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Chapter I. A Slave Among Slaves
I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia.
I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth,
but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at
some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born
near a cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year
was 1858 or 1859. I do not know the month or the day. The
earliest impressions I can now recall are of the plantation and
the slave quarters--the latter being the part of the plantation
where the slaves had their cabins.
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable,
desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however,
not because my owners were especially cruel, for they were not,
as compared with many others. I was born in a typical log cabin,
about fourteen by sixteen feet square. In this cabin I lived with
my mother and a brother and sister till after the Civil War, when
we were all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and
even later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured
people of the tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my
ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of
the slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to America. I
have been unsuccessful in securing any information that would
throw any accurate light upon the history of my family beyond my
mother. She, I remember, had a half-brother and a half-sister. In
the days of slavery not very much attention was given to family
history and family records--that is, black family records. My
mother, I suppose, attracted the attention of a purchaser who was
afterward my owner and hers. Her addition to the slave family
attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a new horse
or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do not
even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he
was a white man who lived on one of the near-by plantations.
Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least interest in
me or providing in any way for my rearing. But I do not find
especial fault with him. He was simply another unfortunate victim
of the institution which the Nation unhappily had engrafted upon
it at that time.
The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used as the
kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook.
The cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the
side which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air of
winter. There was a door to the cabin--that is, something that
was called a door--but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung,
and the large cracks in it, to say nothing of the fact that it
was too small, made the room a very uncomfortable one. In
addition to these openings there was, in the lower right-hand
corner of the room, the "cat-hole," --a contrivance which almost
every mansion or cabin in Virginia possessed during the
ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square opening, about
seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of letting the
cat pass in and out of the house at will during the night. In the
case of our particular cabin I could never understand the
necessity for this convenience, since there were at least a
half-dozen other places in the cabin that would have accommodated
the cats. There was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked earth
being used as a floor. In the centre of the earthen floor there
was a large, deep opening covered with boards, which was used as
a place in which to store sweet potatoes during the winter. An
impression of this potato-hole is very distinctly engraved upon
my memory, because I recall that during the process of putting
the potatoes in or taking them out I would often come into
possession of one or two, which I roasted and thoroughly enjoyed.
There was no cooking-stove on our plantation, and all the cooking
for the whites and slaves my mother had to do over an open
fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets." While the poorly built
cabin caused us to suffer with cold in the winter, the heat from
the open fireplace in summer was equally trying.
The early years of my life, which were spent in the little cabin,
were not very different from those of thousands of other slaves.
My mother, of course, had little time in which to give attention
to the training of her children during the day. She snatched a
few moments for our care in the early morning before her work
began, and at night after the day's work was done. One of my
earliest recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken
late at night, and awakening her children for the purpose of
feeding them. How or where she got it I do not know. I presume,
however, it was procured from our owner's farm. Some people may
call this theft. If such a thing were to happen now, I should
condemn it as theft myself. But taking place at the time it did,
and for the reason that it did, no one could ever make me believe
that my mother was guilty of thieving. She was simply a victim of
the system of slavery. I cannot remember having slept in a bed
until after our family was declared free by the Emancipation
Proclamation. Three children--John, my older brother, Amanda, my
sister, and myself--had a pallet on the dirt floor, or, to be
more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of filthy rags laid
upon the dirt floor.
I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports and
pastimes that I engaged in during my youth. Until that question
was asked it had never occurred to me that there was no period of
my life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can
remember anything, almost every day of my life had been occupied
in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more
useful man if I had had time for sports. During the period that I
spent in slavery I was not large enough to be of much service,
still I was occupied most of the time in cleaning the yards,
carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the mill to
which I used to take the corn, once a week, to be ground. The
mill was about three miles from the plantation. This work I
always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be thrown across the
back of the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each
side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips,
the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and would fall
off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not
strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to
wait, sometimes for many hours, till a chance passer-by came
along who would help me out of my trouble. The hours while
waiting for some one were usually spent in crying. The time
consumed in this way made me late in reaching the mill, and by
the time I got my corn ground and reached home it would be far
into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led through
dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods were said to be
full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I had been
told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he
found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late
in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or a
flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I
remember on several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse
door with one of my young mistresses to carry her books. The
picture of several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged
in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling
that to get into a schoolhouse and study in this way would be
about the same as getting into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the
fact that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was
being discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was
awakened by my mother kneeling over her children and fervently
praying that Lincoln and his armies might be successful, and that
one day she and her children might be free. In this connection I
have never been able to understand how the slaves throughout the
South, completely ignorant as were the masses so far as books or
newspapers were concerned, were able to keep themselves so
accurately and completely informed about the great National
questions that were agitating the country. From the time that
Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the
slaves throughout the South kept in close touch with the progress
of the movement. Though I was a mere child during the preparation
for the Civil War and during the war itself, I now recall the
many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my mother
and the other slaves on the plantation indulge in. These
discussions showed that they understood the situation, and that
they kept themselves informed of events by what was termed the
"grape-vine" telegraph.
