 | Sheppard Lee |  |
BOOK VI.
CONTAINING A HISTORY AND A MORAL.
1. CHAPTER I.
In which Sheppard Lee finds every thing black about him.
When I opened my eyes I found that I was lying
in a hovel, very mean of appearance, yet with
a certain neatness and cleanliness about it that prevented
it from looking squalid. It is true that the
floor, which was of planks, was somewhat awry
and dilapidated; that the little window, which, with
the door, furnished, or was meant to furnish, its
only light, was rather bountifully bedecked with
old hats and scraps of brown paper; and that the
walls of ill-plastered logs displayed divers gleaming
chinks, and vistas through them of the sunny
prospects without. Nevertheless, the place did not
look amiss for a poor man, and, in my experience
as a philanthropist, I had seen hundreds much more
miserable.
An old woman sat at the fireplace, nodding over
a stew, the fumes of which were both savoury and
agreeable. The old woman was, however, as black
as the outside of her stew-pan—in other words, a
negress; and this circumstance striking upon the
had lately befallen me. A terrible suspicion flashed
into my mind. Had I not—but before I could
ask myself the question, my hand, which I had
raised to scratch my head, came into contact with a
mop of elastic wool, such as never grew upon the
scalp of a white man. I started up in bed and
looked at my hands and arms; they were of the
hue of ebony—or, to speak more strictly, of smoked
mahogany. I saw a fragment of looking-glass
hanging on the wall within my reach. I snatched
it down, and took a survey of my physiognomy.
Miserable me! my face was as black as my arms
—and, indeed, somewhat more so—presenting a
sable globe, broken only by two red lips of immense
magnitude, and a brace of eyes as white and as
wide as plain China saucers, or peeled turnips.
“Whaw dah!” cried the old woman, roused by
the noise I made; “whaw dat, you nigga Tom?
what you doin' dah? Lorra bless us! if a nigga
break a neck, can't a nigga hold-a still?”
Alas! and had my fate brought me to this grievous
pass? Was there no other situation in life
sufficiently wretched, but that I must take up my
lot in the body of a miserable negro slave? How
idle had been all my past discontent! how foolish
the persuasion I had indulged five different times,
that I was, on each occasion, the most unhappy of
men! I had forgotten the state of the bondman,
the condition of the expatriated African. Now I
was at last to learn in reality what it was to be
wretchedness, the true repository of all the griefs
that can afflict a human being. Already I felt, in
imagination, the blow of the task-master on my
back, the fetter on my limb, the iron in my soul;
and when the old woman made a step towards me,
perhaps to discover why I made no reply to her
questions, I was so prepossessed with the idea of
whips and lashes, that I made a dodge under the
bedclothes, as if to escape a thwack.
“Golly matty! is de nigga mad?” cried the
Jezebel. “I say, you nigga Tom, what you doin'?
How you neck feel now?”
“My neck?” thought I, recollecting that it had
been broken, and wondering in what way it had
been mended. I clapped my hands to it; it was
very stiff and sore: while I felt at it, the old woman
told me some great doctor had twisted a great
“kink” out of it; but I bestowed little notice on
what she said. My mind ran upon other matters;
I could think of nothing but cowhides and cat-o'-nine-tails,
that were to welcome me to bondage.
“Aunty,” said I—why I addressed the old lady
thus I know not; but I have observed that negroes
always address their seniors by the titles of uncle
and aunt, and I suppose the instinct was on me—
“am I a slave?”
“What a fool nigga to ax a question!” said
she. “What you gwying to be, den, but old Massa
Jodge's nigga-boy Tom? What you git up
faw, ha?” —(I was making an attempt to rise)—
up faw, ha?”
“I intend to run away,” said I; and truly that
was the notion then uppermost in my mind; and it
is very likely I should have made a bolt for the
door that moment, had I not discovered an uncommon
weakness in my lower limbs, which prevented
my getting out of bed.
“Whaw! what a fool!” cried the beldam, regarding
me with surprise and contempt; “what
you do when you run away, ha? Who'll hab you?
who'll feed you? who'll take care of you? who'll
own a good-fo'-nothin' runaway nigga, I say, ha?
Kick him 'bout h'yah, kick him 'bout dah, poor
despise nigga wid no massa, jist as despise as any
free nigga! You run away, ha? what den?”
continued my sable monitress, warming into eloquence
as she spoke: “take up constable, clap him
in jail, salt him down cowskin. Dat all? No!
sell him low price, send Mississippi—what den?
Work in de cotton-field, pull at de cane. Dat all?
No! cussed overseer wid a long whip—cut h'yah,
cut dah, cut high, cut low—whip all day, cuff all
night—take all de skin off—oh! dey do whip to
de debbil in de Mississippi!” And as the old lady
concluded, to give more effect to her expressions,
she fell to rubbing her back and dodging her head
from side to side, until I had the liveliest idea in
the world of that very castigation of which I stood
in such horror.
2. CHAPTER II.
In which Sheppard Lee is introduced to his master.
Just at this moment, to make my anguish more
complete, in stepped a tall and dignified person,
bearing a huge walking-stick; with which I was
so certain he would proceed to maul me, that I
made a second dive under the bedclothes, loudly
beseeching him for mercy.
To my surprise, however, instead of beating me,
he spoke to the old woman, whom he called aunt
Phœbe (and who, in return, entitled him Massa
Jodge), asked “if I was not light-headed?” said that
“it was a great pity I had so hard a time of it,” that
“I was very much hurt,” that “he would be sorry to
lose me,” and so on; and, in fine, expressed what
he said in accents so humane and gentle, that I
was encouraged to steal a peep at him; seeing
which he sat down on a stool, felt my pulse, and
giving me quite a good-natured look, asked me “if
I felt in much pain?”
I was astonished that he should treat me thus, if
my master. But, surveying him more intently, I
perceived there was little in his appearance to justify
any fears of cruelty. He was an aged man,
with a head of silver that gave him an uncommonly
venerable air; and, though his visage was grave,
My terrors fled before his soothing accents and
benevolent looks; but being still confused, I was
unable to reply in proper terms to his questions;
so that when he asked me, as he soon did, what I
meant by crying for mercy, I made answer, “Oh
Lord, sir, I was afraid you was going to beat me!”
at which he laughed, and said “my conscience
was growing tenderer than common;” adding, that
“there was no doubt I deserved a trouncing, as
did every other boy on his estate; for a set of
greater scoundrels than his was not to be found in
all Virginia; and if they had their deserts, they
would get a round dozen apiece every day.”
