountable longing come over me to take him on my back and go galloping on all-fours over the grass at the door. I had no more thoughts of running away to avoid the dreadful lash, and the shame of bonds; and, my master and his children presently leaving the hovel, having first charged me to keep myself quiet and easy, I fell sound asleep, and dreamed I lay a whole day on my back on a clay-bank, eating johnny-cake and fried bacon.
The next day I was visited again by my master, and by other members of his family whom I had not seen before, and of whom I shall say nothing now, having occasion to mention them hereafter. The children brought me "goodies" as before, and little Tommy told me to "make haste and get well, for there were none of the other 'boys'"—meaning negroes—"who knew how to gallop the cock-horse half so well as I." In short, I was treated like a human being, and fed like a king, and began to grow wondrous content with my situation. The doctor also came, and having fingered about my neck for a while, declared my case to be the most marvellous one ever known, and concluded by telling me I was well enough to get up, and that I might do so whenever I chose.
Now this was a matter of which I was as well satisfied as he could be, being quite certain I never was better in my life; but I felt amazing delight in lolling a-bed, doing nothing except feeding on the good things with which my master's children so liberally supplied me; and, I believe; had they left the matter to be decided by my own will, I should have been lying on that bed, luxuriating in happy laziness, to this day. It is certain I fabricated falsehoods without number, for the mere purpose of keeping my bed; for whenever my master, who came to inquire about me at least once a day, ventured to hint I was well enough to get up if I would but choose to think so, I felt myself unaccountably impelled to declare, with sighs and groans, that I could scarce move a limb, and that I suffered endless pangs; all which was false, for I was strong as a horse, and without any pain whatever.
"Well, well," my venerable master used to say, "I know you are cheating me, you rascal. But that's the way with you all. A negro will be a negro; and, sure, I have the laziest set of scoundrels on my estate that ever ate up a good-natured master."
Unhappily, for so I then thought it, old aunt Phoebe, who had been appointed to nurse me, and who was very conscientious about her master's interest in all cases where her own was not involved, was by no means so easily imposed upon as the old gentleman; and on the seventh day after I opened my eyes, she dispelled a pleasing revery in which I was indulging, by bidding me arise and begone. I began to plead my pains: "Can't play 'possum with me!" said she; "good-for-nothin' nigga, not worth you cawn!" and, not deigning to employ any other argument, she took a broomstick to me, and fairly beat me out of the hovel. I thought it was very odd I should get my first beating of a fellow-slave, and I was somewhat incensed at the old woman for her cruelty; but by-and-by, when I had taken a seat in the sunshine, snuffed the fresh autumn air, and looked about me a little, I fell into a better humour with her, and—if that were possible—with myself.
My master's lands lay on and near the Potomac, and his house was built on a hill, which bore his own name, and gave name also to the estate—that is, Ridgewood Hill. It overlooked that wide and beautiful river, being separated from it only by a lawn, which in the centre was hollow, and ran down to the river in a ravine, while its flanks or extremities, sloping but gently in their whole course, suddenly fell down to the shore in wooded bluffs, that looked very bold and romantic from the water. In the hollow of the lawn was a little brook, that rose from a spring further up the hill, and found its way to the river through the ravine, where it made many pretty little pools and cascades among the bushes; while a creek, that was wide but shallow, swept in from the river above, and went winding away among the hills behind.
My master's house was ancient, and, I must say, not in so good repair as it might have been; but there were so many beautiful trees about it that one would not think of its defects, the more especially as it appeared only the more venerable for them. It looked handsome enough from the river; and even from the negro-huts, which were nearer the creek, it had an agreeable appearance; particularly when the children were playing together on the lawn, which they did, and sometimes white and black together, nearly all day long. They were thus engaged in their sports when aunt Phoebe drove me from the hovel; and I remember how soon my indignation at the unceremonious ejection was pacified by looking on the happy creatures, thus enjoying themselves on the grass, while my master and his eldest daughter sat on the porch, regarding them with smiles.
How greatly I had changed within a few short days! Instead of being moved by the sight of juvenile independence and happiness to think of my own bitter state of servitude, I was filled with a foolish glee; and little Tommy running up to me with shouts of joy, down I dropped on my hands and knees, and taking him on my back, began to trot, and gallop, and rear, and curvet over the lawn, to the infinite gratification of himself, his little sisters, and the children of my own colour, all of whom rewarded my efforts of horseship with screams of approbation. Now the reader will be surprised to hear it, but I, Tom the slave (I never remember to have heard myself called any thing but Tom), enjoyed this foolish sport just as much as Tommy the rider, to whom I felt, I think, some such feelings of affection—I know not how I got them, but feel them I did—as a father experiences while playing the courser to his own child. Nay, I was thrown into such good-humour, and felt so content with myself, that when my master came to me, and bade me "take care lest I should hurt myself by my exertions," I told him, in the fervour of my heart, I was doing very well, and that I was as strong as ever I had been; which caused him to laugh, and say I was growing marvellous honest of a sudden.
About this time the field-hands returned from their daily labour, and, having despatched their evening meal, they came, the women and children with them, under the trees before the door, with banjoes, fiddles, and clacking-bones (that is, a sort of castanets made of the ribs of an ox), and began to sing and dance, as was their custom always every fair evening; for my master greatly delighted, as he said, to see the poor devils enjoy themselves; in which the poor devils were ever ready to oblige him. They had no sooner begun the diversion, than I was seized with an unaccountable desire to join them, which I did, dancing with all my might, and singing and clapping my hands, the merriest and happiest of them all. And this sort of amusement, I may as well now inform the reader, we were in the habit of repeating so long as the mildness of the weather permitted.
