Creation fires my tongue!Nature, thy anthems raise,And spread the universal songOf thy Creator's praise.When each revolving wheelAssumed its sphere sublime,Submissive Earth then heard the peal,And struck the march of time.The march in heaven begun,And splendor filled the skies,When Wisdom bade the morning sunWith joy from chaos rise.The angels heard the tuneThroughout creation ring;They seized their golden harps as soon,And touched on every string.When time and space were young,And music rolled along,The morning stars together sung,And heaven was drowned in song.
Creation fires my tongue!Nature, thy anthems raise,And spread the universal songOf thy Creator's praise.
When each revolving wheelAssumed its sphere sublime,Submissive Earth then heard the peal,And struck the march of time.
The march in heaven begun,And splendor filled the skies,When Wisdom bade the morning sunWith joy from chaos rise.
The angels heard the tuneThroughout creation ring;They seized their golden harps as soon,And touched on every string.
When time and space were young,And music rolled along,The morning stars together sung,And heaven was drowned in song.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
Captain Anthony owned two or three farms on the eastern shore of Maryland, and held about thirty slaves. One of them, a black woman named Betsy, married a free black man named Isaac Baily; and they had a numerous family of children, all of whom were, of course, slaves to Captain Anthony. When she became an old widow she lived in a hut separate from the other slaves, and was principally employed in nursing troops of babies, which her children brought into the world for the benefit of their master. Somewhere about the year 1817, Harriet, the youngest of her five daughters, gave birth to a boy, on whom she bestowed the high-sounding name of Frederick Augustus Washington Baily. As she could not be spared from field-work, baby Frederick joined the band of little slaves that were under his grandmother's care. Her hut was made of logs, with no windows, a clay floor, and a mud chimney. But the children were as well satisfied with it as if it had been a palace. They were too young to know that they were slaves, and they were as happy as little wild animals. They imitated the noises made by cats, dogs, pigs, and barn-yard fowls, and rolled over and over on the ground, laughing at their own fun. If the mud or dust made them uncomfortable, they walked into the river without undressing; for the short tow shirt, which was their only garment, was washed by swimming, and soon dried in the sunshine. Therewas a wood close by, and it was one of their greatest pleasures to watch the squirrels as they frisked about, or sat on the stumps eating nuts. Near the hut was a well, with its beam placed between the boughs of an old tree, and so well balanced that the children could easily help themselves to water. Down in a valley, not far off, was a water-mill, where people went to get their corn ground. It was capital sport to play at fishing in the mill-pond, with thread lines, and hooks made of bent pins; and they were never tired of seeing the big wheel turn round, throwing off great drops of water that sparkled in the sunshine. They lived mostly on corn mush, which they ate from a big wooden tray, with oyster-shells for spoons. But they were as healthy as little pigs, and enjoyed their coarse food as well.
The greatest of their blessings was their good grandmother, who nursed them kindly and did all she could to make them happy. They loved her dearly; and when she was obliged to leave them for a short time, they greeted her return with merry shouts. She was advanced in years, and the hair that peeped from under the folds of her turban was very gray. But she was remarkably strong for her age, straight in her figure, and quick in her motions. She was very expert at catching fish, and sometimes spent half the day in the water. She also made excellent nets to catch shad and herring; and, as these nets sold extremely well, Captain Anthony still found the old slave profitable. She had the name of being born to good luck, because whatever business she undertook prospered in her hands. She raised such excellent sweet potatoes that people often sent for her to plant for them, saying, "If Gran'ma Betty touches them they'll be sure to flourish." But the secret of hergood luck was her intelligence and carefulness. When she dug potatoes she took pains not to cut or bruise them; and in winter she protected them from frost in a hole under her hearth.
Freddy's poor mother was not allowed the comfort of being with her child. She was let out to work in the fields, twelve miles off. Whenever she went to see her little boy she had to walk over all those miles twice in the night-time, after a hard day's work; for if she was not back in the field by sunrise she was severely whipped. Freddy saw her but four or five times, and never by daylight. Sometimes she would lie down beside him and talk to him till he fell asleep, but when he woke she was always gone. He always remembered that she once took him on her knee and gave him a cake in the shape of a heart. Her rare visits made such an impression on him that he never forgot her personal appearance. She was tall and finely proportioned, with regular features and a deep black glossy complexion. Her manners were very sedate, her countenance downcast, and her eyes very sad. When he was nearly seven years old she died; but he knew nothing about it till long afterward. In later years he heard that she could read, and that she was the only one of all the slaves in the neighborhood who possessed that advantage. He never discovered how she had learned. When she died he was too young to have heard anything from her lips concerning his father. He was always told that he was the son of a white man, and some whispered the name of his master. But he never knew who was his father, and could only conjecture why the eyes of his poor mother had such a sad expression.
Captain Anthony did not carry on any of his own farms. He employed overseers for that purpose; andhowever cruelly the slaves might be treated by the overseers, they never could obtain any protection by applying to the "old master," as they called him. All the interest he took in them was to have as much work as possible forced out of them, and to sell one every year to add to his income. He himself managed the affairs of Colonel Lloyd, a wealthy gentleman with numerous plantations and a thousand slaves. His home-plantation, on the river Miles, where he resided with his family, was about twelve miles from the hut where Frederick had been nursed. His manager, Captain Anthony, lived in a house on the same plantation, and was personally a stranger to his own little slaves. But the children had seen and heard of things which made the name of the "old master" a terror to them. Frederick's first great trouble was when he discovered that he was a slave, and that, as soon as he was big enough to work, he would have to go to "old master." Nothing could exceed his dread of leaving the dear old home, and being separated from the kind friend of his childhood. When he was about eight years old, Captain Anthony sent for him; but his grandmother kept it a secret, knowing how it would frighten him. One bright summer morning she told him she was going to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and invited him to go with her. He had a curiosity to see the grand place of which he had heard so much; so she took him by the hand and led him away from the happy home of his childhood, to which he never returned. She carefully concealed from him how her heart was swelling, and her tender ways did not lead him to suspect it. When the unconscious little boy began to be overcome with fatigue she "toted" him on her strong shoulders. She scarcely seemed to feel the burden, and insisted upon carrying him a long way; but hefelt too much of a man to permit it. He was, however, a little afraid as they walked through the thick, dark woods; for sometimes the old knotted and gnarled stumps, when seen from a distance, looked like creatures with eyes and legs; and he kept a tight hold of her gown till the monstrous things were safely passed.
It was afternoon before they reached the famous Home Plantation of Colonel Lloyd. There he found everything very different from the solitude and poverty to which he had been accustomed. The plantation seemed like a village, there were so many large houses, and stables, and out-buildings, and mechanics' shops, and such a long row of huts for the "slaves' quarters." Children were shouting and singing, and a great many men and women were hoeing in the fields. The children came crowding round Frederick, and asked him to go and play with them. He looked in his grandmother's face, and seeing that she seemed very sad, he begun to suspect that he was going to live with the "old master." He was unwilling to lose sight of her for a moment; but she patted him on the head, and said, "Be a good boy, and go and play with the children. That one is your brother Perry, that is your sister Sarah, and that is your sister Eliza." He had heard of these brothers and sisters before, but he had never seen them, and they seemed like strangers. He kept close to his grandmother; but at last she persuaded him to follow the children to the back part of the house. He felt so shy that he stood leaning against the wall, looking on, while the others played. After a while, a little boy, who had been left in the kitchen, ran up to him, exclaiming, "Fed! Fed! Grandmammy's gone!" He rushed after her, and when he found that she was gone far out of sight, he threw himselfon the ground and sobbed. His brother and sisters brought him peaches and pears, but he flung them away, and continued sobbing, till, overcome with sorrow and fatigue, he fell into a deep sleep.
