|
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.
|
Table of Contents