Having thus shown myself to be perfectly cured of my broken neck, it followed that, as a slave, I was now compelled to go into the fields and labour. This I did, at first, very reluctantly; but by-and-by I discovered there was but little toil expected of me, or indeed of any other bondman; for the overseer was a good-natured man like his employer, and lazy like ourselves. I do not know how it may be with the slaves on other estates; but I must confess that, so far as mere labour went, there was less done by, and less looked for from, my master's hands, than I have ever known to be the case with the white labourers of New-Jersey. My master owned extensive tracts of land, from which, although now greatly empoverished and almost exhausted, he might have drawn a princely revenue, had he exacted of his slaves the degree of labour always demanded of able-bodied hirelings in a free state. But such was not the custom of Virginia, or such, at least, was not the custom of my master. He was of a happy, easy temper, neglectful of his interest, and though often—nay, I may say incessantly—grumbling at the flagrant laziness of all who called him master, and at the yearly depreciation of his lands, he was content enough if the gains of the year counterbalanced the expenses; and as but a slight degree of toil was required to effect this happy object, it was commonly rendered, and without repugnance, on the part of his slaves. His great consolation, and he was always pronouncing it to himself and to us, was, "that his hands were the greatest set of scoundrels in the world,"—which, if unutterable laziness be scoundrelism, was true. He was pretty generally beloved by them; which, I suppose, was because he was so good-natured; though many used to tell me they loved him because he was their "right-born master,"—that is, put over them by birth, and not by purchase; for he lived upon the land occupied by his fathers before him, and his slaves were the descendants of those who had served them.
The reader, who has seen with what horror and fear I began the life of a slave, may ask if, after I found myself restored to health and strength, I sought no opportunity to give my master the slip, and make a bold push for freedom. I did not; a change had come over the spirit of my dream: I found myself, for the first time in my life, content, or very nearly so, with my condition, free from cares, far removed from disquiet, and, if not actually in love with my lot, so far from being dissatisfied, that I had not the least desire to exchange it for another.
Methinks I see the reader throw up his hands at this, crying, "What! content with slavery!" I assure him, now I ponder the matter over, that I am as much surprised as himself, and that I consider my being content with a state of bondage a very singular and unaccountable circumstance. Nevertheless, such was the fact. I was no longer Sheppard Lee, Zachariah Longstraw, nor anybody else, except simply Tom, Thomas, or Tommy, the slave. I forgot that I once had been a freeman, or, to speak more strictly, I did not remember it, the act of remembering involving an effort of mind which it did not comport with my new habits of laziness and indifference to make, though perhaps Imighthave done so, had I chosen. I had ceased to remember all my previous states of existence. I could not have been an African had I troubled myself with thoughts of any thing but the present.
Perhaps this defect of memory will account for my being satisfied with my new condition. I had no recollection of the sweets of liberty to compare and contrast with the disgusts of servitude. Perhaps my mind was stupified—sunk beneath the ordinary level of the human understanding, and therefore incapable of realizing the evils of my condition. Or, perhaps, after all, considering the circumstances of my lot with reference to those of my mind and nature, such evils did not in reality exist. The reader may settle the difficulty for himself, which he can do when he has read a little more of my history. In the meanwhile, the fact is true: I was satisfied with my lot—I was satisfied even withmyself. The first time I looked at my new face I was shocked at what I considered its ugliness. But having peeped at it a dozen times or more, my ideas began to alter, and, by-and-by, I thought it quite beautiful. I used to look at myself in aunt Phoebe's glass by the hour, and I well remember the satisfaction with which I listened to the following rebuke of my vanity from her, namely, "All you pritty young niggurs with handsome faces is good for nothin, not wuth so much as you cawn!" In short, I was something of a coxcomb; and nothing could equal the pride and happiness of my heart, when, of a Sabbath morning, dressed in one of my master's old coats well brushed up, a bran-new rabbit-fur hat, the gift of little Tommy, a ruffled shirt, and a white neckcloth, with a pair of leather gloves swinging in one hand, and a peeled beechen wand by way of cane in the other, I went stalking over the fields to church in the little village, near to which my master resided.
I say again, I cannot account for my being so contented with bondage. It may be, however, that there is nothing necessarily adverse to happiness in slavery itself, unaccompanied by other evils; and that when the slave is ground by no oppression and goaded by no cruelty, he is not apt to repine or moralize upon his condition, nor to seek for those torments of sentiment which imagination associates with the idea of slavery in the abstract.
Of one thing, at least, I can be very certain. I never had so easy and idle a time of it in my whole life. My little master Tommy had grown very fond of me. It is strange anybody should be fond of a slave; but it is true. It appears I was what they call a mere field-hand, that is, a labourer, and quite unfit for domestic service. Nevertheless, to please Tommy, I was taken from the tobacco-fields, and, without being appointed to any peculiar duty about the house, was allowed to do what I pleased, provided I made myself sufficiently agreeable to young master. So I made him tops, kites, wind-mills, corn-stalk fiddles, and little shingle ships with paper sails, gave him a trot every now and then on my back, and had, in return, a due share of his oranges and gingerbread.