As Colonel Lloyd's plantation was not near any town, the barrels, wheels, shoes, and cloth that were needed by the numerous slaves were manufactured by themselves. Large crops of grain and tobacco were raised and shipped for Baltimore. All the business of twenty or thirty other farms was transacted at this plantation, which was distinguished by the name of "The Great House Farm"; and as Captain Anthony was overseer of all the overseers, he was kept very busy all the time. He took no notice of Freddy at first, but when told who the newcomer was, he patted him on the head and said, "You are my little Indian boy." Occasionally when he met him he would speak affectionately to him; but he was a violent-tempered man, and Freddy soon learned to watch him closely when he saw him coming. If he was shaking his head or muttering to himself, he hastened to get out of his way, lest he should catch a blow without knowing what it was for. The slave children had no one to care for them but cross Katy, the cook, who cuffed them about, and kept all, except her own children, in such a half-starved condition, that Freddy often had a tussle with the dogs and cats for the bones that were thrown to them. Summer and winter, they had no clothing but a coarse tow shirt that reached to the knees. They were provided with two a year; and if they wore out before allowance-day came round, they went naked. They slept anywhere on the floor without covering. Freddy suffered much from cold. His naked feet were cracked open in great gashes in the winter. When hecould get a chance, he would creep into the meal-bag at night. So much for the care taken of their bodies; and it fared no better with their souls. All the instruction they received was from Uncle Isaac, a crippled slave, who, being unable to work, taught the children to say the Lord's Prayer after him by rote, and switched them whenever they made a mistake.
But Freddy was at an age to bear privations and troubles lightly, and to enjoy thoughtlessly whatever pleasant things came in his way. He had never seen anything so grand as The Great House, in which Colonel Lloyd resided. It was a large white building, with piazza and columns in front, surrounded by arbors, and grain-houses, and turkey-houses, and pigeon-houses, interspersed with grand old trees. There was an extensive lawn, kept as smooth as velvet, and ornamented with flowering shrubs. The carriage-road to and from the house made a circle round the lawn, and was paved with white pebbles from the beach. Outside of this enclosed space were extensive parks, where rabbits, deer, and other wild animals frisked about. Flocks of red-winged blackbirds made the trees look gay, and filled the air with melody. Vessels on their way to Baltimore were continually in sight, and a sloop belonging to Colonel Lloyd lay in the river, with its pretty little boat bobbing about in the sparkling water. There was a windmill not far off, and the little slaves were never tired of watching the great wings go whirling round. There was a creek to swim in, and crabs and clams and oysters to be got by wading and digging and raking for them. Freddy was glad enough to catch them when he had a chance, for he never had half enough to eat. He had one friend at The Great House. Daniel Lloyd, the Colonel'syoungest son, liked to have him assist in his sports. He protected him when bigger boys wanted to make war upon him, and sometimes he gave him a cake. Captain Anthony's family consisted of a son, Andrew, and a daughter, Lucretia, who had married Captain Thomas Auld. Mrs. Lucretia took a fancy to bright little Freddy. She liked to hear him sing, and often spoke a kind word to him. This emboldened him so much, that when he was very hungry he would go and sing under the window where she sat at work, and she would generally give him a piece of bread, sometimes with butter on it. That was a great treat for a boy who was fed all the time on corn mush, and could not get half enough of that. His business was to clean the front yard, to keep fowls out of the garden, to drive the cows home from pasture, and to run of errands. He had a good deal of time to play with his little relatives, and with the young slaves at Colonel Lloyd's, who called him "Captain Anthony Fed." He was such a mere boy, that it is no wonder so many new people and things soon cured him of homesickness for his grandmother, who could very seldom get time to trudge twelve miles to see him.
But though his slave-life was not without gleams of enjoyment, he saw and heard much that was painful. At one time he would see Colonel Lloyd compel a faithful old slave get down upon his knees to be flogged for not keeping the hair of his horses sufficiently smooth. At another time, the overseer would shoot a slave dead for refusing to come up to be whipped. Ever and anon some of them were sold to Georgia slave-traders, and there was weeping and wailing in the families they left behind. On the premises of his own master, he was not unfrequently wakened in the night by the screams andgroans of slaves who were being lashed. One of Captain Anthony's slaves, named Esther, was the sister of Freddy's mother. She had a pretty face and a graceful shape. She and a handsome young slave of Colonel Lloyd's were much attached, and wished to marry. But her old master, for reasons of his own, forbade her to see her lover, and if he suspected them of meeting he would abuse the poor girl in a most shocking manner. Freddy was too young at the time to understand the full significance of this cruel treatment; but when he thought of it in after years, it explained to him why his poor mother had always looked so downcast and sad. As for himself, he managed to escape very severe punishment, though Captain Anthony not unfrequently whipped him for some carelessness or mischief. But when he saw the plantation-laborers, even of so rich a man as Colonel Lloyd, driven out to toil from early morning to dusk, shivering in the cold winds, or dripping with rain, with no covering but a few coarse tow rags, he could not help thinking that such was likely to be his fate when he was older. Young as he was, he had a great dread of being a field-hand. Therefore he was rejoiced when Mrs. Lucretia told him he was to be sent to Baltimore, to live with her husband's brother, Mr. Hugh Auld. She told him if he would make himself very clean, she would give him a pair of new trousers. The prospect of exchanging his little tow shirt for new trousers delighted him so much that he was ready to scrub his skin off to obtain them. He was, moreover, very eager to see Baltimore; for slaves who had been there told fine stories about the grand houses and the multitude of ships. He had been only two years at Captain Anthony's, and he had formed no attachment so strong as that he had felt for his oldgrandmother. It was with a joyful heart that he went forth to view the wonders of the city. When he arrived in Baltimore, his new mistress met him at the door with a pleasant smile. She said to her son, "There's little Freddy, who has come to take care of you"; and to him she said, "You must be kind to little Tommy." Mrs. Sophia Auld had earned her own living before her marriage, and she had not yet acquired the ways of slaveholders toward servants. While her own little Tommy was on her knee, Freddy was often seated by her side, and sometimes her soft hand would rest upon his head in a kind, motherly way. He had never been treated so since he left his good old grandmother. In a very short time he loved her with all his heart, and was eager to do anything to please her. It was his business to go of errands and take care of Tommy. The boys became as much attached to each other as if they were brothers. There was nothing to remind Freddy of being a slave. He had plenty of wholesome food to eat, clean clothes to wear, and a good straw bed with warm covering. Mrs. Auld was much in the habit of singing hymns and reading the Bible aloud; and Freddy, who was not at all afraid of "Miss Sophy," as he called her, said to her one day that he wished she would teach him to read. She consented; and he was so quick at learning that he was soon able to spell small words. His kind mistress was so much pleased with his progress, that she told her husband about it, and remarked, with much satisfaction, that Freddy would soon be able to read the Bible. Mr. Auld was displeased, and forbade her giving any more lessons. "It is contrary to law to teach a nigger to read," said he. "It is unsafe, and can only lead to mischief. If you teach him to read the Bible, it will make him discontented,and there will be no keeping him. Next thing, he will be wanting to learn to write; and then he'll be running away with himself." This was said in the presence of Freddy, and it set his active mind to thinking. He had often before wondered why black children were born to be slaves; and now he heard his master say that if he learned to read it would spoil him for a slave. He resolved that hewouldlearn to read. He carried a spelling-book in his pocket when he went of errands, and persuaded some of the white boys who played with him to give him a lesson now and then. He was soon able to read. With some money that he earned for himself, he bought a book called "The Columbian Orator." It contained many speeches about liberty. The reading of them made him discontented. He was no longer light-hearted and full of fun. He became thoughtful and serious. When he played with white boys, he would ask, "Why haven't I as good a right to be free, and go where I please, as you have?" And sometimes a generous-hearted boy would answer, "I believe, Fred, youhavejust as good a right to be free as I have."