He then began to ask me particularly about my
ailments; and I judged from his questions and
certain occasional remarks which he let fall, that I
had been lying insensible for several days, that my
neck had been put out of place, or dislocated, and
reduced again by some practitioner of uncommon
skill. And here, lest the reader should think such
a circumstance improbable, I beg leave to say that
I have lately seen an account of a similar operation
performed by an English surgeon on the neck
of a fox-hunting squire; and as the story appeared
in the newspapers, there can be no doubt of its
truth.
While the gentleman—my master—was thus
asking me of my pains, and betraying an interest
in my welfare that softened my heart towards him,
sweet countenance, followed by two or three younger
girls and a little boy, all of whom seemed glad
to see me, the little boy in particular, shaking me
by the hand, while his youthful sisters (for all were
my master's children) began to drag from a basket
and display before my eyes the legs of a roasted
chicken, a little tart, a jelly, and divers other dainty
viands, which they had brought with them, as they
said, “for poor sick Tom,” and insisted upon seeing
him eat on the spot. As for the young lady,
the eldest sister, she smiled on them and on me
(for I was not backward to accept and dispose of
the savoury gifts), but told me I must not be imprudent,
nor eat too much, and I would soon be
well. “What!” thought I, “does a slave ever eat
too much?”
It is astonishing what a revolution was effected
in my feelings by the gentle deportment of my
master, and the kindly act of his children. I looked
upon them and myself with entirely new eyes;
I felt a sort of affection for them steal through my
spirit, and I wondered why I had ever thought of
them with fear. I took a particular liking to the
little boy, who, by-the-by, was a namesake of
mine, he being Massa Tommy, and I plain Tom,
and I had an unaccountable longing come over me
to take him on my back and go galloping on all-fours
over the grass at the door. I had no more
thoughts of running away to avoid the dreadful
lash, and the shame of bonds; and, my master and
first charged me to keep myself quiet and easy, I
fell sound asleep, and dreamed I lay a whole day
on my back on a clay-bank, eating johnny-cake
and fried bacon.
3. CHAPTER III.
An old woman's cure for a disease extremely prevalent both in the
coloured and uncoloured creation.
The next day I was visited again by my master,
and by other members of his family whom I had
not seen before, and of whom I shall say nothing
now, having occasion to mention them hereafter.
The children brought me “goodies” as before, and
little Tommy told me to “make haste and get well,
for there were none of the other `boys' ”—meaning
negroes—“who knew how to gallop the cock-horse
half so well as I.” In short, I was treated
like a human being, and fed like a king, and began
to grow wondrous content with my situation. The
doctor also came, and having fingered about my
neck for a while, declared my case to be the most
marvellous one ever known, and concluded by telling
me I was well enough to get up, and that I
might do so whenever I chose.
Now this was a matter of which I was as well
satisfied as he could be, being quite certain I never
was better in my life; but I felt amazing delight in
good things with which my master's children so
liberally supplied me; and, I believe; had they left
the matter to be decided by my own will, I should
have been lying on that bed, luxuriating in happy
laziness, to this day. It is certain I fabricated
falsehoods without number, for the mere purpose
of keeping my bed; for whenever my master, who
came to inquire about me at least once a day, ventured
to hint I was well enough to get up if I
would but choose to think so, I felt myself unaccountably
impelled to declare, with sighs and
groans, that I could scarce move a limb, and that I
suffered endless pangs; all which was false, for I
was strong as a horse, and without any pain whatever.
“Well, well,” my venerable master used to say,
“I know you are cheating me, you rascal. But
that's the way with you all. A negro will be a negro;
and, sure, I have the laziest set of scoundrels
on my estate that ever ate up a good-natured master.”
Unhappily, for so I then thought it, old aunt
Phœbe, who had been appointed to nurse me, and
who was very conscientious about her master's interest
in all cases where her own was not involved,
was by no means so easily imposed upon as the
old gentleman; and on the seventh day after I
opened my eyes, she dispelled a pleasing revery in
which I was indulging, by bidding me arise and
begone. I began to plead my pains: “Can't play
nigga, not worth you cawn!” and, not deigning to
employ any other argument, she took a broomstick
to me, and fairly beat me out of the hovel. I
thought it was very odd I should get my first beating
of a fellow-slave, and I was somewhat incensed
at the old woman for her cruelty; but by-and-by,
when I had taken a seat in the sunshine, snuffed
the fresh autumn air, and looked about me a little,
I fell into a better humour with her, and—if that
were possible—with myself.
4. CHAPTER IV.
Some account of Ridgewood Hill, and the Author's occupations.
My master's lands lay on and near the Potomac,
and his house was built on a hill, which bore his
own name, and gave name also to the estate—that
is, Ridgewood Hill. It overlooked that wide and
beautiful river, being separated from it only by a
lawn, which in the centre was hollow, and ran down
to the river in a ravine, while its flanks or extremities,
sloping but gently in their whole course, suddenly
fell down to the shore in wooded bluffs, that
looked very bold and romantic from the water. In
the hollow of the lawn was a little brook, that rose
from a spring further up the hill, and found its way
to the river through the ravine, where it made many
while a creek, that was wide but shallow, swept in
from the river above, and went winding away among
the hills behind.
My master's house was ancient, and, I must say,
not in so good repair as it might have been; but
there were so many beautiful trees about it that one
would not think of its defects, the more especially
as it appeared only the more venerable for them.
It looked handsome enough from the river; and
even from the negro-huts, which were nearer the
creek, it had an agreeable appearance; particularly
when the children were playing together on the
lawn, which they did, and sometimes white and
black together, nearly all day long. They were
thus engaged in their sports when aunt Phœbe
drove me from the hovel; and I remember how
soon my indignation at the unceremonious ejection
was pacified by looking on the happy creatures,
thus enjoying themselves on the grass, while my
master and his eldest daughter sat on the porch,.regarding
them with smiles.