In this way my time passed along more agreeably than I can describe. My little master, it is true, used to fall into a passion and thump me now and then; but that I held to be prime fun; particularly as,—provided I chose to blubber a little, and pretend to be hurt,—the little rogue would relent, and give me all the goodies he could beg, borrow, or steal, to "make up with me," as he called it.
Little Tommy and his sisters, four in number, were the children of my master by a second wife, who had died two years before. The oldest was the young lady of whom I have already spoken, and she was, I believe, not above seventeen. Her name was Isabella, and she was uncommonly handsome. A young gentleman of the neighbourhood, named Andrews, was paying court to her. Indeed, she had a great many admirers, and there was much company came to see her.
My master's oldest son, the only child left by his first wife, lived on a plantation beyond the creek, being already married, and having children. His name was George, like his father, and the slaves used to distinguish them as "Massa Cunnel Jodge," and "Massa Maja Jodge;" for all the gentlemen in those parts were either colonels or majors. The major's seat being at so short a distance, and the plantation he cultivated a part of the colonel's great estate of Ridgewood Hill, we used to regard him as belonging still to our master's family, and the slaves on both plantations considered themselves as forming but a single community. Nevertheless, we of the south side had a sort of contempt for those of the north; for "Massa Maja," though a good master, was by no means so easy as his father. He exacted more work; and when he rode into the fields on our side, as he often did, he used to swear at us for lazy loons, and declare he would, some day or other turn over a new leaf with us.
I must again repeat what I have said, namely, that I was contented with my servile condition, and that I was so far from looking back with regret to my past life of freedom, that I ceased at last to remember it altogether. I was troubled with no sense of degradation, afflicted with no consciousness of oppression; and instead of looking upon my master as a tyrant who had robbed me of my rights, I regarded him as a great and powerful friend, whose protection and kindness I was bound to requite with a loyal affection, and with so much of the labour of my hands as was necessary to my own subsistence. What would have been my feelings had my master been really a cruel and tyrannical man, I will not pretend to say; but doubtless they would have been the opposite of those I have confessed.
The above remarks apply equally to my fellow-bondmen, of whom there were, young and old, and men and women together, more than a hundred on the two estates. The exact number I never knew; but I remember there were above twenty able-bodied men, or "full hands," as they were called, when all were mustered together. There were many, especially among the women, who were great grumblers; but that was their nature: such a thing as serious discontent was, I am persuaded, entirely unknown. The labours of the plantation were light, the indulgences granted frequent and many. There was scarce a slave on the estate who, if he laboured at all, did not labour more for himself than his master; for all had their little lots or gardens, the produce of which was entirely their own, and which they were free to sell to whomsoever they listed. And hard merchants they were sometimes, even to my master, when he would buy of them, as he often did. I remember one day seeing old aunt Phoebe, to whom he had sent to buy some chickens, fall into a passion and refuse to let the messenger have any, because her master had forgotten to send the money. "Go tell old Massa Jodge," said she, with great ire, "I no old fool to be cheated out of my money; and I don't vally his promise to pay notdat!"—snapping her fingers—"he owe me two ninepence already!" And the old gentleman was compelled to send her the cash before she complied with his wishes.
The truth is, my master was, in some respects, a greater slave than his bondmen; and all the tyranny I ever witnessed on the estate was exercised bythem, and at his expense; for there was a general conspiracy on the part of all to cheat him, as far as was practicable, out of their services, while they were, all the time, great sticklers for their own rights and privileges. He was, as I have said before, universally beloved; but his good-nature was abused a thousand times a day.
There existed no substantial causes for dissatisfaction; and there was therefore the best reason for content. Singing and dancing were more practised than hard work. In a word, my master's slaves were an idle, worthless set, but as happy as the day was long. I may say the same of myself; I certainly was a very merry and joyous personage, and my companions, who envied me for being the favourite of young master, used to call me Giggling Tom.
But there is an end to the mirth of the slave, as well as the joy of the master. A cloud at last came betwixt me and the sun; a new thought awoke in my bosom, bringing with it a revolution of feeling, which extended to the breasts of all my companions. It was but a small cause to produce such great effects; but an ounce of gunpowder may be made to blow up an army, and a drop of venom from the lip of a dog may cause the destruction of a whole herd.
Beneath the bluff, and at the mouth of the creek which divided the two plantations, was a wharf or landing, where our fishing-boats (for we had a good fishery hard by) used to discharge their cargoes, and where, also, small shallops, coming with supplies to the plantation, put out their freight. Here, one day, some seven or eight of the hands were engaged removing a cargo of timber, which had just been discharged by a small vessel; my master having bought it for the express purpose of repairing the negro-houses, and building a new one for a fellow that was to be married; for it seems, his crops of corn and tobacco had turned out unusually well, and when that happened the slaves were the first who received the benefit.
Hither I strolled, having nothing better to do, to take a position on the side of the bluff, where I could both bask in the sunshine, which was very agreeable (for it was now the end of October, though fine weather), and overlook the hands working—which was still more agreeable; for I had uncommon satisfaction to look at others labouring while I myself was doing nothing.
Having selected a place to my liking, I lay down on the warm clay, enjoying myself, while the others intermitted their labour to abuse me, crying, "Cuss' lazy nigga, gigglin' Tom dah! why you no come down work?" having employed themselves at which for a time, they resumed their labours; and I, turning over on my back and taking a twig that grew nigh betwixt my teeth, began to think to myself what an agreeable thing it was to be a slave and have nothing to do.