He knew that his present situation was uncommonly favorable; but the idea of being a slave for life became more and more hateful to him. He had not been in Baltimore quite four years when an event occurred which proved to him the extreme uncertainty of a slave's condition, even when circumstances seemed the most favorable. His old master, Captain Anthony, died; and his slaves were to be divided between his son Andrew and his daughter Mrs. Lucretia Auld. Frederick was in terror lest it should be decided that he belonged to Andrew, who was a confirmed drunkard, and excessively cruel to the slaves. It was a month before the divisionof the estate was decided by law; and the anxiety of his mind was so great that it seemed to him half a year. He felt as if saved from sentence of death, when he was informed that he belonged to Mrs. Lucretia, who had been kind to him in his hungry boyhood. As she had no occasion for his services, it was agreed that he should remain in Mr. Hugh Auld's family; a circumstance which pleased Master Tom and his mother about as much as it did Freddy.
But in a short time he was again painfully reminded of the uncertainty of his condition. Mrs. Lucretia and her brother Andrew both died, each of them leaving one child. Neither Captain Anthony nor his children left any of the slaves free. Even Frederick's old grandmother, who had nursed her master when he was a baby, waited upon him through his boyhood, worked faithfully for him during all her life, and reared up a multitude of children and grandchildren to toil for him,—even she was left in Slavery, with no provision made for her. The children she had tended so lovingly were sold, or let out in distant places; all were unable to write to inform her where they had gone; all were unable to help her, because they were not allowed to have their own earnings. When her old master and his children were dead, the owners of the property thought Gran'ma Betty was too old to be of any further use; so they put up a hut with a mud chimney in the woods, and left her there to find food for herself as she could, with no mortal to render her any service in her dying hour. This brutal proceeding increased the bitterness of Frederick's feeling against Slavery.
By the blessing of God the consolations of religion came to him, and enabled him to look beyond this troubledand transitory world. A pious colored man, called Uncle Lawson, became interested in him. They attended prayer-meetings together, and Frederick often went to his house on Sundays. They had refreshing times together, reading the Bible, praying, and singing hymns. Uncle Lawson saw that his young friend had uncommon intelligence, and he often said to him, "The Lord has a great work for you to do, and you must prepare yourself for it." Frederick replied that he did not see how a slave could prepare himself for any great work; but the pious old man always answered, "Trust in the Lord. He will bring it about in his own good time. You must go on reading and studying Scripture." This prophecy inspired him with hope, and he seized every opportunity to improve himself. But he had many obstacles to contend with. His master, Mr. Hugh Auld, was made irritable by an increasing love for brandy. When he found out that Frederick read and spoke at religious meetings, he threatened to flog him if he continued to do it. His kind mistress, who used to pat him on the head and call him "Little Freddy," was changed by the habit of having slaves and talking with slaveholders. The pleasant, motherly expression of her face had become severe. She watched Frederick very closely, and if she caught him with a book or newspaper in his hand, she would rush at him in a great rage and snatch it away. Master Tommy had grown to be a tall lad, and began to feel that he was born to be a master and Fred to be a slave. Frederick would probably have tried to run away, had it not been for the friendships he had formed for Uncle Lawson and the religious young men he met at the meetings. Notwithstanding his master's threat, he contrived to find opportunities to read andpray with good Uncle Lawson; and it had a blessed influence on his spirit, making him feel at peace with all men. Now that he had a taste of knowledge, it was impossible to prevent his getting more. His master sent him of errands to the shipyard almost daily. He noticed that the carpenters marked their boards with letters. He asked the name of the letters, and copied them with a bit of chalk. When the family went from home, he diligently copied from the writing-books Master Tommy had brought from school; and his zeal was so great that in a short time he could write as well as his master. He picked up bits of newspapers wherever he could find them, and he listened attentively when he heard slaveholders talking about the Northern States and cursing the Abolitionists. He did not at first know what was the meaning of "abolitionists"; but when he read in a newspaper that petitions were sent into Congress for the abolition of Slavery, light dawned upon him. He told trustworthy colored friends about it, and they were comforted by the thought that there were people at the North trying to help them out of bondage.
But a new blow fell upon him. Captain Thomas Auld married again, after the death of his wife Mrs. Lucretia, and removed to St. Michael's,—an old village, the principal business of which was oyster fishing. He got into a quarrel with his brother, Mr. Hugh Auld of Baltimore, and demanded that Frederick should be sent back to him. So he was put on board a ship for St. Michael's. When swift steamboats on their way to Philadelphia passed the sloop that carried him, he bitterly regretted that he had not escaped to the Free States from Baltimore, where he could have had so many more opportunities for doing it than he could at the old fishing-village.Captain Thomas Auld and his new wife were both great professors of religion. He was an exhorter and class-leader in the Methodist Church. But their religion was not of a kind that taught them humanity to their fellow-creatures. They worked their slaves very hard, and kept them half fed and half clothed. Scolding and flogging were going on incessantly. Frederick soon discovered that they were violently opposed to colored people's knowing how to read; but when a pious young man in the neighborhood asked him to assist in a Sunday school for colored children, he resolved to seize the opportunity of being useful. When his master found out what he was doing, he was very angry; and the next Sunday he and two other Methodist class-leaders went to the school, armed with clubs and whips, and drove off both teachers and scholars. It was agreed that Frederick had been spoiled by living in Baltimore, and that it was necessary to cure him of his dangerous thirst for knowledge. For that purpose he was sent to a famous "negro-breaker" in the neighborhood named Covey. He was a great professor of religion, but a monster of cruelty. Frederick was almost killed by hard labor, and not a week passed without his being cruelly cut up with the whip. Escape was impossible, for Covey was on the watch at all times of day and night. Six months of such treatment wellnigh crushed all manhood out of him. But cruelty was carried so far that at last he became desperate, and when his master attempted to beat him, he struggled with him and threw him down. He expected to be hung for it, according to the laws of Maryland; but Covey prided himself on his reputation as a "negro-breaker," and he was ashamed to have it known that he had been conquered by a lad of seventeen. Frederick's time was notout for six months longer, but Covey never attempted to whip him again.
The next two years Frederick was let out to do field-work for Mr. Freeland, who fed his slaves well, and never worked them beyond their strength. Some of his slaves were intelligent, and desirous to learn to read. On Sundays they had meetings in the woods, and twenty or thirty young men were taught by Frederick. After a while they formed a plan of escaping in a canoe. But some unknown men excited suspicion against them, and they were seized and thrust into prison. They kept their secrets so well, however, that no proof could be obtained against them, and they were released without even a whipping. But some of the neighboring slaveholders said Frederick was a dangerous fellow; that he knew too much,—they would not have him tampering with their slaves; and if he was not sent out of the neighborhood they would shoot him. Captain Thomas Auld talked of selling him to Alabama; but he finally concluded to let him out again to his brother Hugh, with a promise that if he behaved well he should be free at twenty-five years old.
