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ОглавлениеPREFACE.
In giving the following “Sketches of Slave Life” to the public, the writer hopes that, whatever may be their literary defects, they will help to increase the sympathy now so widely felt for the poor crushed and perishing slaves in this land—a land most untruly styled “the home of the free and the brave.” He has known what it is to be a slave; and now that he has been set free, it is the ruling desire of his heart to do something, however feeble it may be, towards effecting the emancipation of the millions of his afflicted brethren, who are still held in the galling chains of bondage at the South. Remembering that he has never had any education, except such as he has been able to pick up for himself, the readers of this little work (especially in view of its object) will kindly overlook such errors of style as may be found in it.
The writer was formerly owned as a slave by one C. H. Edloe, of Prince George County, Virginia, who also owned eighty others. His plantation was located on James River, in what was called upper Brandon. He always seemed to have some conscientious scruples in regard to holding slaves, and would not join any church, because “he did not believe he could be a Christian, and yet be a slaveholder.” Six years before he died, he made his will, in which he set all his slaves free at his death, which took place July 29, 1844. This was truly a Christian act. More than three years passed away, however, before we obtained our liberty, when, being compelled to leave the State of Virginia, we came to Boston, (sixty-six in number,) Sept. 15, 1847, where we were received with Christian sympathy and kindness. Men, women and children, from twelve months to seventy-five years old, constituted our happy company. Some of these have gone the way of all the earth: the remainder continue in Massachusetts, and are proving to the world, by their conduct, that slaves, when liberated, can take care of themselves, and need no master or overseer to drive them to their toil. All that they need is—first, freedom—next, encouragement and a fair reward for their labor, and a suitable opportunity to improve themselves—without which, no people, black or white, can reasonably be expected to be industrious laborers or enlightened citizens.
May God hasten the day when not a slave shall be found in America, to water her soil with his tears, or stain it with his blood!
PETER RANDOLPH.
Boston, May 10, 1855.
NOTE TO THE PREFACE.
It was on the morning of the 15th of September, 1847, that I learned, from a constant and true friend to the slave,—Mr. Robert R. Crosby,—that a large company of colored people, said to be emancipated slaves from Virginia, were then landing from a schooner at Long Wharf. I immediately went thither, and found the report correct. The people in question were in part upon the wharf, and some had not yet left the vessel. I entered into conversation with several of their number, and learned that they had been slaves in Prince George county, Virginia, on the estate of Mr. Carter H. Edloe, on the James River. Mr. Edloe died in 1844, and by will provided for the emancipation of his slaves, and for the payment to each one of fifty dollars, whenever they should elect to receive their freedom and go out of the State of Virginia. With a few of his slaves, for especial reasons, he had dealt much more liberally. The provisions of Mr. Edloe’s will, it would however appear, were not carried out in the spirit of the testator, and there is reason to believe that the executor designedly deceived and wronged the slaves. They were kept at work upon the estate, as slaves, for more than three years after their master’s death, on the pretence that there was not money sufficient to pay them the sum which the will specified. At the end of that time, in despair of obtaining their rights under the will, the larger part of the people determined to take what they could get, which was less than fifteen dollars each, and go to a free State. There were sixty-six of them,—of both sexes and of all ages, from seventy-five years down to infancy,—who decided to go to Boston. Their passage was secured in the schooner Thomas H. Thompson, Wickson, master, by which vessel they arrived in Boston, as stated above.
Such was the story told to me; and I may add, that further inquiries have entirely satisfied me of its correctness. I found these emancipated people, without exception, desirous of obtaining situations where they might at once go to work,—none fearing but that they could support themselves and their families, if they could find employment. Of course, I expressed my readiness to aid them in obtaining places, if they wished to do so. The offer was gratefully accepted, and without much loss of time, places were found, out of the city, for about one half of them. The remainder found homes and occupation in the city, or its immediate vicinity.
Eight years have now nearly elapsed, during which time I have observed the course of these emancipated slaves with attention and with some curiosity. I regarded the experiment they were making as an exceedingly interesting one; such an one as, if successful, ought to convince even the most skeptical, of the ability of the colored man, even when reared in the ignorance and partial dependence which the condition of slavery imposes, to “take care of himself.” For this was not a company of slaves selected for any special capacity, or of such as by their own skill and daring had achieved freedom. They were the ordinary working force of one plantation,—of all ages and capacities, and in various states of health; and might be presumed to be a fair representation of the average condition at least of Virginia slaves. The experiment,—if any choose so to regard it,—has had a fair trial, and has resulted, I can truly say, very much to their credit. Since the first few months after their arrival,—when, on account of their destitution and the strangeness of a new home, occasional help was needed by a number of them,—the instances in which they have sought charitable aid have been few and infrequent. Even an aged and nearly worn-out man of their number for six years maintained himself by his daily labor, and only ceased to attempt it longer, when told that he must desist by reason of infirmity of age, at upwards of four score years. Generally, so far as my knowledge extends, they have secured for themselves a sufficient though frugal living, and some of them have decidedly prospered. And in regard to sobriety, honesty, and general good conduct, they will not suffer by comparison with any like number of people in the community.
It affords me a sincere pleasure to be able to give this testimony in behalf of these people, our hardly-entreated brethren. For, unusually fortunate as they were in having a master so eccentric as to believe that his slaves desired liberty and were entitled to it, yet their lot in slavery left, as it ever must, on body and mind, indelible marks of its blighting power. When all the untoward, disheartening, soul-crushing influences of their former life are considered, it seems to me not less surprising, than it is honorable to themselves, that they have used their liberty so justly and so well.
I think it well to subjoin their names and ages, from a list taken by me at the time of their arrival. Some of them have gone “where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”
Lucy Fountin, 76.
Chas. Fountin, ab’t 40.
Wm. Fountin, do.
Carter Selden, 47, wife and six children.
Levi Scott, about 75.
Daniel ——.
Frank Churchwell, 54.
Adam Harrison, 55.
George Mayerson, 45, wife and two children.
Burry Robeson, wife and two children.
Davy Mead, 45.
Patty Mead, his wife.
Torrington Ruffin, 36, wife and four children.
William Archy, 32, wife and five children.
Davy Jones, 40.
Peter Randolph, 27, wife and child.
Anthony Randolph, 24.
Richard Randolph, 22.
James Randolph, 10.
Wyatt Lee, 25, wife and two children.
Andrew Clark, 23, wife and child.
Henry Carter, and wife.
Amy Richardson, 29, two children.
Judy Griffin, 26, two children.
Fanny Bailey, 30.
Sam. Jones, 24.
Richard Whiting.
Jack Harrison, 29.
Ralph Webb, 24.
Peter Taylor, 36.
The unpretending work, written by one of the above sixty-six, (to the second edition of which this Note is added,) is commended to the public as wholly trustworthy, and deserving of their favor.
SAMUEL MAY, Jr.
Boston, August 3, 1855.