By-and-by, hearing a great chattering and laughing among the men below, I looked down and beheld one of them diverting himself with a ludicrous sport, frequently practised by slaves to whom the lash is unknown. He was frisking and dodging about pretty much as aunt Phoebe had done when endeavouring to show me how the whip was handled in Mississippi; and, like her, he rubbed his back, now here, now there, now with the right, now with the left hand; now ducking to the earth, now jumping into the air, as though some lusty overseer were plying him, whip in hand, with all his might. The wonder of the thing was, however, that Governor (for that was the fellow's name) had in his hand a pamphlet, or sheet of printed paper, the contents of which he was endeavouring both to convey to his companions and to illustrate by those ridiculous antics. The contents of the paper were varied, for varied also was the representation.
"Dah you go, nigga!" he cried, leaping as if from a blow; "slap on'e leg, hit right on'e shin! yah, yah, yah—chah, chah, ch-ch-ch-ch-ah! chah, chah, massa!—oh de dam overseeah! dat de way he whip a nigga!" Then pausing a moment and turning a leaf of the book, he fell to leaping again, crying—"Whatdat? datyou, Rose? what you been doin? stealin' sugah?
"Jump! you nigga gal!Hab a hard massa!So much you git for stealin' sugah!So much for lickin' lassa!
"Dem hard massa, licky de gals!
"Ole Vaginnee, nebber ti-ah!what 'e debbil's de use ob floggin' like fia-ah!"
Then came another scene. "Yah, yah, yah!—what dat? Massa Maja kickin' de pawson! I say, whaw Pawson Jim? you Jim pawson, he-ah you git'em!" And then another—"Lorra-gorry, what he-ah? He-ah a nigga tied up in a gum—
"Oh! de possum up de gum-tree,'Coony in de hollow:Two white men whip a nigga,How de nigga holla!
"Jump, nigga, jump! yah, yah, yah! did you ebber see de debbil? jump, nigga, jump! two white men whip a nigga? gib a nigga fay-ah play!
"When de white man comes to sticky, sticky,Lorra-gorr! he licky, licky!
"Gib a nigga fay-ah play!"
And so he went on, describing and acting what he affected to read, to the infinite delight of his companions, who, ceasing their work, crowded round him, to snatch a peep at the paper, which, I observed, no one got a good look at without jumping back immediately, rubbing his sides, and launching into other antics, in rivalry with Governor.
I was moved with curiosity to know what they had laid their hands on, and I descended the bank to solve the mystery. The paper had passed from the hands of Governor to those of a fellow named Jim, or Parson Jim, as we usually called him; for he was fond of praying and preaching, which he had been allowed to do until detected in a piece of roguery a few weeks before by Master Major, who, besides putting a check on his clerical propensities for the future, saluted him with two or three kicks well laid on, on the spot. It was to this personage and his punishment that Governor alluded, when he cried, "What he-ah? Massa Maja kickin' de pawson!" as mentioned above. Although a great rogue, he was a prime favourite among the negroes, who had a great respect for his learning; for he could read print, and was even thought to have some idea of writing. This fellow was employed, on the present occasion, at the ox-cart; and, as it is no part of a slave's system to do the work of others, he had been sitting apart singing a psalm, while the others were loading his cart; and apart he had remained, until a call was made upon him to explain so much of the paper, being the printed portion, as Governor could not. The paper, it is here proper to observe, had been found by Governor among the boards and scantling; though how it got there no one knew, nor was it ever discovered. It was a pamphlet, or magazine, I know not which (and the name I have unfortunately forgotten), containing, besides a deal of strange matter about slavery, some half a dozen or more wood-cuts, representing negroes in chains, under the lash, exposed in the market for sale, and I know not what other situations; and it was these which had afforded the delighted Governor so much matter for mimicry and merriment. There was one cut on the first page, serving as a frontispiece; it represented a negro kneeling in chains, and raising his fettered hands in beseeching to a white man, who was lashing him with a whip. Beneath it was a legend, which being, or being deemed, explanatory of the picture, and at the same time the initial sentence of the book, Parson Jim was essaying to read: and thus it was he proceeded:—
"T-h-e,the—dat'sde; f-a-t-e,fat—defat; o-f,ob—de fat ob; t-h-e,de—de fat ob de; s-l-a-v-e,slave—de fat ob de slave. My gorry, what's dat? Brederen, I can't say as how I misprehends dat."
"Yah, yah, yah!" roared Governor; "plain as de nose on you face.De fat ob de slave—what he mean, heh? Why, gorry, you dumb nigga, he mean—massa, dah, is whippin de fat out ob de nigger! Dem hard massa dat-ah, heh? Whip de fat out!
"Lorra-gorry, massa, don't like you whippy:Don't sell Gubbe'nor down a Mississippi!"
"Let me read it," said I.
"Youread, you nigga! whar you larn to read?" cried my friends. It was a question I could not well answer; for, as I said before, the memory of my past existence had quite faded from my mind: nevertheless, I had a feeling in me as if Icouldread; and taking the book from the parson, I succeeded in deciphering the legend—"THE FATE OF THE SLAVE."
"Whaw dat?" said Governor; "de chain and de cowhide? Does de book saydat'sde luck for nigga? Don't b'leeb 'm; dem lie: Massa Cunnel nebber lick a nigga in 'm life!"