When he returned to Baltimore he was let out to work at calking vessels; and he soon became so expert at the business that he earned from seven to nine dollars a week. He was trusted to make his own contracts, but was required to pay Mr. Hugh Auld his earnings every Saturday night. On such occasions a sixpence or a shilling was sometimes given him, for which he was expected to be grateful; but it naturally occurred to him that the whole of the money rightfully belonged to him who earned it. He was attached to a worthy girl named Anna, but he was reluctant to form family ties while hewas subject to the vicissitudes of Slavery. He often thought of escaping to the Free States, but the regulations were so strict that it seemed a hopeless undertaking, unless he had money. When Captain Thomas Auld visited Baltimore, he tried to make a bargain with him to buy his time for a specified sum each week, being free to earn as much more as he could. The reply was, "You are planning to run away. But, wherever you go, I shall catch you." The master then tried to coax him with promises of freedom in the future; but Frederick thought it very uncertain when they would be willing to give up a man who brought them in nine dollars a week. He concluded to go to the Free States. How he accomplished it he never told, for he was afraid of bringing trouble upon those who helped him.
When he arrived in New York, he says he felt as he should suppose a man would feel who had escaped from a den of hungry lions. But the joyful feeling was soon checked. He met an acquaintance who had recently escaped from Slavery. He told him the city was full of Southerners, who had agents out in every direction to catch runaway slaves; and then he hurried away, as if afraid of being betrayed. This made Frederick feel very desolate. He was afraid to seek employment as a calker, lest spies from his master should be on the watch for him. He bought a loaf of bread, and hid away for the night among some barrels on a wharf. In the morning, he met a sailor, who looked so good-natured and honest that he ventured to tell him he was a fugitive slave, and to ask him for advice. He was not deceived in the expression of the man's face. He invited him to his house, and went in search of Mr. David Ruggles, a worthy colored man, well known as a zealous friend of his oppressed race.The fugitive was kept hidden for a few days, during which time Anna was sent for, and they were married. By help of Mr. Ruggles, employment at calking was obtained in New Bedford, a large town in Massachusetts, where a great many ships are constantly employed. There he found many intelligent colored people, not a few of whom had been slaves. They lived in convenient houses, took newspapers, bought books, and sent their children to good schools. They had various societies for improvement; and when he attended their meetings, he was surprised to hear their spirited discussions on various subjects. His bright mind was roused into full activity by the influences around him. He changed his name to Frederick Douglass. He was called Mr. Douglass now, and felt like it. He worked hard, but that was a pleasure, now that he could enjoy his own earnings. He felt safe; for there were so many Abolitionists and so many intelligent colored people in New Bedford, that slaveholders did not venture to go there to hunt for fugitives. The cruel treatment he had received from hypocritical professors of religion had not destroyed his faith in the excellence of real religion. He joined a church of colored people, called Zion Methodists, and became a class-leader and preacher among them. He took a newspaper called "The Liberator," edited by William Lloyd Garrison, wherein he found the rights of the colored people vindicated with great zeal and ability. His wife proved a neat and industrious helpmate, and a little family of children began to gather round him. Thus furnished with healthy employment for his mind, his heart, and his hands, he lived over three years in New Bedford.
At the end of that period, in the year 1841, a greatAnti-Slavery meeting was held in the vicinity, and Mr. Douglass went to hear Mr. Garrison and others speak. He did not suppose that any one in the meeting knew him; but a gentleman was present who had heard him preach in Zion Church, and he went to him and urged him to address the Anti-Slavery meeting. He was bashful about speaking before such a large and intelligent audience; and when he was persuaded to mount the platform he trembled in every limb. But what he said flowed right out from the depths of his heart; and when people of any intelligence speak in that way, they are always eloquent. The audience were greatly moved by what he told them of his experiences. It was the beginning of a great change in his life. The Anti-Slavery Society employed him to travel in the Free States to lecture against Slavery; and that you may be sure he could do with a will. Crowds went to hear him, and his ministration was greatly blessed. The prophecy of good Uncle Lawson was fulfilled. The Lordhada great work for him to do; and in His own good time he had brought it about.
People who were in favor of Slavery said he was an impostor; that he did not look like a slave, or speak like a slave; and that they did not believe he had ever been in the Southern States. To prove that he was not an impostor he wrote and published an account of his life, with the names of his masters and the places where they resided. The book was ably written, and produced almost as great an effect as his lectures. Slaveholders were very angry that one of their escaped chattels should produce such an excitement. There was great danger that some of their agents would kidnap him as he went about the country lecturing. It was therefore concluded thathe had better go to England. In 1845 he took passage for Liverpool in the English steamship Cambria. He was invited to deliver a lecture on deck. Some slaveholders from New Orleans and Georgia, who were a little under the influence of brandy, swore they would throw him overboard if he did; but the captain of the vessel threatened to put them in irons if they behaved in a disorderly manner. When they arrived in England they tried to injure Mr. Douglass by publishing that he was an insolent, lying negro; but their efforts only served to make him famous. He delivered a great number of lectures, and attracted crowds everywhere. In the Free States of his own country he had been excluded from many places of improvement, and often insulted on account of his color; but he had no such prejudice to encounter in England. He behaved like a gentleman, and was treated like a gentleman. Many distinguished and wealthy people invited him to their houses, as a mark of respect for his natural abilities and the efforts he had made to improve himself. But he felt that his labors were needed in America, in behalf of his oppressed brethren, and he wanted to return. His friends in England entered into negotiations with Captain Thomas Auld for the purchase of his freedom, which they succeeded in obtaining for little more than seven hundred dollars.
After an absence of two years he returned to the United States a freeman. He established himself with his family in Rochester, New York. There he edited a weekly newspaper, called "The North Star," and from time to time travelled about the country to deliver lectures, which were always fully attended. After he was free he wrote a spirited letter to his old master, Captain Thomas Auld, in which he asks: "What has become of my dear oldgrandmother, whom you turned out, like an old horse, to die in the woods? If she is still alive, she must be near eighty years old,—too old to be of any service to you. O, she was father and mother to me, so far as hard toil for my comfort could make her so. Send her to me at Rochester, and it shall be the crowning happiness of my life to take care of her in her old age." I never heard that any answer was received to this letter.
During the Rebellion Mr. Douglass labored zealously to raise colored regiments, and one of his sons enlisted in the service of the United States. After the Proclamation of Emancipation he was invited to Baltimore, where he delivered an address before a large audience of respectable citizens. How different was free Maryland from the Slavery-ridden State which he had left, secretly and in terror, nearly thirty years before!
In the spring of 1865 an association of colored men was formed in Baltimore for moral and intellectual improvement. They bought a building formerly used by the Newton University, for which they paid sixteen thousand dollars. In honor of their able pioneer, Frederick Douglass, they named it "The Douglass Institute." On the day of its dedication he delivered an address before the association in Baltimore, in the course of which he said: "The mission of this institution is to develop manhood; to build up manly character among the colored people of this city and State. It is to teach them the true idea of manly independence and self-respect. It is to be a dispenser of knowledge, a radiator of light. In a word, we dedicate this institution to virtue, temperance, knowledge, truth, liberty, and justice."
BY J. M. WHITEFIELD.
Written for the Vine Street Methodist Episcopal Church of colored people, in Buffalo, N. Y.
