Читать книгу Dealings with the Dead (Vol. 1&2) - Lucius M. Sargent - Страница 48

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Josiah Carter died, at the close of December, 1774. Never was there a happier occasion, for citing the Quis desiderio, &c., and I would cite that fine ode, were it not worn threadbare, like an old coverlet, by having been, immemorially, thrown over all manner of corpses, from the cobbler’s to the king’s.

If good old Dr. Charles Chauncy were within hearing, I would, indeed, apply to him a portion of its noble passages:

Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,

Nulli flebilior quam tibi——.

For good Josiah many wept, I fancy;

But none more fluently than Dr. Chauncy.

Josiah Carter was sexton of the Old Brick. He died, in the prime of life—fifty only—a martyr to his profession—conscientious to a fault—standing all alone in the cold vault, after the last mourner had retired, and knocking gently upon the coffin lid, seeking for some little sign of animation, and begging the corpse, for Heaven’s sake, if it were alive, to say so, in good English.

Carter was one of your real integer vitæ men. It is said of him, that he never actually lost his self-government, but once, in his life.

He was finishing a grave, in the Granary yard, and had come out of the pit, and was looking at his work, when a young, surgical sprig came up, and, with something of a mysterious air, shadowed forth a proposition, the substance of which was, that Carter should sell him the corpse—cover it lightly—and aid in removing it, by night. In an instant, Carter jerked the little chirurgeon into the grave—it was a deep one—and began to fill up, with all his might. The screams of the little fellow drew quite a number to the spot, and he was speedily rescued. When interrogated, years afterwards, as to his real intentions, at the time, Carter always became solemnized; and said he considered the preservation of that young doctor—a particular Providence.

Carter had a strong aversion to unburying—so have I—especially a hatchet. I have a rooted hatred of slavery; and I hope our friends, on the sunny side of Mason’s and Dixon’s line, will not censure me, for digging up the graves of the past, and exposing unsightly relics, while I solicit the world’s attention to the following literary bijoux.

To be sold, a young negro fellow, fit for country or other business.—Will be sold to the highest bidder, a very good gold watch, a negro boy, &c.—Cheap, for cash, a negro man, and woman, and two children.—A very likely negro wench, about 16 years of age.—A likely negro woman, about 30, cheap for cash.—A likely negro boy, about 13.—Sold only for want of employ, a healthy, tractable negro girl, about 18 years of age.—To be sold, for want of employ, a strong, hearty negro fellow, about 25 years of age.—Ran away, a negro, named Dick, a well-looking, well-shaped fellow, right negro, little on the yellow, &c.—A likely negro woman, about 33 years old, remarkable for honesty and good temper.—Grant Webster has for sale new and second hand chaises, rum, wines, and male and female negroes.—At auction, a negro woman that is used to most sorts of house business.—A likely, healthy negro man, a good cook, and can drive a carriage.—Ran away, a negro man, named Prince, a tall, straight fellow; he is about 33 years old, talks pretty good English; his design was to get off in some vessel, so as to go to England, under the notion, if he could get there, he should be free, &c.—Ten dollars reward: ran away, negro Primus, five feet ten inches high, long limbs, very long finger nails, &c.—To be sold, for no fault, a negro man, of good temper.—A valuable negro man.—Ran away, my negro, Cromarte, commonly called Crum, &c., &c.; whoever will return said runaway to me, or secure him in some public jail, &c.—The cash will be given for a negro boy of good temper.—A fine negro male child, to be given away.—To be sold, a Spanish Indian woman, about 21 years old, also a negro child, about two years old. To be sold, a strong, hearty negro girl, and her son, about a week old.—Ran away, my negro man, Samson; when he speaks has a leering look under his eyes; whoever will return him, or secure him in any of the jails, shall receive ten dollars reward. For sale, a likely negro man; has had the smallpox.—A likely negro boy, large for his age, about 13.—To be sold, very reasonably, a likely negro woman, about 33 or ’4 years of age.—To be sold or hired, for a number of years, a strong, healthy, honest, negro girl, about 16 years of age.