The reading of that little sentence seemed, I know not why, to have cast a sudden damper on the spirits of all present. Until that moment, there had been much shouting, laughing, and mimicking of the pains of men undergoing flagellation. Every picture had been examined, commented on, and illustrated with glee; it associated only the idea of some idle vagabond or other winning his deserts. A new face, a new interpretation was given to the matter by the words I had read. The chain and scourge appeared no longer as the punishment of an individual; they were to be regarded as the doom of the race. The laughing and mimicry ceased, and I beheld around me nothing but blank faces. It was manifest, however, that the feeling was rather indignation than anxiety; and that my friends looked upon the ominous words as a libel upon their masters and themselves.
"What for book say dat?" cried Governor, who, from being the merriest, had now become the angriest of all; "who ebber hear of chain a nigga, escept nigga runaway, or nigga gwyin' down gin' will to Mississippi? Who ebber hear of lash a nigga, escept nigga sassbox, nigga thief, nigga drunk, nigga break hoss' leg?"
"Brudders," said Parson Jim, "this here is a thing what is 'portant to hear on; for, blessed be Gorra-matty, there is white men what writes books what is friends of the Vaginnee niggur."
"All cuss' bobbolitionist!" said Governor, with sovereign contempt—"don't b'leeb in 'm. Who says chain nigga in Vaginnee? who says cowhide nigga in Vaginnee?De fate ob de slave!Cuss' lie! An'tIslave, hah? Who chains Gubbe'nor? who licks Gubbe'nor? Little book big lie!"
And "little book big lie!" echoed all, in extreme wrath. The parson took things more coolly. He rolled his eyes, hitched up his collar, stroked his chin, and suggesting the propriety of reading a little farther, proposed that "brudder Tom, who had an uncommon good hidear of that ar sort of print, should hunt out the root of the matter;" and lamented that "it was a sort of printhecould not well get along with without his spectacles."
Thus called upon, I made a second essay, and succeeded, though not without pain, in deciphering enough of the text to give me a notion of the object for which the tract had been written. It was entitled "An Address to the Owners of Slaves," and could not, therefore, be classed among those "incendiary publications" which certain over-zealous philanthropists are accused of sending among slaves themselves, to inflame them into insurrection and murder. No such imputation could be cast upon the writer. His object was of a more humane and Christian character; it was to convince the master he was a robber and villain, and, by this pleasing mode of argument, induce him to liberate his bond-men. The only ill consequence that might be produced was, that the book might, provided it fell into their hands, convince the bondmen of the same thing; but that was a result for which the writer was not responsible—he addressed himself only to the master. It began with the following pithy questions and answers—or something very like them— for I cannot pretend to recollect them to the letter.
"Why scourgest thou this man? and why dost thou hold him in bonds? Is he a murderer? a house-burner? a ravisher? a blasphemer? a thief? No. What then is the crime for which thou art punishing him so bitterly? He is a negro, and my slave."
Then followed a demand "how he became, and by what right the master claimed him as a slave;" to which the master replied, "By right of purchase," exhibiting, at the same time, a bill of sale. At this the querist expressed great indignation, and calling the master a robber, cheat, and usurper, bade him show, as the only title a Christian would sanction, "a bill of sale signed by the negro's Maker!" who alone had the right to dispose of man's liberty; and he concluded the paragraph by averring, "that the claim was fraudulent; that the slave was unjustly, treacherously, unrighteously held in bonds; and that he was, or of right should be, as free as the master himself."
Here I paused for breath; my companions looked at me with eyes staring out of their heads. Astonishment, suspicion, and fear were depicted in their countenances. A new idea had entered their brains. All opened their mouths, but Governor was the only one who could speak, and he stuttered and stammered in his eagerness so much that I could scarcely understand him.
"Wh-wh-wh-wh-what dat!" he cried; "hab a right to fr-fr-fr-freedom, 'case Gorra-matty no s-s-s-sell me? Why den, wh-wh-wh-who'sslave? Gorra-matty no trade in niggurs! I say, you Pawson Jim, wh-wh-wh-whatyousay dat doctrine?" The parson was dumb-founded. The difficulty was solved by an old negro, who rolled his quid of tobacco and his eyes together, and said,
"Whaw de debbil's de difference? Massa Cunnel nobuyus; webornhim slave, ebbery nigga he-ah!"
Unluckily, the very next paragraph was opened by the quotation from the Declaration of Independence, that "all men were born free and equal," which was asserted to be true of all men, negroes as well as others; from which it followed that the master's claim to the slave born in thraldom was as fraudulent as in the case of one obtained by purchase.
"Whaw dat?" said Governor; "Decoration of Independence saydat? Gen'ral Jodge Washington, him make dat; and Gen'ral Tommie Jefferson, him put hand to it! 'All men born free and equal.' A nigga is a man! who saysnoto dat? How come Massa Cunnel to be massa den?"
That question had never before been asked on Ridgewood Hill. But all now asked it, and all, for the first time in their lives, began to think of their master as a foe and usurper. The strangely-expressed idea in the pamphlet, namely—that none but their Maker could rightfully sell them to bondage, and that other in relation to natural freedom and equality, had captivated their imaginations, and made an impression on their minds not readily to be forgotten. Black looks passed from one to another, and angry expressions were uttered; and I know not where the excitement that was fast awaking would have ended, had not our master himself suddenly made his appearance descending the bluff.