God of our sires! before thy throneOur humble offering now we bring;Deign to accept it as thine own,And dwell therein, Almighty King!Around thy glorious throne aboveAngels and flaming seraphs sing;Archangels own thy boundless love,And cherubim their tribute bring.And every swiftly rolling sphere,That wends its way through boundless space,Hymns forth, in chorus loud and clear,Its mighty Maker's power and grace.It is not ours to bear the partsIn that celestial song of praise;But here, O Lord! with grateful hearts,This earthly fane to Thee we raise.O let thy presence fill this house,And from its portals ne'er depart!Accept, O Lord! the humble vowsPoured forth by every contrite heart!No sacrifice of beast or bird,No clouds of incense here shall rise,But, in accordance with thy wordWe'll bring a holier sacrifice.Here shall the hoary-headed sireInvoke thy grace, on bended knee;While youth shall catch the sacred fire,And pour its song of praise to Thee.Let childhood, too, with stammering tongue,Here lisp thy name with reverent awe;And high and low, and old and young,Learn to obey thy holy law.And when our spirits shall returnBack to the God who gave them birth,And these frail bodies shall be borneTo mingle with their kindred earth,—Then, in that house not made with hands,New anthems to thy praise we'll sing,To Thee, who burst our slavish bands,Our Saviour, Prophet, Priest, and King.
God of our sires! before thy throneOur humble offering now we bring;Deign to accept it as thine own,And dwell therein, Almighty King!Around thy glorious throne aboveAngels and flaming seraphs sing;Archangels own thy boundless love,And cherubim their tribute bring.
And every swiftly rolling sphere,That wends its way through boundless space,Hymns forth, in chorus loud and clear,Its mighty Maker's power and grace.It is not ours to bear the partsIn that celestial song of praise;But here, O Lord! with grateful hearts,This earthly fane to Thee we raise.
O let thy presence fill this house,And from its portals ne'er depart!Accept, O Lord! the humble vowsPoured forth by every contrite heart!No sacrifice of beast or bird,No clouds of incense here shall rise,But, in accordance with thy wordWe'll bring a holier sacrifice.
Here shall the hoary-headed sireInvoke thy grace, on bended knee;While youth shall catch the sacred fire,And pour its song of praise to Thee.Let childhood, too, with stammering tongue,Here lisp thy name with reverent awe;And high and low, and old and young,Learn to obey thy holy law.
And when our spirits shall returnBack to the God who gave them birth,And these frail bodies shall be borneTo mingle with their kindred earth,—Then, in that house not made with hands,New anthems to thy praise we'll sing,To Thee, who burst our slavish bands,Our Saviour, Prophet, Priest, and King.
Grant, O Father, that the timeOf earth's deliverance may be near,When every land and tongue and climeThe message of Thy love shall hear;When, smitten as with fire from heaven,The captive's chain shall sink in dust,And to his fettered soul be givenThe glorious freedom of the just.John G. Whittier.
Grant, O Father, that the timeOf earth's deliverance may be near,When every land and tongue and climeThe message of Thy love shall hear;When, smitten as with fire from heaven,The captive's chain shall sink in dust,And to his fettered soul be givenThe glorious freedom of the just.
John G. Whittier.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.
William Crafts is a black man, born in Georgia. His master had the reputation of being a humane man and a pious Christian. Yet, when some of his slaves were getting old, he had no scruples about selling them away from their families, and buying a young lot. Among those sold were the father and mother of William. They were sold to different purchasers from different places, and never saw each other again. They were much attached to each other, and it was a consolation to their son to think how happy would be their reunion in another world; for he says he never knew people who more humbly placed their trust in God than his parents did. William was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker, and his brother to a blacksmith; because slaves who worked well at a trade could be let out with more profit to their masters, and would also bring a higher price if sold. Before their time was out, their master became hard pressed for money. Accordingly, he sold the young blacksmith, and mortgaged William and his sister, a girl of fourteen. When the time of the mortgage was up, their master had no money to redeem them, and they were placed on the auction-block, to be sold to the highest bidder. The girl was sold first, and bought by a planter who lived some distance in the country. William was strongly attached to his sister; and when he saw her put into a cart, to be carried away fromhim forever, it seemed as if his heart would burst. He knelt down and begged and entreated to be allowed to go and speak to her before she was taken away; but they handled him roughly, and ordered him to stay on the auction-block. As he stood there awaiting his own fate, he saw the cart moving slowly away. The tears were rolling down his sister's cheeks, and she stretched her hands toward him with a movement of despair. The thought that he could do nothing for her, and that they might never meet more, almost killed him. His eyes were blinded with tears; and when he could see again, the cart was gone.
He was bought by the man to whom he had been mortgaged, and ordered to return to the cabinet-maker's shop to work. After a while his new master took him to Macon, where he was let out to work at his trade. There he became acquainted with a quadroon girl named Ellen, whom he afterward married.
Ellen was the daughter of her master, but her mother was a slave. Her handsome dark eyes were apt to attract attention; her hair was straight, and her skin was so nearly white that strangers often mistook her for one of her master's own white family. This was very vexatious to her mistress, who treated her so harshly that the poor child had no comfort of her life. When she was eleven years old she was given to a daughter of her mistress, who was about to be married to a gentleman living in Macon. It was painful to part from her poor mother, but she was glad to get away from the incessant cruelty of her old mistress. Her new mistress proved more humane. In her service Ellen grew up without being exposed to some of the most degrading influences of Slavery.
She and the intelligent young cabinet-maker formed an attachment for each other soon after they were acquainted. But Ellen had seen so much of the separation of families in Slavery, that she was very reluctant to marry. Whenever William said anything about it, she reminded him that they were both slaves; and that if they were married either of their masters could separate them whenever they chose. William remembered, with bitterness of heart, how his father and mother and brother had been sold, and how his sister had been torn from him without his being allowed to bid her good by. He had not been tortured in his own person, but he had seen other slaves cruelly whipped and branded with hot iron, hunted and torn by bloodhounds, and even burned alive, merely for trying to get their freedom. In view of these things, he had a great horror of bringing children into the world to be slaves. He and Ellen often talked together about escaping to the North and being married there. But they reflected that they would have to travel a thousand miles before they could reach any Free State. They knew that bloodhounds and slave-hunters would be put upon their track; that if they were taken, they would be subjected to terrible tortures; and that, even if they succeeded in reaching the Free States, they would still be in danger of being delivered up to their masters. They talked over a variety of plans; but the prospect of escape seemed so discouraging, that at last they concluded to ask their owner's consent to their marriage; and they resolved to be as contented as they could in the situation to which they were born. But they were too intelligent not to know that a great wrong was done to them by keeping them in slavery. William shuddered to think into what cruel and licentious hands his dear wife mightfall if she should be sold by her present owners; and Ellen was filled with great anguish whenever she thought what might happen to her children, if she should be a mother. They were always thinking and talking about freedom, and they often prayed earnestly to God that some way of escape might be opened for them.
In December, 1848, a bold plan came into William's mind. He thought that if his wife were dressed in men's clothes she could easily pass for a white gentleman, and that he could accompany her on her travels as her negro slave. Ellen, who was very modest and timid, at first shrank from the idea. But, after reflecting more upon their hopeless situation, she said: "It seems too difficult for us to undertake; but I feel that God is on our side, and with His help we may carry it through. We will try."