Ah, my dear, indignant reader, I marvel not, that you are grieved and shocked, that man should dare, directly under the eye of God, to offer his fellow for sale, as he would offer a side of mutton, or a slaughtered hog—that he should offer to sell him, from head to heel, liver and lights, and lungs, and heart, and bone, and muscle, and presume to convey over, to the buyer, the very will of the poor black man, for years, and for aye; so that the miserable creature should never draw in one single breath of freedom, but breathe the breath of a slave forever and ever. This is very damnable indeed—very. You read the advertisements, which I have paraded before you, with a sentiment of disgust towards the men of the South—nimium ne crede colori. These are northern negroes! these are northern advertisements!

————Mutato nomine, de te

Fabula narratur————.

Every one of these slaves was owned in Boston: every one of these advertisements was published in the Boston Gazette, and the two last on December 10, 1781. They are taken from one only of the public journals, and are a very Flemish sample of the whole cloth, which may be examined by him, who has leisure to turn over the several papers, then published here.

There is one, however, so awfully ridiculous, when we consider the profession of the deceased owner, and the place of sale, and which, in these connections, presents such an example of sacra, commixta profanis, that I must give the advertisement without defalcation. John Moorhead, the first minister of Bury, afterwards Berry Street Church, died Dec. 2, 1773. About a year after, his effects were sold, and the following advertisement appears, in the Boston Gazette, Jan. 2, 1775: “To be sold by Public Auction, on Thursday next, at ten o’clock in the Forenoon, all the Household Furniture, belonging to the Estate of the Rev. Mr. John Moorhead, deceased, consisting of Tables, Chairs, Looking Glasses, Feather Beds, Bedsteads and Bedding, Pewter, Brass, sundry Pieces of Plate, &c., &c. A valuable collection of Books—Also a likely Negro Lad—The sale to be at the House in Auchmuty’s Lane, South End, not far from Liberty Tree.”—Moses and the Prophets! A human being to be sold as a SLAVE, not far from Liberty Tree, in 1775!

Let me be clearly comprehended. Two wrongs cannot, like two negatives, neutralize each other. It is true, there was slavery in Massachusetts, and probably more of it, than is supposed to have existed, by many of the present generation. Free negroes were not numerous, in Boston, in those years. In the Boston Gazette of Jan. 2, 1775, it is stated, that 547 whites and 52 blacks were buried in the town in 1774; and 533 whites and 62 blacks in 1773. Such was the proportion then.

The energy of our northern constitution has exorcised the evil spirit of slavery. Common sense and the grace of God put it into the minds and hearts of our fathers, when the accursed Bohun Upas was a sapling, to pull it up, by the roots. It follows not, therefore, that the people of the South are entitled to be treated by us, their brethren, like outside barbarians, because they do not cast it out from their midst, as promptly, and as easily, now that it has stricken down its roots into the bowels of the earth, and become a colossus, and overshadowed the land. Slavery, being the abomination that it is, in the abstract, and in the relative, we may well regret, that it ever defiled our peninsula; especially that a slave market, for the sale of one slave only, ever existed, “not far from Liberty Tree.” In sober truth, we are not quite justified, for railing at the South, as we have done. The sins of our dear, old fathers are still so comparatively recent, in regard to slavery, that I am absolutely afraid to fire canister and grape, among the group of offenders, lest I should disturb the ashes of my ancestors. Neither may we forget, that we, of the North, consented, aided and abetted, constitutionally, in the confirmation of slavery. Some of the most furious of the abolitionists, in this fair city, are descendants in the right line, from Boston slaveholders—their fathers did not recognize the sinfulness of holding slaves!

The people of the South are entitled to civility, from the people of the North, because they are citizens of one common country; and, if there is one village, town, or city of these United States, that, more than any and all others, is under solemn obligations to cherish a sentiment of grateful and affectionate respect for the South, it is the city of Boston. I propose to refresh the reader’s recollection, in my next.