For the first time in their lives, the slaves beheld his approach with terror; and all, darting upon the timber, began to labour with a zeal and bustling eagerness which they had never shown before. But, first, the pamphlet was snatched out of my hands, and concealed in a hollow of the bank. Our uncommon industry (for even Parson Jim and myself were seized with a fit of zeal, and gave our labour with the rest) somewhat surprised the venerable old man. But as the timber was destined to contribute to our own comforts, he attributed it to a selfish motive, and chiding us good-humouredly and with a laugh, said, "That's the way with you, you rogues; you can work well enough when it is for yourselves."
"Dat's all de tanks we gits!" muttered Governor, hard by. "Wonder if we ha'n't a better right to work than Massa Jodge to make us?"
We had seen the last day of content on Ridgewood Hill. That little scrap of paper, thrown among us perhaps by accident, or, as I have sometimes thought, dropped by the fiend of darkness himself, had conjured up a thousand of his imps, who, one after another, took up their dwelling in our breasts, until their name was Legion. My fellow-slaves cared little now for singing and dancing. Their only desire, in the intervals of labour, was to assemble together below the bluff, and dive deeper into the mysteries of the pamphlet; and as I was the only one who could explain them, and was ready enough to do so, I often neglected my little friend Tommy to preside over their convocations.
Nor were these meetings confined to the original finders of the precious document. The news had been whispered from man to man, and the sensation spread over the whole estate, so that those who lived with the major were as eager to escape from their labours and listen to the new revelation as ourselves. Nay, so great was the curiosity among them, that many who could not come when I was present to expound the secrets of the book, would betake themselves to the bluff, to indulge a look at it, and guess out its contents as they could from the pictures. And by-and-by, the news having spread to a distance, we had visiters also from the gangs of other plantations.
It was perhaps a week or more before the composition was read through and understood by us all; and in that time it had wrought a revolution in our feelings as surprising as it was fearful. And now, lest the reader should doubt that the great effects I am about to record should have really arisen from so slight a cause as a little book, I think it proper to tell him more fully than I have done what that little book contained.
It was, as I have said, an address to the owners of slaves, and its object purported to be to awaken their minds to the cruelty, injustice, and wickedness of slavery. This was sought to be effected, in the first place, by numerous cuts, representing all the cruelties and indignities that negro slaves had suffered, or could suffer, either in reality, or in the imaginations of the philanthropists. Some of these were horrible, many shocking, and all disgusting; and some of them, I think, were copied out of Fox's Book of Martyrs, though of that I am not certain. The moral turpitude and illegality of the institution were shown, or attempted to be shown, now by arguments that were handled like daggers and broad-axes, and now by savage denunciations of the enslaver and oppressor, who were proved to be murderers, blasphemers, tyrants, devils, and I know not what beside. The vengeance of Heaven was invoked upon their heads, coupled with predictions of the retribution that would sooner or later fall upon them, these being borne out by monitory allusions to the servile wars of Rome, Syria, Egypt, Sicily, St. Domingo, &c. &c. It was threatened that Heaven would repeat the plagues of Egypt in America, to punish the task-masters of the Ethiopian, as it had punished those of the Israelite, and that, in addition, the horrors of Hayti would be enacted a second time, and within our own borders. It was contended that the negro was, in organic and mental structure, the white man's equal, if not his superior, and that there was a peculiar injustice in subjecting to bondagehisrace, which had been (or so the writer averred), in the earlier days of the world, the sole possessors of knowledge and civilization; and there were many triumphant references to Hannibal, Queen Sheba, Cleopatra, and the Pharaohs, all of whom were proved to have been woolly-headed, and as bright in spirit as they were black in visage. In short, the book was full of strange things, and, among others, of insurrection and murder; though it is but charitable to suppose that the writer did not know it.
There was scarce a word in it that did not contribute to increase the evil spirit which its first paragraph had excited among my companions. It taught them to look on themselves as the victims of avarice, the play-things of cruelty, the foot-balls of oppression, the most injured people in the world: and the original greatness of their race, which was an idea they received with uncommon pleasure, and its reviving grandeur in the liberated Hayti, convinced them they possessed the power to redress their wrongs, and raise themselves into a mighty nation.
With the sense of injury came a thirst for revenge. My companions began to talk of violence and dream of blood. A week before there was not one of them who would not have risked his life to save his master's; the scene was now changed—my master walked daily, though without knowing it, among volcanoes; all looked upon him askant, and muttered curses as he passed. A kinder-hearted man and easier master never lived; and it may seem incredible that he should be hated without any real cause. Imaginary causes are, however, always the most efficacious in exciting jealousy and hatred, In affairs of the affections, slaves and the members of political factions are equally unreasonable. The only difference in the effect is, that the one cannot, while the other can, anddoes, change his masters when his whim changes.
That fatal book infected my own spirit as deeply as it did those of the others, and made me as sour and discontented as they. I began to have sentimental notions about liberty and equality, the dignity of man, the nobleness of freedom, and so-forth; and a stupid ambition, a vague notion that I was born to be a king or president, or some such great personage, filled my imagination, and made me a willing listener to, and sharer in, the schemes of violence and desperation which my fellow-slaves soon began to frame. It is wonderful, that among the many thoughts that now crowded my brain, no memory of my original condition arose to teach me the folly of my desires. But, and I repeat it again, the past was dead with me; I lived only for the present.