It was contrary to law for white men in the Southern States to sell anything secretly to slaves; but there were always enough ready to do it for the sake of getting money,—especially as they knew that no colored man was allowed to testify against a white man. William was skilful and diligent at his trade; and though his wages all went to his master, he had contrived to lay up money by doing jobs for others in extra hours. He therefore found little difficulty in buying the various articles of a gentleman's dress, at different times and in different parts of the town. He had previously made Ellen a chest of drawers, with locks and key; and as she was a favorite and trusted slave, she was allowed to keep it for her own use in the little room where she slept. As fast as the articles were bought they were secretly conveyed to her, and she locked them up. The next important thing was to obtain leave of absence for a few days.It was near Christmas-time, when kind slaveholders sometimes permit favorite slaves to be absent on a visit to friends or relatives. But Ellen's services were very necessary to her mistress, and she had to ask many times before she could obtain a written permission to be gone for a few days. The cabinet-maker for whom William worked was persuaded to give him a similar paper, but he charged him to be sure and return as soon as the time was up, because he should need him very much. There was still another difficulty in the way. Travellers were required to register their names at the custom-houses and hotels, and to sign a certificate for the slaves who accompanied them. When Ellen remembered this, it made her weep bitterly to think that she could not write. But in a few moments she wiped her eyes and said, with a smile, "I will poultice my right hand and put it in a sling, and then there will be a good excuse for asking the officers to write my name for me." When she was dressed in her disguise, William thought she could easily pass for a white gentleman, only she looked young enough for a mere boy; he therefore bought a pair of green spectacles to make her look older. She, on her part, was afraid that the smoothness of her chin might betray her; she therefore resolved to tie a bandage round her face, as if she were troubled with toothache.
In four days after they first thought of the plan, all was in readiness. They sat up all night, whispering over to each other the parts they were to act in case of various supposable difficulties. William cut off Ellen's glossy black hair, according to the fashion of gentlemen. When all was carefully arranged, they knelt together and prayed that God would protect them through their perilous undertaking. They raised the latch of the door verysoftly, and looked out and listened. Nobody was stirring abroad, and all was still. But Ellen trembled and threw herself on her husband's breast. There she wept for a few moments, while he tried to comfort her with whispered words of encouragement, though he also felt that they were going forth into the midst of terrible dangers. She soon recovered her calmness, and said, "Let us go." They stepped out on tiptoe, shook hands in silence, and parted to go to the railway station by different routes. William deemed it prudent to take a short cut across the fields, to avoid being recognized; but his wife, who was now to pass for his young master, went by the public road. Under the name of Mr. William Johnson, she purchased tickets for herself and slave for Savannah, which was about two hundred miles off. The porter who took charge of the luggage at the station had formerly wished to marry Ellen; but her disguise was so complete that he called her "Young massa," and respectfully obeyed her orders concerning the baggage. She gave him a bit of money for his trouble, and he made his best bow.
The moment William arrived at the station, he hid himself in the "negro car" assigned to servants. It was lucky that he did so; for, just before the train started, he saw upon the platform the cabinet-maker, who had given him a pass for quite a different purpose than an excursion to Savannah. He was looking round, as if searching for some one; and William afterward heard that he suspected him of attempting to escape. Luckily, the train started before he had time to examine the "negro car."
Ellen had a narrow escape on her part; for a gentleman who took the seat beside her proved to be Mr. Cray,who frequently visited at her master's house, and who had known her ever since she was a child. Her first thought was that he had come to seize her and carry her back; but it soon became evident that he did not recognize her in a gentleman's dress, with green spectacles, bandaged face, and her arm in a sling. After the cars started, he remarked, "It is a very fine morning, sir." Ellen, being afraid that her voice would betray her, continued to look out of the window, and made no reply. After a little while, he repeated the remark in a louder tone. The passengers who heard him began to smile, and Mr. Cray turned away, saying, "I shall not trouble that deaf fellow any more." To her great relief, he left the cars at the next station.
They arrived at Savannah early in the evening, and William having brought his master something to eat, they went on board a steamer bound for Charleston, South Carolina. Mr. Johnson, as Ellen was now called, deemed it most prudent to retire to his berth immediately. William, fearing this might seem strange to the other passengers, made a great fuss warming flannels and opodeldoc at the stove, informing them that his young master was an invalid travelling to Philadelphia in hopes of getting cured. He did not tell them the disease was Slavery; he called it inflammatory rheumatism. The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Johnson was seated by the captain of the boat, and, as his right hand was tied in a sling, his servant, William, cut up his food for him. The captain remarked, "You have a very attentive boy, sir; but I advise you to watch him like a hawk when you get North. Several gentlemen have lately lost valuable niggers among them cut-throat Abolitionists."
A hard-looking slave-trader, with red eyes, and bristlybeard, was sitting opposite. He laid down a piece of chicken he was eating, and with his thumbs stuck in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, said: "I wouldn't take a nigger North under no consideration. Now, if you'd like to sell that 'ere boy, I'll pay you for him in silver dollars, on this 'ere board. What do you say, stranger?" Mr. Johnson replied, "I do not wish to sell him, sir; I could not get on well without him." "You'llhaveto get on without him, if you take him to the North," continued the slave-trader. "I am an older cove than you are, and I reckon I have had more dealings with niggers. I tell you, stranger, that boy will never do you any good if you take him across Mason and Dixon's line. I can see by the cut of his eye that he is bound to run away as soon as he can get a chance." Mr. Johnson replied, "I think not, sir. I have great confidence in his fidelity." Whereupon the slave-trader began to swear about niggers in general. A military officer, who was also travelling with a servant, said to Mr. Johnson: "Excuse me, sir, for saying I think you are likely to spoil that boy of yours by saying 'thank you' to him. The only way to make a nigger toe the mark, and to keep him in his place, is to storm at him like thunder. Don't you see that when I speak to my Ned, he darts like lightning? If he didn't, I'd skin him."
When the steamboat arrived at Charleston, the hearts of the fugitives beat almost loud enough to be heard; they were so afraid their flight had been discovered, and a telegraph sent from Savannah to have them arrested. But they passed unnoticed among the crowd. They took a carriage and drove to a fashionable hotel, where the invalid gentleman received every attention befitting his supposed rank. He was seated at a luxurious table in abrilliant dining-room, while William received some fragments of food on a broken plate, and was told to go into the kitchen. Mr. Johnson gave some pieces of money to the servants who waited upon him; and they said to William, "Your massa is a big-bug. He is de greatest gentleman dat has been dis way dis six months."
Notwithstanding the favorable impression he had made, Mr. Johnson found some difficulty in obtaining tickets to Philadelphia for himself and his slave. The master of the ticket-office refused to write the invalid gentleman's name for him. But the military officer who had breakfasted with him stepped up and said he knew the gentleman, and all was right. The captain of the North Carolina steamer hearing this, and not wishing to lose a passenger, said, "I will register the gentleman's name, and take the responsibility upon myself." Mr. Johnson thanked him politely, and the captain remarked: "No disrespect was intended to you, sir; but they are obliged to be very strict in Charleston. Some Abolitionist might take a valuable nigger along with him, and try to pass him off as his slave."
They arrived safely at Wilmington, North Carolina, and took the cars to Richmond, Virginia. On the way, an elderly lady in the cars, seeing William on the platform, cried out, in great excitement, "There goes my nigger Ned!" Mr. Johnson said, very politely, "No, madam, that is my boy." But the lady, without paying any attention to what he said, called out, "Ned, you runaway rascal, come to me, sir." On nearer inspection she perceived that she was mistaken, and said to Mr. Johnson: "I beg your pardon, sir. I was sure it was my Ned. I never saw two black pigs look more alike."
From Petersburg, a Virginia gentleman with two handsomedaughters were in the same car with Mr. Johnson. Supposing him to be a rich, fashionable young Southerner, they were very attentive and sympathizing. The old gentleman told him he knew how to pity him, for he had had inflammatory rheumatism himself. He advised him to lie down to rest; which he was very willing to do, as a good means of avoiding conversation. The ladies took their extra shawls and made a comfortable pillow for his head, and their father gave him a piece of paper which he said contained directions for curing the rheumatism. The invalid thanked him politely; but not knowing how to read, and fearing he might hold the paper upside down, prudently put it in his pocket. When they supposed him to be asleep, one of the ladies said, "Papa, he seems to be a very nice young gentleman"; and the other responded, "I never felt so much for any gentleman in my life."