During the campaign when Lincoln was first a candidate for the
Presidency, the slaves on our far-off plantation, miles from any
railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew what the issues
involved were. When war was begun between the North and the
South, every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though
other issues were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery.
Even the most ignorant members of my race on the remote
plantations felt in their hearts, with a certainty that admitted
of no doubt, that the freedom of the slaves would be the one
great result of the war, if the northern armies conquered. Every
success of the Federal armies and every defeat of the Confederate
forces was watched with the keenest and most intense interest.
Often the slaves got knowledge of the results of great battles
before the white people received it. This news was usually gotten
from the coloured man who was sent to the post-office for the
mail. In our case the post-office was about three miles from the
plantation, and the mail came once or twice a week. The man who
was sent to the office would linger about the place long enough
to get the drift of the conversation from the group of white
people who naturally congregated there, after receiving their
mail, to discuss the latest news. The mail-carrier on his way
back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news
that he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often
heard of important events before the white people at the "big
house," as the master's house was called.
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early
boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together,
and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a
civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later,
meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get
theirs. It was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there.
It was a cup of milk at one time and some potatoes at another.
Sometimes a portion of our family would eat out of the skillet or
pot, while some one else would eat from a tin plate held on the
knees, and often using nothing but the hands with which to hold
the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required to
go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the
table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley.
Naturally much of the conversation of the white people turned
upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good
deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young
mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the
yard. At that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the
most tempting and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I
then and there resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of
my ambition would be reached if I could get to the point where I
could secure and eat ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those
ladies doing.
Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in many
cases, often found it difficult to secure food for themselves. I
think the slaves felt the deprivation less than the whites,
because the usual diet for slaves was corn bread and pork, and
these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar,
and other articles which the whites had been accustomed to use
could not be raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought
about by the war frequently made it impossible to secure these
things. The whites were often in great straits. Parched corn was
used for coffee, and a kind of black molasses was used instead of
sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten the so-called tea
and coffee.
The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones.
They had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were
about an inch thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a
fearful noise, and besides this they were very inconvenient,
since there was no yielding to the natural pressure of the foot.
In wearing them one presented and exceedingly awkward appearance.
The most trying ordeal that I was forced to endure as a slave
boy, however, was the wearing of a flax shirt. In the portion of
Virginia where I lived it was common to use flax as part of the
clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax from which our
clothing was made was largely the refuse, which of course was the
cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any torture,
except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that
caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first time. It is
almost equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a
dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in
contact with his flesh. Even to this day I can recall accurately
the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of these
garments. The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to the
pain. But I had no choice. I had to wear the flax shirt or none;
and had it been left to me to choose, I should have chosen to
wear no covering. In connection with the flax shirt, my brother
John, who is several years older than I am, performed one of the
most generous acts that I ever heard of one slave relative doing
for another. On several occasions when I was being forced to wear
a new flax shirt, he generously agreed to put it on in my stead
and wear it for several days, till it was "broken in." Until I
had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that I
wore.
One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was
bitter feeling toward the white people on the part of my race,
because of the fact that most of the white population was away
fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in
slavery if the South was successful. In the case of the slaves on
our place this was not true, and it was not true of any large
portion of the slave population in the South where the Negro was
treated with anything like decency. During the Civil War one of
my young masters was killed, and two were severely wounded. I
recall the feeling of sorrow which existed among the slaves when
they heard of the death of "Mars' Billy." It was no sham sorrow,
but real. Some of the slaves had nursed "Mars' Billy"; others had
played with him when he was a child. "Mars' Billy" had begged for
mercy in the case of others when the overseer or master was
thrashing them. The sorrow in the slave quarter was only second
to that in the "big house." When the two young masters were
brought home wounded, the sympathy of the slaves was shown in
many ways. They were just as anxious to assist in the nursing as
the family relatives of the wounded. Some of the slaves would
even beg for the privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their
wounded masters. This tenderness and sympathy on the part of
those held in bondage was a result of their kindly and generous
nature. In order to defend and protect the women and children who
were left on the plantations when the white males went to war,
the slaves would have laid down their lives. The slave who was
selected to sleep in the "big house" during the absence of the
males was considered to have the place of honour. Any one
attempting to harm "young Mistress" or "old Mistress" during the
night would have had to cross the dead body of the slave to do
so. I do not know how many have noticed it, but I think that it
will be found to be true that there are few instances, either in
slavery or freedom, in which a member of my race has been known
to betray a specific trust.