A little incident that soon befell me will show the reader how completely my feelings were identified with my condition, and how deeply the lessons of that unlucky pamphlet had sunk into my spirit. My little playmate, master Tommy, who was not above six years old, being of an irascible temper, sometimes quarrelled with me; on which occasions, as I mentioned before, he used to beat me; a liberty I rather encouraged than otherwise, since I gained by it—though my master strictly forbade the youth to take it. Now, as soon as my head began to fill with the direful and magnificent conceptions of a malecontent and conspirator, I waxed weary of child's play and master Tommy, who, falling into a passion with me for that reason, proceeded, on a certain occasion, to pommel my ribs with a fist about equal in weight to the paw of a gadfly. I was incensed, I may say enraged, at the poor child, and repaid the violence by shaking him almost to death. Indeed, I felt for a while as if I could have killed him; and I know not whether I might not have done it (for the devil had on the sudden got into my spirit), had not his father discovered what I was doing, and run to his assistance.
I then pretended that I had shaken him in sport, and thus escaped a drubbing, of which I was at first in danger. The threat of this, however, sank deeply into my mind, and I ever after felt a deep hatred of both father and son. This may well be called a blind malice, for neither had given me any real cause for it.
In the meanwhile the devil was doing his work among the others, and disaffection grew into wrath and fury, that were not so perfectly concealed but that my master, or rather his eldest son, who was of a more observant disposition, began to suspect that mischief was brewing; and in a short time it was reported among us that our master had marked some of us as being dangerous, and was resolved to sell us to a Mississippi trader who was then in the county. This was reported by a spy, a house-servant, who professed to have overheard the conversation, and who reported, besides, that our master and his son were furbishing up their fire-arms, and laying in terrible supply of balls and powder.
Now whether this account was true or not I never knew, and I suppose I never shall until I am in my grave. It was enough, however, to drive us to a phrensy, those in particular who had been indicated as the intended victims of the Mississippi trader; and the more especially, as those men had wives and children, from whom they were told they were to be parted. One of these was the blacksmith of the estate, who, being a resolute and fierce-tempered fellow, instantly began to convert all the old horseshoes and iron hoops about his shop into a kind of blades or spear-heads, which we fastened upon poles, and hid away in secret places. There were among us three or four men who had muskets, with which they used to shoot wild fowl on the river, there being great abundance at this season. These weapons were also put into requisition; besides which we stored away butcher-knives and bludgeons, old scythe-blades and sickles beaten straight, until we could boast quite an armory. And here I may observe, that the faster these weapons increased upon our hands, the more deadly became our resolutions, the more fierce and malignant our desires; until, having at last what we thought a sufficiency for our purpose, we gave a loose to our passions, and determined upon a plan of proceedings that may well be called infernal.
I believe that when we began to collect these offensive weapons we had but vague ideas of mischief, thinking rather of defending ourselves from some meditated outrage on the part of our master, than of beginning an assault upon him ourselves. But now, the armory being complete, and several cunning fellows, who had been spying out among the surrounding plantations, bringing us word that the gangs (so they sometimes call the whole number of hands on a farm) of most of them were ready to strike with us for freedom; another having brought us word that a great outbreaking had already taken place south of James river, which, however, was not true; a third reminding us that we were more numerous than our masters; and a fourth bidding us remember that the negroes had once, as the little book told us, been the masters of all the white men in the world, and might be again; I say, these things being represented to us, as we were handling our arms and thinking what execution we could do with them, we shook hands together, and kissing the little pamphlet (for which we had conceived a high regard), as we had seen white men kiss the book in courts of law, we swore we would exterminate all the white men in Virginia, beginning with our master and his family.
The chief men in the conspiracy were, by all consent, the fellow called Governor, of whom I have said so much before; Parson Jim, who, although a little in the background at first, had soon taken a foremost stand, and was, indeed, the first to propose murder; myself,—not that I was really very active or fiery in the matter, but because I had become prominent as the reader of the little book; Cesar, the blacksmith; and a fellow named Zip, or Scipio, who was the chief fiddler and banjo-player, and had been therefore in great favour with the family, until he lost it by some misconduct.
The parson having uttered the diabolical proposal I mentioned before, and seeing it well received, got up to make a speech to inflame our courage. There was in his oration a good deal of preaching, with a considerable sprinkling of scraps from the Bible, such as he had picked up in the course of his clerical career. What he chiefly harped on was that greatness of the negro nation spoken of before, and he discoursed so energetically of the great kings and generals, "the great Faroes and Cannibals," as he called them, who had distinguished the race in olden time, that all became ambitious to figure with similar dignity in story.
"Whatyouspeak faw, pawson?" said Governor, interrupting him, and looking round with the air of a lord; "I be king, hah? and hab my sarvants to wait on me!"
"What you say dah, Gub'nor?" cried Zip the fiddler, with equal spirit: "You be king, I be president."
"I be emp'ror, like dat ah nigga in High-ty!" said another.
"I be constable!" cried a fourth.
"You be cuss'! you no go for de best man!" cried Governor, in a heat: "I be constable myself, and I lick any nigga I like! Who say meno, hah? I smash him brain out—dem nigga!" Governor was a tyrant already, and all began to be more or less afraid of him. "I'll be de great man, and I shall hab my choice ob de women: what you saydat? I sall hab Missa Isabella faw my wife! Who say menodah?"
"Berry well!" cried Scipio: "I hab Missa Edie"—that is, Miss Edith, the next in age, who was, however, not yet thirteen, and therefore but a poor little child.
"Brudder Zip," said Jim the parson, "I speak fust dah! The labourer is wordy ob his hiah—I shall put my hand to de plough, and I shall hab Missa Edie formywife. Arter me, if you please, brudder Zip!"