How greatly I had changed within a few short
days! Instead of being moved by the sight of
juvenile independence and happiness to think of
my own bitter state of servitude, I was filled with
a foolish glee; and little Tommy running up to
me with shouts of joy, down I dropped on my
hands and knees, and taking him on my back,
began to trot, and gallop, and rear, and curvet over
the lawn, to the infinite gratification of himself, his
all of whom rewarded my efforts of horseship with
screams of approbation. Now the reader will be
surprised to hear it, but I, Tom the slave (I never
remember to have heard myself called any thing
but Tom), enjoyed this foolish sport just as much
as Tommy the rider, to whom I felt, I think, some
such feelings of affection—I know not how I got
them, but feel them I did—as a father experiences
while playing the courser to his own child. Nay,
I was thrown into such good-humour, and felt so
content with myself, that when my master came to
me, and bade me “take care lest I should hurt
myself by my exertions,” I told him, in the fervour
of my heart, I was doing very well, and that I was
as strong as ever I had been; which caused him
to laugh, and say I was growing marvellous honest
of a sudden.
About this time the field-hands returned from
their daily labour, and, having despatched their
evening meal, they came, the women and children
with them, under the trees before the door, with
banjoes, fiddles, and clacking-bones (that is, a sort
of castanets made of the ribs of an ox), and began
to sing and dance, as was their custom always
every fair evening; for my master greatly delighted,
as he said, to see the poor devils enjoy themselves;
in which the poor devils were ever ready
to oblige him. They had no sooner begun the
diversion, than I was seized with an unaccountable
desire to join them, which I did, dancing with all
the merriest and happiest of them all. And this
sort of amusement, I may as well now inform the
reader, we were in the habit of repeating so long
as the mildness of the weather permitted.
5. CHAPTER V.
In which the Author further describes his situation, and philosophizes
on the state of slavery.
Having thus shown myself to be perfectly cured
of my broken neck, it followed that, as a slave, I
was now compelled to go into the fields and labour.
This I did, at first, very reluctantly; but by-and-by
I discovered there was but little toil expected
of me, or indeed of any other bondman; for the
overseer was a good-natured man like his employer,
and lazy like ourselves. I do not know how it
may be with the slaves on other estates; but I must
confess that, so far as mere labour went, there was
less done by, and less looked for from, my master's
hands, than I have ever known to be the case with
the white labourers of New-Jersey. My master
owned extensive tracts of land, from which, although
now greatly empoverished and almost exhausted,
he might have drawn a princely revenue,
had he exacted of his slaves the degree of labour
always demanded of able-bodied hirelings in a free
or such, at least, was not the custom of my master.
He was of a happy, easy temper, neglectful of his
interest, and though often—nay, I may say incessantly—grumbling
at the flagrant laziness of all
who called him master, and at the yearly depreciation
of his lands, he was content enough if the gains
of the year counterbalanced the expenses; and as
but a slight degree of toil was required to effect this
happy object, it was commonly rendered, and without
repugnance, on the part of his slaves. His
great consolation, and he was always pronouncing
it to himself and to us, was, “that his hands were
the greatest set of scoundrels in the world,”—
which, if unutterable laziness be scoundrelism, was
true. He was pretty generally beloved by them;
which, I suppose, was because he was so good-natured;
though many used to tell me they loved
him because he was their “right-born master,”—
that is, put over them by birth, and not by purchase;
for he lived upon the land occupied by his
fathers before him, and his slaves were the descendants
of those who had served them.
The reader, who has seen with what horror and
fear I began the life of a slave, may ask if, after I
found myself restored to health and strength, I
sought no opportunity to give my master the slip,
and make a bold push for freedom. I did not; a
change had come over the spirit of my dream: I
found myself, for the first time in my life, content,
or very nearly so, with my condition, free from
in love with my lot, so far from being dissatisfied,
that I had not the least desire to exchange it
for another.
Methinks I see the reader throw up his hands at
this, crying, “What! content with slavery!” I assure
him, now I ponder the matter over, that I am
as much surprised as himself, and that I consider
my being content with a state of bondage a very
singular and unaccountable circumstance. Nevertheless,
such was the fact. I was no longer Sheppard
Lee, Zachariah Longstraw, nor anybody else,
except simply Tom, Thomas, or Tommy, the slave.
I forgot that I once had been a freeman, or, to speak
more strictly, I did not remember it, the act of remembering
involving an effort of mind which it
did not comport with my new habits of laziness and
indifference to make, though perhaps I might have
done so, had I chosen. I had ceased to remember
all my previous states of existence. I could not have
been an African had I troubled myself with thoughts
of any thing but the present.
Perhaps this defect of memory will account for
my being satisfied with my new condition. I had
no recollection of the sweets of liberty to compare
and contrast with the disgusts of servitude. Perhaps
my mind was stupified—sunk beneath the ordinary
level of the human understanding, and therefore
incapable of realizing the evils of my condition.
Or, perhaps, after all, considering the circumstances
and nature, such evils did not in reality exist.
The reader may settle the difficulty for himself,
which he can do when he has read a little more of
my history. In the meanwhile, the fact is true: I
was satisfied with my lot—I was satisfied even with
myself. The first time I looked at my new face I
was shocked at what I considered its ugliness.
But having peeped at it a dozen times or more, my
ideas began to alter, and, by-and-by, I thought it
quite beautiful. I used to look at myself in aunt
Phœbe's glass by the hour, and I well remember
the satisfaction with which I listened to the following
rebuke of my vanity from her, namely, “All you
pritty young niggurs with handsome faces is good
for nothin, not wuth so much as you cawn!” In
short, I was something of a coxcomb; and nothing
could equal the pride and happiness of my heart,
when, of a Sabbath morning, dressed in one of my
master's old coats well brushed up, a bran-new
rabbit-fur hat, the gift of little Tommy, a ruffled
shirt, and a white neckcloth, with a pair of leather
gloves swinging in one hand, and a peeled beechen
wand by way of cane in the other, I went stalking
over the fields to church in the little village, near to
which my master resided.