As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain no
feelings of bitterness against the whites before and during the
war, but there are many instances of Negroes tenderly carrying
for their former masters and mistresses who for some reason have
become poor and dependent since the war. I know of instances
where the former masters of slaves have for years been supplied
with money by their former slaves to keep them from suffering. I
have known of still other cases in which the former slaves have
assisted in the education of the descendants of their former
owners. I know of a case on a large plantation in the South in
which a young white man, the son of the former owner of the
estate, has become so reduced in purse and self-control by reason
of drink that he is a pitiable creature; and yet, notwithstanding
the poverty of the coloured people themselves on this plantation,
they have for years supplied this young white man with the
necessities of life. One sends him a little coffee or sugar,
another a little meat, and so on. Nothing that the coloured
people possess is too good for the son of "old Mars' Tom," who
will perhaps never be permitted to suffer while any remain on the
place who knew directly or indirectly of "old Mars' Tom."
I have said that there are few instances of a member of my race
betraying a specific trust. One of the best illustrations of this
which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave from Virginia whom
I met not long ago in a little town in the state of Ohio. I found
that this man had made a contract with his master, two or three
years previous to the Emancipation Proclamation, to the effect
that the slave was to be permitted to buy himself, by paying so
much per year for his body; and while he was paying for himself,
he was to be permitted to labour where and for whom he pleased.
Finding that he could secure better wages in Ohio, he went there.
When freedom came, he was still in debt to his master some three
hundred dollars. Notwithstanding that the Emancipation
Proclamation freed him from any obligation to his master, this
black man walked the greater portion of the distance back to
where his old master lived in Virginia, and placed the last
dollar, with interest, in his hands. In talking to me about this,
the man told me that he knew that he did not have to pay the
debt, but that he had given his word to the master, and his word
he had never broken. He felt that he could not enjoy his freedom
till he had fulfilled his promise.
From some things that I have said one may get the idea that some
of the slaves did not want freedom. This is not true. I have
never seen one who did not want to be free, or one who would
return to slavery.
I pity from the bottom of my heart any nation or body of people
that is so unfortunate as to get entangled in the net of slavery.
I have long since ceased to cherish any spirit of bitterness
against the Southern white people on account of the enslavement
of my race. No one section of our country was wholly responsible
for its introduction, and, besides, it was recognized and
protected for years by the General Government. Having once got
its tentacles fastened on to the economic and social life of the
Republic, it was no easy matter for the country to relieve itself
of the institution. Then, when we rid ourselves of prejudice, or
racial feeling, and look facts in the face, we must acknowledge
that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral wrong of slavery, the
ten million Negroes inhabiting this country, who themselves or
whose ancestors went through the school of American slavery, are
in a stronger and more hopeful condition, materially,
intellectually, morally, and religiously, than is true of an
equal number of black people in any other portion of the globe.
This is so to such an extend that Negroes in this country, who
themselves or whose forefathers went through the school of
slavery, are constantly returning to Africa as missionaries to
enlighten those who remained in the fatherland. This I say, not
to justify slavery--on the other hand, I condemn it as an
institution, as we all know that in America it was established
for selfish and financial reasons, and not from a missionary
motive--but to call attention to a fact, and to show how
Providence so often uses men and institutions to accomplish a
purpose. When persons ask me in these days how, in the midst of
what sometimes seem hopelessly discouraging conditions, I can
have such faith in the future of my race in this country, I
remind them of the wilderness through which and out of which, a
good Providence has already led us.
Ever since I have been old enough to think for myself, I have
entertained the idea that, notwithstanding the cruel wrongs
inflicted upon us, the black man got nearly as much out of
slavery as the white man did. The hurtful influences of the
institution were not by any means confined to the Negro. This was
fully illustrated by the life upon our own plantation. The whole
machinery of slavery was so constructed as to cause labour, as a
rule, to be looked upon as a badge of degradation, of
inferiority. Hence labour was something that both races on the
slave plantation sought to escape. The slave system on our place,
in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and
self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys
and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a single
trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were not
taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this
was left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little
personal interest in the life of the plantation, and their
ignorance prevented them from learning how to do things in the
most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system,
fences were out of repair, gates were hanging half off the
hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had
fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in the yard. As a rule,
there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and
on the dining-room table, there was wanting that delicacy and
refinement of touch and finish which can make a home the most
convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world.
Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was
sad. When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to
begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of
book-learning and ownership of property. The slave owner and his
sons had mastered no special industry. They unconsciously had
imbibed the feeling that manual labour was not the proper thing
for them. On the other hand, the slaves, in many cases, had
mastered some handicraft, and none were ashamed, and few
unwilling, to labour.
Finally the war closed, and the day of freedom came. It was a
momentous and eventful day to all upon our plantation. We had
been expecting it. Freedom was in the air, and had been for
months. Deserting soldiers returning to their homes were to be
seen every day. Others who had been discharged, or whose
regiments had been paroled, were constantly passing near our
place. The "grape-vine telegraph" was kept busy night and day.
The news and mutterings of great events were swiftly carried from
one plantation to another. In the fear of "Yankee" invasions, the
silverware and other valuables were taken from the "big house,"
buried in the woods, and guarded by trusted slaves. Woe be to any
one who would have attempted to disturb the buried treasure. The
slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink,
clothing--anything but that which had been specifically intrusted
to their care and honour. As the great day drew nearer, there was
more singing in the slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had
more ring, and lasted later into the night. Most of the verses of
the plantation songs had some reference to freedom. True, they
had sung those same verses before, but they had been careful to
explain that the "freedom" in these songs referred to the next
world, and had no connection with life in this world. Now they
gradually threw off the mask, and were not afraid to let it be
known that the "freedom" in their songs meant freedom of the body
in this world. The night before the eventful day, word was sent
to the slave quarters to the effect that something unusual was
going to take place at the "big house" the next morning. There
was little, if any, sleep that night. All as excitement and
expectancy. Early the next morning word was sent to all the
slaves, old and young, to gather at the house. In company with my
mother, brother, and sister, and a large number of other slaves,
I went to the master's house. All of our master's family were
either standing or seated on the veranda of the house, where they
could see what was to take place and hear what was said. There
was a feeling of deep interest, or perhaps sadness, on their
faces, but not bitterness. As I now recall the impression they
made upon me, they did not at the moment seem to be sad because
of the loss of property, but rather because of parting with those
whom they had reared and who were in many ways very close to
them. The most distinct thing that I now recall in connection
with the scene was that some man who seemed to be a stranger (a
United States officer, I presume) made a little speech and then
read a rather long paper--the Emancipation Proclamation, I think.
After the reading we were told that we were all free, and could
go when and where we pleased. My mother, who was standing by my
side, leaned over and kissed her children, while tears of joy ran
down her cheeks. She explained to us what it all meant, that this
was the day for which she had been so long praying, but fearing
that she would never live to see.
For some minutes there was great rejoicing, and thanksgiving, and
wild scenes of ecstasy. But there was no feeling of bitterness.
In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our former owners.
The wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated coloured people
lasted but for a brief period, for I noticed that by the time
they returned to their cabins there was a change in their
feelings. The great responsibility of being free, of having
charge of themselves, of having to think and plan for themselves
and their children, seemed to take possession of them. It was
very much like suddenly turning a youth of ten or twelve years
out into the world to provide for himself. In a few hours the
great questions with which the Anglo-Saxon race had been
grappling for centuries had been thrown upon these people to be
solved. These were the questions of a home, a living, the rearing
of children, education, citizenship, and the establishment and
support of churches. Was it any wonder that within a few hours
the wild rejoicing ceased and a feeling of deep gloom seemed to
pervade the slave quarters? To some it seemed that, now that they
were in actual possession of it, freedom was a more serious thing
than they had expected to find it. Some of the slaves were
seventy or eighty years old; their best days were gone. They had
no strength with which to earn a living in a strange place and
among strange people, even if they had been sure where to find a
new place of abode. To this class the problem seemed especially
hard. Besides, deep down in their hearts there was a strange and
peculiar attachment to "old Marster" and "old Missus," and to
their children, which they found it hard to think of breaking
off. With these they had spent in some cases nearly a
half-century, and it was no light thing to think of parting.
Gradually, one by one, stealthily at first, the older slaves
began to wander from the slave quarters back to the "big house"
to have a whispered conversation with their former owners as to
the future.
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