"Hold you jaw, Zip," said King Governor to the fiddler, who was ready to knock the parson down. "You shall hab Massa Maja's wife, and you shall cut his head off fust. As faw de oder niggas he-ah, what faw use ob quar'lin? We shall have wifes enough when we kills white massas; gorry! we shall hab pick!"
And thus my companions apportioned among themselves, in prospective, the wives and daughters of their intended victims; and thus, doubtless, they would have apportioned them in reality, had the bloody enterprise been allowed the success its projectors anticipated. I remember that my blood suddenly froze within my veins when the conspiracy had reached this point; and the idea of seeing those innocent, helpless maidens made the prey of brutal murderers, was so shocking to my spirit that I lost speech, and could scarce support myself on my feet.
While I stood thus confused among them, the conspirators determined upon a plan of action by which, as far as I understood it, the houses of my master and his son, the two being previously murdered, were to be set on fire at the same moment, on the following night, and at the sight of the flames the slaves on several neighbouring plantations were to fall upon their masters in like manner: after which, the gangs from all the burnt estates were to meet at a common rendezvous, and march in a body against the neighbouring village, the sacking of which they joyously looked forward to as the first step in a career of conquest and triumph—in other words, of murder and rapine.
Who would have thought that a little book, framed by a philanthropist, for the humane purpose of turning his neighbour from the error of his way, should have lighted a torch in his dwelling only to be quenched by blood! I am myself a witness that the pamphlet was not one of those incendiary publications of which so much is said, as being designed for the eyes of slaves themselves, to exasperate them to revolt. By no means; it was addressed to the master, and of course was only designed for him. Why the pictures were put in it, however, I cannot imagine, since it may be supposed the master could understand the argument and exhortation of the writer well enough without them. Perhaps they were intended to divert his children.
The book, however, whatever may have been the object for which it was written, had the effect to make a hundred men, who were previously contented with their lot in life, and perhaps as happy as any other men ordained to a life of labour, the victims of dissatisfaction and range, the enemies of those they had once loved, and, in fine, the contrivers and authors of their own destruction.
I said, that when the conspiracy reached the crisis mentioned before, I was suddenly seized with terror. I began to think with what kindness I had been treated by those I had leagued to destroy; and the baseness and ingratitude of the whole design struck me with such force, that I was two or three times on the point of going to my master, and revealing it to him while he had yet the power to escape. But my fears of him and of my fellow-ruffians deterred me. I thought he looked fierce and stern; and as for my companions, I conceited that they were watching me, dogging my every step, prepared to kill me the moment I attempted to play them false. It was unfortunate that my rudeness to Master Tommy had caused me to be banished the house; for although my master did not beat me, he was persuaded my violence in that case was not altogether jocose, and therefore punished me by sending me to the fields. Hence I had no opportunity to see him in private, unless I had sought it, which would have exposed me to observation.
The night came, and it came to me bringing such gloom and horror, that my agitation was observed by Governor and others, who railed at me for a coward, and threatened to take my life if I did not behave more like a man. This only increased my alarm; and, truly, my disorder of mind became so great, that I was in a species of stupid distraction when the moment for action arrived; for which reason I retain but a confused recollection of the first events, and cannot therefore give a clear relation of them.
I remember that there was some confusion produced by an unexpected act on the part of our master, who, it was generally supposed, designed crossing the creek to visit the major, having ordered his carriage and the ferry-boat to be got ready, and it was resolved to kill him while crossing the creek on his return; after which we were to fire a volley of guns, as a signal to the major's gang, and then assault and burn our master's dwelling. Instead of departing, however, when the night came, he remained at home, shut up with the overseer and young Mr. Andrews, his daughter's lover; and it was reported that they had barred up the doors and windows, and were sitting at a table covered with loaded pistols; thus making it manifest that they suspected our intentions, and were resolved to defend themselves to the last.
For my part, I have never believed that our master suspected his danger at all; he perceived, indeed, that an ill spirit had got among his people, but neither he nor any of his family really believed that mischief was intended. Had they done so, he would undoubtedly have procured assistance, or at least removed his children. The windows were barred indeed, and perhaps earlier than usual, which may have been accidental; and as for the fire-arms on the table, I believe they were only fowling-pieces, which my master, Mr. Andrews, and the overseer, who was a great fowler, and therefore much favoured by my master, who was a veteran sportsman, were getting ready to shoot wild ducks with in the morning.
My companions, however, were persuaded that our victims were on their guard; and the hour drawing nigh at which they had appointed to strike the first blow, and give the signal to the neighbouring gangs, they were at a loss, not knowing what to do; for they were afraid to attack the house while three resolute men, armed with pistols, stood ready to receive them. In this conjuncture it was proposed by Governor, who, from having been a fellow notorious for nothing save monkey tricks and waggery, was now become a devil incarnate, he was so bold, cunning, and eager for blood, to fire the pile of timber where it stood near the quarters, or negro-huts; the burning of which would serve the double purpose of drawing our intended victims from the house, and giving the signal to the neighbouring estates.
The proposal was instantly adopted, and in a few moments the pile of dry resinous wood was in a flame, burning with prodigious violence, and casting a bright light over the whole mansion, the lawn, and even the neighbouring river. At the same moment, and just as we were about to raise the treacherous alarm, we heard a sudden firing of guns and shouting beyond the creek at the major's house, which made us suppose the negroes there had anticipated us in the rising.