I say again, I cannot account for my being so
contented with bondage. It may be, however, that
there is nothing necessarily adverse to happiness
in slavery itself, unaccompanied by other evils; and
that when the slave is ground by no oppression and
moralize upon his condition, nor to seek for those
torments of sentiment which imagination associates
with the idea of slavery in the abstract.
Of one thing, at least, I can be very certain. I
never had so easy and idle a time of it in my whole
life. My little master Tommy had grown very
fond of me. It is strange anybody should be fond
of a slave; but it is true. It appears I was what
they call a mere field-hand, that is, a labourer, and
quite unfit for domestic service. Nevertheless, to
please Tommy, I was taken from the tobacco-fields,
and, without being appointed to any peculiar duty
about the house, was allowed to do what I pleased,
provided I made myself sufficiently agreeable to
young master. So I made him tops, kites, wind-mills,
corn-stalk fiddles, and little shingle ships with
paper sails, gave him a trot every now and then on
my back, and had, in return, a due share of his oranges
and gingerbread.
In this way my time passed along more agreeably
than I can describe. My little master, it is
true, used to fall into a passion and thump me
now and then; but that I held to be prime fun;
particularly as,—provided I chose to blubber a little,
and pretend to be hurt,—the little rogue would relent,
and give me all the goodies he could beg,
borrow, or steal, to “make up with me,” as he
called it.
Little Tommy and his sisters, four in number,
were the children of my master by a second wife,
the young lady of whom I have already spoken, and
she was, I believe, not above seventeen. Her
name was Isabella, and she was uncommonly handsome.
A young gentleman of the neighbourhood,
named Andrews, was paying court to her. Indeed,
she had a great many admirers, and there was much
company came to see her.
My master's oldest son, the only child left by
his first wife, lived on a plantation beyond the
creek, being already married, and having children.
His name was George, like his father, and the
slaves used to distinguish them as “Massa Cunnel
Jodge,” and “Massa Maja Jodge;” for all the gentlemen
in those parts were either colonels or majors.
The major's seat being at so short a distance, and
the plantation he cultivated a part of the colonel's
great estate of Ridgewood Hill, we used to regard
him as belonging still to our master's family, and
the slaves on both plantations considered themselves
as forming but a single community. Nevertheless,
we of the south side had a sort of contempt
for those of the north; for “Massa Maja,” though a
good master, was by no means so easy as his father.
He exacted more work; and when he rode
into the fields on our side, as he often did, he used
to swear at us for lazy loons, and declare he would,
some day or other turn over a new leaf with us.
6. CHAPTER VI.
Recollections of slavery.
I must again repeat what I have said, namely,
that I was contented with my servile condition, and
that I was so far from looking back with regret to
my past life of freedom, that I ceased at last to remember
it altogether. I was troubled with no
sense of degradation, afflicted with no consciousness
of oppression; and instead of looking upon
my master as a tyrant who had robbed me of my
rights, I regarded him as a great and powerful
friend, whose protection and kindness I was bound
to requite with a loyal affection, and with so much
of the labour of my hands as was necessary to my
own subsistence. What would have been my feelings
had my master been really a cruel and tyrannical
man, I will not pretend to say; but doubtless
they would have been the opposite of those I have
confessed.
The above remarks apply equally to my fellow-bondmen,
of whom there were, young and old, and
men and women together, more than a hundred
on the two estates. The exact number I never
knew; but I remember there were above twenty
able-bodied men, or “full hands,” as they were called,
when all were mustered together. There were
great grumblers; but that was their nature: such
a thing as serious discontent was, I am persuaded,
entirely unknown. The labours of the plantation
were light, the indulgences granted frequent and
many. There was scarce a slave on the estate
who, if he laboured at all, did not labour more for
himself than his master; for all had their little lots
or gardens, the produce of which was entirely their
own, and which they were free to sell to whomsoever
they listed. And hard merchants they were
sometimes, even to my master, when he would buy
of them, as he often did. I remember one day
seeing old aunt Phœbe, to whom he had sent to
buy some chickens, fall into a passion and refuse
to let the messenger have any, because her master
had forgotten to send the money. “Go tell old
Massa Jodge,” said she, with great ire, “I no old
fool to be cheated out of my money; and I don't
vally his promise to pay not dat!”—snapping her
fingers—“he owe me two ninepence already!”
And the old gentleman was compelled to send her
the cash before she complied with his wishes.
The truth is, my master was, in some respects,
a greater slave than his bondmen; and all the tyranny
I ever witnessed on the estate was exercised
by them, and at his expense; for there was a general
conspiracy on the part of all to cheat him, as
far as was practicable, out of their services, while
they were, all the time, great sticklers for their
own rights and privileges. He was, as I have said
was abused a thousand times a day.
There existed no substantial causes for dissatisfaction;
and there was therefore the best reason for
content. Singing and dancing were more practised
than hard work. In a word, my master's slaves
were an idle, worthless set, but as happy as the day
was long. I may say the same of myself; I certainly
was a very merry and joyous personage, and
my companions, who envied me for being the favourite
of young master, used to call me Giggling
Tom.
But there is an end to the mirth of the slave, as
well as the joy of the master. A cloud at last
came betwixt me and the sun; a new thought
awoke in my bosom, bringing with it a revolution
of feeling, which extended to the breasts of all my
companions. It was but a small cause to produce
such great effects; but an ounce of gunpowder
may be made to blow up an army, and a drop of
venom from the lip of a dog may cause the destruction
of a whole herd.
7. CHAPTER VII.
A scene on the banks of the Potomac, with the humours of an African
improvisatore.
Beneath the bluff, and at the mouth of the
creek which divided the two plantations, was a
wharf or landing, where our fishing-boats (for we
had a good fishery hard by) used to discharge their
cargoes, and where, also, small shallops, coming
with supplies to the plantation, put out their freight.
Here, one day, some seven or eight of the hands
were engaged removing a cargo of timber, which
had just been discharged by a small vessel; my
master having bought it for the express purpose of
repairing the negro-houses, and building a new one
for a fellow that was to be married; for it seems,
his crops of corn and tobacco had turned out unusually
well, and when that happened the slaves
were the first who received the benefit.