At parting the Virginian gave him his card and said: "I hope you will call upon me when you return. I should be much pleased to see you, and so would my daughters." He gave ten cents to William, and charged him to be attentive to his master. This he promised to do, and he very faithfully kept his word.
They arrived at Baltimore with the joyful feeling that they were close upon the borders of a Free State. William saw that his master was comfortably placed in one of the best cars, and was getting into the servants' car when a man tapped him on the shoulder and asked where he was going. William replied humbly, "I am going to Philadelphia, sir, with my master, who is in the next car." "Then you had better get him out, and be mighty quick about it," said the man; "for the train is going to start, and no man is allowed to take a slave past here tillhe has satisfied the folks in the office that he has a right to take him along."
William felt as if he should drop down on the spot; but he controlled himself, and went and asked his master to go back to the office. It was a terrible fright. As Mr. Johnson stepped out he whispered, in great agitation, "O William, is it possible we shall have to go back to Slavery, after all we have gone through?" It was very hard to satisfy the station-master. He said if a man carried off a slave that did not belong to him, and the rightful owner could prove that he escaped on that road, they would be obliged to pay for the slave. Mr. Johnson kept up a calm appearance, though his heart was in his throat. "I bought tickets at Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia," said he; "therefore you have no right to detain us here." "Right or no right, we shall not let you go," replied the man. Some of the spectators sympathized with the rich young Southerner, and said it was a pity to detain him when he was so unwell. While the man hesitated, the bell rang for the cars to start, and the fugitives were in an agony. "I don't know what to do," said the man. "It all seems to be right; and as the gentleman is so unwell, it is a hard case for him to be stopped on the way. Clerk, run and tell the conductor to let this gentleman and his slave pass."
They had scarcely time to scramble into the cars, before the train started. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and they expected to arrive in Philadelphia early the next morning. They did not know that on the way the passengers would have to leave the cars and cross the river Susquehanna in a ferry-boat. They had slept very little for several nights before they left Georgia, and they had been travelling day and night for four days.William, overcome with fatigue, and feeling that their greatest dangers were now over, fell sound asleep on a heap of baggage. When they arrived at the ferry, it was cold, dark, and rainy; and for the first time during their hazardous journey the invalid found no faithful servant at hand when the cars stopped. He was in great distress, fearing that William had been arrested or kidnapped. He anxiously inquired of the passengers whether they had seen his boy. There were a good many Northerners on board, and, supposing his slave had run away, they rather enjoyed his perplexity. One gruffly replied, "I am no slave-hunter." Another smiled as he said, "I guess he is in Philadelphia before now."
When they had crossed the ferry one of the guard found William still sound asleep on the baggage, which had been rolled into the boat. He shook him and bawled out: "Wake up, you boy! Your master has been half scared to death. He thought you had run away." As soon as William was enough awake to understand what had happened, he said, "I am sure my good master does not think that of me." He hastened to explain to Mr. Johnson how he happened to be out of the way. He was received with a great leap of the heart; but the passengers only thought that the master was very glad to recover his lost property. Some of them took a convenient opportunity to advise William to run away when they reached Philadelphia. He replied, "I shall never run away from such a good master as I have." They laughed, and said, "You will think differently when you get into a Free State." They told him how to proceed in case he wanted to be free, and he thanked them. A colored man also entered into conversation with him, and told him of a certain boarding-house in Philadelphia, thekeeper of which was very friendly to slaves who wanted their freedom.
On Christmas-day, just as morning was about to dawn, they came in sight of the flickering lights of Philadelphia. William procured a cab as quick as possible, hurried their baggage into it, and told the driver to take them to the boarding-house which had been recommended to them. While Ellen had been obliged to act the part of Mr. Johnson, she had kept her mind wonderfully calm and collected. But now that she was on free soil she broke down with the excess of her emotions. "Thank God, William, we are safe, we are safe!" she exclaimed; and sinking upon her husband's breast, she burst into a passion of tears. When they arrived at the boarding-house, she was so faint she had no further occasion to act being an invalid. As soon as a room was provided, they entered and fastened the door. Then kneeling down side by side, folded in each other's arms, with tears flowing freely, they thanked God for having brought them safely through their dangerous journey, and having permitted them to live to see this happy Sabbath day, which was Christmas-day also.
When they had rested and refreshed themselves with a wash, Ellen put on her womanly garments and went to the sitting-room. When the landlord came at their summons, he was very much surprised and perplexed. "Where is your master?" inquired he; and when William pointed to his wife, he thought it was a joke; for he could not believe she was the same person who came into the house in the dress of a gentleman. He listened to their singular story with great interest and sympathy. He told them he was afraid it would not be safe for them to remain in Philadelphia, but he would send for someAbolitionists who knew the laws better than he did. Friends soon came, and gave them a hearty welcome; but they all agreed that it would not be safe for them to remain long in Philadelphia, and advised them to go to Boston. Barclay Ivens, a kind-hearted Quaker farmer, who lived some distance in the country, invited them to rest a few weeks at his house. They went accordingly. But Ellen, who had not been accustomed to receive such attentions from white people, was a little flurried when they arrived. She had received the impression that they were going to stay with colored people; and when she saw a white lady and three daughters come out to the wagon to meet her, she was much disturbed, and said to William, "I thought they were colored people." "It is all the same as if they were," replied he. "They are our good friends." "It isnotall the same," said Ellen, decidedly. "I have no faith in white people. They will be sending us back into Slavery. I am going right off." She had not then become acquainted with the Abolitionists. She had heard her master and other Southerners talk about them as very bad men, who would make slaves believe they were their friends, and then sell them into distant countries. The Quaker lady saw that she was afraid, and she went up to her and took her very kindly by the hand, saying: "How art thou, my dear? We are very glad to see thee and thy husband. We have heard about thy marvellous escape from Slavery. Come in and warm thyself. I dare say thou art cold and hungry after thy journey." Ellen thanked her, and allowed herself to be led into the house. Still she did not feel quite safe in that strange place, away from all her people. When Mrs. Ivens attempted to remove her bonnet, she said, "No, I thank you. I am not going to stop long." "Poorchild!" said the good Quaker mother, "I don't wonder thou art timid. But don't be afraid. Thou art among friends who would as soon sell their own daughters into Slavery as betray thee. We would not harm a hair of thy head for the world." The kindly face and the motherly tones melted the heart of the poor frightened fugitive, and the tears began to flow. They stayed several weeks in that hospitable house, and the son and daughters took so much pains to teach them to read and write, that before they left they could spell a little, and write their names quite legibly. They were strongly urged to stay longer, and would have done so had they not been very desirous to be earning their own living. When they left this excellent family it seemed like parting with near and dear relatives.
In Boston they were introduced to William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Francis Jackson, Rev. Theodore Parker, and other good men, who had for years been laboring for the emancipation of the slaves. The fugitives made a favorable impression on strangers at first sight. They both looked intelligent and honest. William had a very manly air, and Ellen was modest and ladylike in her manners.
Their marriage in Georgia had been, like other slave marriages, without a certificate; therefore they were desirous to have the ceremony performed again, with all the forms of law, now that they were in a free land. They were accordingly married by the Rev. Mr. Parker, at the house of a respectable colored citizen of Boston, named Lewis Hayden. Mr. Crafts was employed at his trade, and his wife obtained work as a seamstress. They lived in Boston two years, during which time they established an excellent character by their honest industry andcorrect deportment. They earned a comfortable living, and might have laid by some money if circumstances had permitted them to remain in Massachusetts.