Hither I strolled, having nothing better to do, to
take a position on the side of the bluff, where I
could both bask in the sunshine, which was very
agreeable (for it was now the end of October,
though fine weather), and overlook the hands working—which
was still more agreeable; for I had uncommon
satisfaction to look at others labouring
while I myself was doing nothing.
Having selected a place to my liking, I lay down
intermitted their labour to abuse me, crying,
“Cuss' lazy nigga, gigglin' Tom dah! why you no
come down work?” having employed themselves
at which for a time, they resumed their labours;
and I, turning over on my back and taking a twig
that grew nigh betwixt my teeth, began to think to
myself what an agreeable thing it was to be a slave
and have nothing to do.
By-and-by, hearing a great chattering and laughing
among the men below, I looked down and beheld
one of them diverting himself with a ludicrous
sport, frequently practised by slaves to whom the
lash is unknown. He was frisking and dodging
about pretty much as aunt Phœbe had done when
endeavouring to show me how the whip was handled
in Mississippi; and, like her, he rubbed his
back, now here, now there, now with the right,
now with the left hand; now ducking to the earth,
now jumping into the air, as though some lusty
overseer were plying him, whip in hand, with all
his might. The wonder of the thing was, however,
that Governor (for that was the fellow's name) had
in his hand a pamphlet, or sheet of printed paper,
the contents of which he was endeavouring both to
convey to his companions and to illustrate by those
ridiculous antics. The contents of the paper were
varied, for varied also was the representation.
“Dah you go, nigga!” he cried, leaping as if
from a blow; “slap on'e leg, hit right on'e shin!
yah, yah, yah—chah, chah, ch-ch-ch-ch-ah! chah,
he whip a nigga!” Then pausing a moment and
turning a leaf of the book, he fell to leaping again,
crying—“What dat? dat you, Rose? what you
been doin? stealin' sugah?
Hab a hard massa!
So much you git for stealin' sugah!
So much for lickin' lassa!
“Dem hard massa, licky de gals!
what 'e debbil's de use ob floggin' like fia-ah!”
Then came another scene. “Yah, yah, yah!—
what dat? Massa Maja kickin' de pawson! I say,
whaw Pawson Jim? you Jim pawson, he-ah you
git'em!” And then another—“Lorra-gorry, what
he-ah? He-ah a nigga tied up in a gum—
'Coony in de hollow:
Two white men whip a nigga,
How de nigga holla!
“Jump, nigga, jump! yah, yah, yah! did you ebber
see de debbil? jump, nigga, jump! two white
men whip a nigga? gib a nigga fay-ah play!
Lorra-gorr! he licky, licky!
“Gib a nigga fay-ah play!”
And so he went on, describing and acting what
he affected to read, to the infinite delight of his
companions, who, ceasing their work, crowded
observed, no one got a good look at without jumping
back immediately, rubbing his sides, and
launching into other antics, in rivalry with Governor.
8. CHAPTER VIII.
The Author descends among the slaves, and suddenly becomes a
man of figure, and an interpreter of new doctrines.
I wasmoved with curiosity to know what they
had laid their hands on, and I descended the bank
to solve the mystery. The paper had passed from
the hands of Governor to those of a fellow named
Jim, or Parson Jim, as we usually called him; for
he was fond of praying and preaching, which he
had been allowed to do until detected in a piece
of roguery a few weeks before by Master Major,
who, besides putting a check on his clerical propensities
for the future, saluted him with two or
three kicks well laid on, on the spot. It was to
this personage and his punishment that Governor
alluded, when he cried, “What he-ah? Massa
Maja kickin' de pawson!” as mentioned above.
Although a great rogue, he was a prime favourite
among the negroes, who had a great respect for his
learning; for he could read print, and was even
thought to have some idea of writing. This fellow
was employed, on the present occasion, at the
do the work of others, he had been sitting apart
singing a psalm, while the others were loading his
cart; and apart he had remained, until a call was
made upon him to explain so much of the paper,
being the printed portion, as Governor could not.
The paper, it is here proper to observe, had been
found by Governor among the boards and scantling;
though how it got there no one knew, nor was it
ever discovered. It was a pamphlet, or magazine,
I know not which (and the name I have unfortunately
forgotten), containing, besides a deal of
strange matter about slavery, some half a dozen or
more wood-cuts, representing negroes in chains,
under the lash, exposed in the market for sale, and
I know not what other situations; and it was these
which had afforded the delighted Governor so much
matter for mimicry and merriment. There was
one cut on the first page, serving as a frontispiece;
it represented a negro kneeling in chains,
and raising his fettered hands in beseeching to a
white man, who was lashing him with a whip.
Beneath it was a legend, which being, or being
deemed, explanatory of the picture, and at the same
time the initial sentence of the book, Parson Jim
was essaying to read: and thus it was he proceeded:—
“T-h-e, the—dat's de; f-a-t-e, fat—de fat; o-f,
ob—de fat ob; t-h-e, de—de fat ob de; s-l-a-v-e,
slave—de fat ob de slave. My gorry, what's dat?
Brederen, I can't say as how I misprehends dat.”
“Yah, yah, yah!” roared Governor; “plain as
de nose on you face. De fat ob de slave—what
he mean, heh? Why, gorry, you dumb nigga, he
mean—massa, dah, is whippin de fat out ob de
nigger! Dem hard massa dat-ah, heh? Whip de
fat out!
Don't sell Gubbe'nor down a Mississippi!”
“Let me read it,” said I.
“You read, you nigga! whar you larn to read?”
cried my friends. It was a question I could not
well answer; for, as I said before, the memory of
my past existence had quite faded from my mind:
nevertheless, I had a feeling in me as if I could
read; and taking the book from the parson, I succeeded
in deciphering the legend—“The Fate of
the Slave.”
“Whaw dat?” said Governor; “de chain and
de cowhide? Does de book say dat's de luck for
nigga? Don't b'leeb 'm; dem lie: Massa Cunnel
nebber lick a nigga in 'm life!”
The reading of that little sentence seemed, I
know not why, to have cast a sudden damper on
the spirits of all present. Until that moment, there
had been much shouting, laughing, and mimicking
of the pains of men undergoing flagellation. Every
picture had been examined, commented on, and
illustrated with glee; it associated only the idea
of some idle vagabond or other winning his deserts.
A new face, a new interpretation was given to the
matter by the words I had read. The chain and
an individual; they were to be regarded as the
doom of the race. The laughing and mimicry
ceased, and I beheld around me nothing but blank
faces. It was manifest, however, that the feeling
was rather indignation than anxiety; and that my
friends looked upon the ominous words as a libel
upon their masters and themselves.
“What for book say dat?” cried Governor, who,
from being the merriest, had now become the angriest
of all; “who ebber hear of chain a nigga,
escept nigga runaway, or nigga gwyin' down gin'
will to Mississippi? Who ebber hear of lash a
nigga, escept nigga sassbox, nigga thief, nigga
drunk, nigga break hoss' leg?”
“Brudders,” said Parson Jim, “this here is a
thing what is 'portant to hear on; for, blessed be
Gorra-matty, there is white men what writes books
what is friends of the Vaginnee niggur.”
“All cuss' bobbolitionist!” said Governor, with
sovereign contempt—“don't b'leeb in 'm. Who
says chain nigga in Vaginnee? who says cowhide
nigga in Vaginnee? De fate ob de slave! Cuss'
lie! An't I slave, hah? Who chains Gubbe'nor?
who licks Gubbe'nor? Little book big lie!”
And “little book big lie!” echoed all, in extreme
wrath. The parson took things more coolly. He
rolled his eyes, hitched up his collar, stroked his
chin, and suggesting the propriety of reading a
little farther, proposed that “brudder Tom, who
had an uncommon good hidear of that ar sort of
lamented that “it was a sort of print he could not
well get along with without his spectacles.”
9. CHAPTER IX.
What it was the negroes had discovered among the scantling.
Thus called upon, I made a second essay, and
succeeded, though not without pain, in deciphering
enough of the text to give me a notion of the object
for which the tract had been written. It was entitled
“An Address to the Owners of Slaves,” and
could not, therefore, be classed among those “incendiary
publications” which certain over-zealous
philanthropists are accused of sending among slaves
themselves, to inflame them into insurrection and
murder. No such imputation could be cast upon
the writer. His object was of a more humane and
Christian character; it was to convince the master
he was a robber and villain, and, by this pleasing
mode of argument, induce him to liberate his bond-men.
The only ill consequence that might be produced
was, that the book might, provided it fell
into their hands, convince the bondmen of the same
thing; but that was a result for which the writer
was not responsible—he addressed himself only to
the master. It began with the following pithy questions
and answers—or something very like them—
for I cannot pretend to recollect them to the letter.
“Why scourgest thou this man? and why dost
thou hold him in bonds? Is he a murderer? a
house-burner? a ravisher? a blasphemer? a thief?
No. What then is the crime for which thou art
punishing him so bitterly? He is a negro, and my
slave.”
Then followed a demand “how he became, and
by what right the master claimed him as a slave;”
to which the master replied, “By right of purchase,”
exhibiting, at the same time, a bill of sale.
At this the querist expressed great indignation, and
calling the master a robber, cheat, and usurper,
bade him show, as the only title a Christian would
sanction, “a bill of sale signed by the negro's Maker!”
who alone had the right to dispose of man's
liberty; and he concluded the paragraph by averring,
“that the claim was fraudulent; that the slave
was unjustly, treacherously, unrighteously held in
bonds; and that he was, or of right should be, as
free as the master himself.”
Here I paused for breath; my companions looked
at me with eyes staring out of their heads. Astonishment,
suspicion, and fear were depicted in
their countenances. A new idea had entered their
brains. All opened their mouths, but Governor was
the only one who could speak, and he stuttered and
stammered in his eagerness so much that I could
scarcely understand him.
“Wh-wh-wh-wh-what dat!” he cried; “hab a
right to fr-fr-fr-freedom, 'case Gorra-matty no s-s-s-sell
me? Why den, wh-wh-wh-who's slave? Gorra-matty
Jim, wh-wh-wh-what you say dat doctrine?”
The parson was dumb-founded. The difficulty
was solved by an old negro, who rolled his quid of
tobacco and his eyes together, and said,
“Whaw de debbil's de difference? Massa
Cunnel no buy us; we born him slave, ebbery
nigga he-ah!”
Unluckily, the very next paragraph was opened
by the quotation from the Declaration of Independence,
that “all men were born free and equal,”
which was asserted to be true of all men, negroes
as well as others; from which it followed that the
master's claim to the slave born in thraldom was as
fraudulent as in the case of one obtained by purchase.
“Whaw dat?” said Governor; “Decoration of
Independence say dat? Gen'ral Jodge Washington,
him make dat; and Gen'ral Tommie Jefferson,
him put hand to it! `All men born free and equal.'
A nigga is a man! who says no to dat? How
come Massa Cunnel to be massa den?”
That question had never before been asked on
Ridgewood Hill. But all now asked it, and all, for
the first time in their lives, began to think of their
master as a foe and usurper. The strangely-expressed
idea in the pamphlet, namely—that none
but their Maker could rightfully sell them to bondage,
and that other in relation to natural freedom
and equality, had captivated their imaginations, and
made an impression on their minds not readily to
and angry expressions were uttered; and I
know not where the excitement that was fast awaking
would have ended, had not our master himself
suddenly made his appearance descending the bluff.
For the first time in their lives, the slaves beheld
his approach with terror; and all, darting upon the
timber, began to labour with a zeal and bustling
eagerness which they had never shown before.
But, first, the pamphlet was snatched out of my
hands, and concealed in a hollow of the bank.
Our uncommon industry (for even Parson Jim and
myself were seized with a fit of zeal, and gave our
labour with the rest) somewhat surprised the venerable
old man. But as the timber was destined to
contribute to our own comforts, he attributed it to
a selfish motive, and chiding us good-humouredly
and with a laugh, said, “That's the way with you,
you rogues; you can work well enough when it is
for yourselves.”
“Dat's all de tanks we gits!” muttered Governor,
hard by. “Wonder if we ha'n't a better
right to work than Massa Jodge to make us?”