But in 1850 the Congress of the United States, under the influence of slaveholders, passed a very wicked act called the Fugitive Slave Bill. There was in Boston at that time a celebrated lawyer named Daniel Webster. He wanted to be President of the United States, and for many years no man had been able to get elected to that office unless he pleased the slaveholders. He accordingly used his great influence to help the passage of the bill, and advised the people of Massachusetts to get over their scruples about hunting slaves. He died without being President; and I hope God forgave the great sin into which his ambition led him. By that cruel act of Congress, everybody, all over the country, was required to send back fugitive slaves to their masters. Whoever concealed them or helped them in any way became liable to a year's imprisonment and a fine of a thousand dollars, besides paying the price of the slave. In all the Northern cities there were many honest, industrious colored people who had escaped from Slavery years before, and were now getting a comfortable living. Many of them had married at the North and reared families. But when slaveholders gained this victory over the conscience of the North, they were compelled to leave their business and their homes, and hide themselves wheresoever they could. Mr. and Mrs. Crafts had many zealous friends in Boston, but the friends of the slaveholders were more numerous. For some time past, Southerners had been rather reluctant to hunt slaves in Massachusetts, because the public opinion of the people was so much opposed to Slavery, that they found it a difficultand disagreeable job. But after the passage of that unrighteous bill, they and their pro-slavery accomplices at the North became more bold.
One day, while Mr. Crafts was busy in his shop, he received a visit from a man by the name of Knight, who used to work in the same shop with him in Georgia. He professed to be much pleased to see William again, and invited him to walk round the streets and show him the curiosities of Boston. Mr. Crafts told him he had work to do, and was very busy. The next day he tried again; but finding Mr. Crafts still too busy to walk with him, he said: "I wish you would come to see me at the United States Hotel, and bring your wife with you. She would like to hear from her mother. If you want to send letters to Georgia, I will take them for you." This was followed by a badly spelled note to Mr. Crafts, informing him that he was going to leave Boston early the next morning, and if he wanted to send a letter to Georgia he must bring it to him at the hotel after tea. Mr. Crafts smiled that he should think him silly enough to walk into such an open trap. Mr. Knight had told him that he came to Boston alone; but when he questioned the hotel-servant who brought the note, he was told that a Mr. Hughes from Georgia accompanied him. Mr. Hughes was a notorious slave-catcher, and the jailer of Macon. Mr. Crafts continued to work at his shop; but he kept the door locked, and a loaded pistol beside him.
Finding that his intended victim was too much on his guard to be caught by trickery, Mr. Hughes applied to the United States Court in Boston and obtained a warrant to arrest William and Ellen Crafts as fugitive slaves. This produced tremendous excitement. TheAbolitionists were determined that they should not be carried back into Slavery. They had people everywhere on the watch, and employed lawyers to throw all manner of difficulties in the way of the slave-hunters, whose persons and manners were described in the newspapers in a way by no means agreeable to them. The colored people held large meetings, and passed various spirited resolutions, among which was the following: "Resolved, Man wills us slaves, but God wills us free. We will as God wills. God's will be done." Two hundred of them armed themselves and vowed that they would defend William and Ellen Crafts to the death. Mr. Crafts said very calmly, but very resolutely, that they should never take him alive. Hughes the slave-catcher swore: "I'll have 'em if I stay in Boston to all eternity. If there a'n't men enough in Massachusetts to take 'em, I'll bring men from Georgia." Merchants in Boston, thinking only of their trade with the South, sympathized with those men engaged in such a base calling; and the United States officials did all they could to help them. But though they received countenance and aid from many influential men in Boston, those hirelings of Slavery could not help feeling ashamed of their business. They complained that the boys in the streets hooted after them, and that wherever they made their appearance, people called out, "There go the slave-hunters!" They heard that the Abolitionists were preparing to arrest them and try them as kidnappers; and the number of colored people who watched their movements with angry looks made them wish themselves back in Georgia. During all this commotion, the conduct of Mr. Crafts excited universal admiration. He was resolute, but very calm. If there had been any law to protect him, he would haveappealed to the law, rather than have harmed a hair of any man's head; but left defenceless as he was among a pack of wolves hunting him and his innocent wife, he was determined to defend his freedom at any cost.
Ellen was secretly conveyed out of the city. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring of Boston were excellent people, always kind to the poor and true friends to the oppressed slaves. They spent their summers in the neighboring town of Brookline. A Boston physician, who was an Abolitionist, carried Ellen to their house in the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Loring were both absent from home for a few days, but a lady who was staying in the house received her with great kindness. She stayed there two days, assisting the lady very industriously and skilfully with her needle. Her mind was full of anxiety about her husband, whom she had left in the city exposed to the most fearful danger. She was very wakeful through the night, listening to every noise. As soon as she became drowsy, she would wake with a sudden start from some bad dream. She dreamed that she and William were running from the Georgia slave-catcher, and that Daniel Webster was close behind them, pointing a pistol at them. It was a sad thing that a man of such intellectual ability as Mr. Webster, and with so much influence in society, should make such bad use of his great power that he haunted the dreams of the poor and the oppressed. Ellen rose in the morning with a feeling of weariness and a great load upon her heart. But she kept back the tears that were ready to flow, and was so quiet and sweet-tempered that she completely gained the hearts of her protectors. Early the next evening, the same friend who carried Ellen from the city brought her husband to her. He also had been sleepless, and wasworn down with fatigue and anxiety. They were advised to retire to rest immediately, to remain in their room with the door locked, and be careful not to show themselves at the window. They followed these directions, and the lady was hoping they would both have peaceful and refreshing slumber, when Ellen came to say that her husband wanted to speak with her. She found him standing by the fireplace looking very sad, but with a dignified calmness that seemed to her truly noble in the midst of such dreadful danger. As she entered he said, "Ellen has just told me that Mr. and Mrs. Loring are absent from home. If we should be found in his house, he would be liable to imprisonment and a heavy fine. It is wrong for us to expose him to this danger without his knowledge and consent. We must seek shelter elsewhere." The lady replied: "Mr. Loring would feel troubled to have you leave his house under such circumstances. He is the best and kindest of men, and a great friend of the colored people." "That makes it all the more wrong for us to bring him into trouble on our account, without his knowledge," replied Mr. Crafts. Ellen had kept up bravely all day, but now her courage began to fail. She looked up with tears swimming in her handsome eyes and said: "O William, it is so dark and rainy to-night, and it seems so safe here! We may be seen and followed, if we go out. You said you didn't sleep last night. I started up from a little nap, dreaming that Daniel Webster was chasing us with a loaded pistol. I thought of all manner of horrid things that might be happening to you, and I couldn't sleep any more. Don't you think we might stay here just this one night?" He looked at her with pity in his eyes, but said, very firmly, "Ellen, it wouldn't be right." Without another wordshe prepared to go, though the tears were falling fast. The lady, finding his mind too fixed to be changed by her persuasions, sent a guide with them to the house of Mr. Philbrick, a worthy, kind-hearted gentleman, who lived about half a mile off. She herself told me the story; and she said she never felt so much respect and admiration for any human beings as she did for those two hunted slaves when she saw them walk out into the darkness and rain because they thought it wrong to endanger, without his consent, a friend of their persecuted people. She felt anxious lest the slave-catcher or his agents might seize them on the road, and it was a great relief to her mind when the guide returned and said Mr. Philbrick received them gladly.