10. CHAPTER X.
The effect of the pamphlet on its reader and hearers.
We had seen the last day of content on Ridgewood
Hill. That little scrap of paper, thrown
among us perhaps by accident, or, as I have sometimes
thought, dropped by the fiend of darkness
himself, had conjured up a thousand of his imps,
who, one after another, took up their dwelling in
our breasts, until their name was Legion. My
fellow-slaves cared little now for singing and dancing.
Their only desire, in the intervals of labour,
was to assemble together below the bluff, and dive
deeper into the mysteries of the pamphlet; and as I
was the only one who could explain them, and was
ready enough to do so, I often neglected my little
friend Tommy to preside over their convocations.
Nor were these meetings confined to the original
finders of the precious document. The news
had been whispered from man to man, and the sensation
spread over the whole estate, so that those
who lived with the major were as eager to escape
from their labours and listen to the new revelation
as ourselves. Nay, so great was the curiosity
among them, that many who could not come when
I was present to expound the secrets of the book,
would betake themselves to the bluff, to indulge a
from the pictures. And by-and-by, the news having
spread to a distance, we had visiters also from
the gangs of other plantations.
It was perhaps a week or more before the composition
was read through and understood by us
all; and in that time it had wrought a revolution
in our feelings as surprising as it was fearful. And
now, lest the reader should doubt that the great effects
I am about to record should have really arisen
from so slight a cause as a little book, I think it
proper to tell him more fully than I have done what
that little book contained.
It was, as I have said, an address to the owners of
slaves, and its object purported to be to awaken their
minds to the cruelty, injustice, and wickedness of
slavery. This was sought to be effected, in the first
place, by numerous cuts, representing all the cruelties
and indignities that negro slaves had suffered,
or could suffer, either in reality, or in the imaginations
of the philanthropists. Some of these were
horrible, many shocking, and all disgusting; and
some of them, I think, were copied out of Fox's
Book of Martyrs, though of that I am not certain.
The moral turpitude and illegality of the institution
were shown, or attempted to be shown, now by
arguments that were handled like daggers and
broad-axes, and now by savage denunciations of
the enslaver and oppressor, who were proved to be
murderers, blasphemers, tyrants, devils, and I know
not what beside. The vengeance of Heaven was
of the retribution that would sooner or later
fall upon them, these being borne out by monitory
allusions to the servile wars of Rome, Syria, Egypt,
Sicily, St. Domingo, &c. &c. It was threatened
that Heaven would repeat the plagues of Egypt in
America, to punish the task-masters of the Ethiopian,
as it had punished those of the Israelite, and
that, in addition, the horrors of Hayti would be
enacted a second time, and within our own borders.
It was contended that the negro was, in organic
and mental structure, the white man's equal, if not
his superior, and that there was a peculiar injustice
in subjecting to bondage his race, which had been
(or so the writer averred), in the earlier days of the
world, the sole possessors of knowledge and civilization;
and there were many triumphant references
to Hannibal, Queen Sheba, Cleopatra, and the
Pharaohs, all of whom were proved to have been
woolly-headed, and as bright in spirit as they were
black in visage. In short, the book was full of
strange things, and, among others, of insurrection
and murder; though it is but charitable to suppose
that the writer did not know it.
There was scarce a word in it that did not contribute
to increase the evil spirit which its first
paragraph had excited among my companions. It
taught them to look on themselves as the victims
of avarice, the play-things of cruelty, the foot-balls
of oppression, the most injured people in the world:
and the original greatness of their race, which was
and its reviving grandeur in the liberated Hayti,
convinced them they possessed the power to redress
their wrongs, and raise themselves into a
mighty nation.
With the sense of injury came a thirst for revenge.
My companions began to talk of violence
and dream of blood. A week before there was not
one of them who would not have risked his life to
save his master's; the scene was now changed—
my master walked daily, though without knowing
it, among volcanoes; all looked upon him askant,
and muttered curses as he passed. A kinder-hearted
man and easier master never lived; and it
may seem incredible that he should be hated without
any real cause. Imaginary causes are, however,
always the most efficacious in exciting jealousy
and hatred, In affairs of the affections, slaves
and the members of political factions are equally
unreasonable. The only difference in the effect is,
that the one cannot, while the other can, and does,
change his masters when his whim changes.
That fatal book infected my own spirit as deeply
as it did those of the others, and made me as sour
and discontented as they. I began to have sentimental
notions about liberty and equality, the dignity
of man, the nobleness of freedom, and so-forth;
and a stupid ambition, a vague notion that I was
born to be a king or president, or some such great
personage, filled my imagination, and made me a
willing listener to, and sharer in, the schemes of
soon began to frame. It is wonderful, that among
the many thoughts that now crowded my brain, no
memory of my original condition arose to teach me
the folly of my desires. But, and I repeat it again,
the past was dead with me; I lived only for the
present.
A little incident that soon befell me will show the
reader how completely my feelings were identified
with my condition, and how deeply the lessons of
that unlucky pamphlet had sunk into my spirit.
My little playmate, master Tommy, who was not
above six years old, being of an irascible temper,
sometimes quarrelled with me; on which occasions,
as I mentioned before, he used to beat me;
a liberty I rather encouraged than otherwise, since
I gained by it—though my master strictly forbade
the youth to take it. Now, as soon as my head began
to fill with the direful and magnificent conceptions
of a malecontent and conspirator, I waxed
weary of child's play and master Tommy, who,
falling into a passion with me for that reason, proceeded,
on a certain occasion, to pommel my ribs
with a fist about equal in weight to the paw of a
gadfly. I was incensed, I may say enraged, at the
poor child, and repaid the violence by shaking him
almost to death. Indeed, I felt for a while as if I
could have killed him; and I know not whether I
might not have done it (for the devil had on the
sudden got into my spirit), had not his father discovered
what I was doing, and run to his assistance.
and thus escaped a drubbing, of which I was at
first in danger. The threat of this, however, sank
deeply into my mind, and I ever after felt a deep
hatred of both father and son. This may well be
called a blind malice, for neither had given me any
real cause for it.
11. CHAPTER XI.
The hatching of a conspiracy.
In the meanwhile the devil was doing his work
among the others, and disaffection grew into wrath
and fury, that were not so perfectly concealed but
that my master, or rather his eldest son, who was
of a more observant disposition, began to suspect
that mischief was brewing; and in a short time it
was reported among us that our master had marked
some of us as being dangerous, and was resolved
to sell us to a Mississippi trader who was then in
the county. This was reported by a spy, a house-servant,
who professed to have overheard the conversation,
and who reported, besides, that our master
and his son were furbishing up their fire-arms,
and laying in terrible supply of balls and powder.
Now whether this account was true or not I
never knew, and I suppose I never shall until I am
in my grave. It was enough, however, to drive us
as the intended victims of the Mississippi trader;
and the more especially, as those men had
wives and children, from whom they were told they
were to be parted. One of these was the blacksmith
of the estate, who, being a resolute and fierce-tempered
fellow, instantly began to convert all the
old horseshoes and iron hoops about his shop into
a kind of blades or spear-heads, which we fastened
upon poles, and hid away in secret places.
There were among us three or four men who had
muskets, with which they used to shoot wild fowl
on the river, there being great abundance at this
season. These weapons were also put into requisition;
besides which we stored away butcher-knives
and bludgeons, old scythe-blades and sickles
beaten straight, until we could boast quite an armory.
And here I may observe, that the faster
these weapons increased upon our hands, the more
deadly became our resolutions, the more fierce and
malignant our desires; until, having at last what
we thought a sufficiency for our purpose, we gave
a loose to our passions, and determined upon a plan
of proceedings that may well be called infernal.
I believe that when we began to collect these
offensive weapons we had but vague ideas of mischief,
thinking rather of defending ourselves from
some meditated outrage on the part of our master,
than of beginning an assault upon him ourselves.
But now, the armory being complete, and several
cunning fellows, who had been spying out among
the gangs (so they sometimes call the whole number
of hands on a farm) of most of them were ready
to strike with us for freedom; another having
brought us word that a great outbreaking had already
taken place south of James river, which,
however, was not true; a third reminding us that
we were more numerous than our masters; and a
fourth bidding us remember that the negroes had
once, as the little book told us, been the masters of
all the white men in the world, and might be again;
I say, these things being represented to us, as we
were handling our arms and thinking what execution
we could do with them, we shook hands together,
and kissing the little pamphlet (for which
we had conceived a high regard), as we had seen
white men kiss the book in courts of law, we swore
we would exterminate all the white men in Virginia,
beginning with our master and his family.
12. CHAPTER XII.
How the spoils of victory were intended to be divided.
The chief men in the conspiracy were, by all
consent, the fellow called Governor, of whom I have
said so much before; Parson Jim, who, although
a little in the background at first, had soon taken
a foremost stand, and was, indeed, the first to propose
active or fiery in the matter, but because I had become
prominent as the reader of the little book;
Cesar, the blacksmith; and a fellow named Zip,
or Scipio, who was the chief fiddler and banjo-player,
and had been therefore in great favour with
the family, until he lost it by some misconduct.
The parson having uttered the diabolical proposal
I mentioned before, and seeing it well received,
got up to make a speech to inflame our courage.
There was in his oration a good deal of preaching,
with a considerable sprinkling of scraps from the
Bible, such as he had picked up in the course of
his clerical career. What he chiefly harped on was
that greatness of the negro nation spoken of before,
and he discoursed so energetically of the great
kings and generals, “the great Faroes and Cannibals,”
as he called them, who had distinguished the
race in olden time, that all became ambitious to
figure with similar dignity in story.
“What you speak faw, pawson?” said Governor,
interrupting him, and looking round with the air of
a lord; “I be king, hah? and hab my sarvants to
wait on me!”
“What you say dah, Gub'nor?” cried Zip the
fiddler, with equal spirit: “You be king, I be president.”
“I be emp'ror, like dat ah nigga in High-ty!”
said another.
“I be constable!” cried a fourth.
“You be cuss'! you no go for de best man!”
and I lick any nigga I like! Who say me no, hah?
I smash him brain out—dem nigga!” Governor
was a tyrant already, and all began to be more or
less afraid of him. “I'll be de great man, and I
shall hab my choice ob de women: what you say
dat? I sall hab Missa Isabella faw my wife! Who
say me no dah?”
“Berry well!” cried Scipio: “I hab Missa
Edie”—that is, Miss Edith, the next in age, who
was, however, not yet thirteen, and therefore but a
poor little child.
“Brudder Zip,” said Jim the parson, “I speak
fust dah! The labourer is wordy ob his hiah—I
shall put my hand to de plough, and I shall hab
Missa Edie for my wife. Arter me, if you please,
brudder Zip!”
“Hold you jaw, Zip,” said King Governor to
the fiddler, who was ready to knock the parson
down. “You shall hab Massa Maja's wife, and
you shall cut his head off fust. As faw de oder
niggas he-ah, what faw use ob quar'lin? We shall
have wifes enough when we kills white massas;
gorry! we shall hab pick!”
And thus my companions apportioned among
themselves, in prospective, the wives and daughters
of their intended victims; and thus, doubtless,
they would have apportioned them in reality, had
the bloody enterprise been allowed the success its
projectors anticipated. I remember that my blood
suddenly froze within my veins when the conspiracy
those innocent, helpless maidens made the prey of
brutal murderers, was so shocking to my spirit that
I lost speech, and could scarce support myself on
my feet.
While I stood thus confused among them, the
conspirators determined upon a plan of action by
which, as far as I understood it, the houses of my
master and his son, the two being previously murdered,
were to be set on fire at the same moment,
on the following night, and at the sight of the
flames the slaves on several neighbouring plantations
were to fall upon their masters in like manner:
after which, the gangs from all the burnt
estates were to meet at a common rendezvous,
and march in a body against the neighbouring village,
the sacking of which they joyously looked
forward to as the first step in a career of conquest
and triumph—in other words, of murder and rapine.
Who would have thought that a little book, framed
by a philanthropist, for the humane purpose of
turning his neighbour from the error of his way,
should have lighted a torch in his dwelling only to
be quenched by blood! I am myself a witness that
the pamphlet was not one of those incendiary publications
of which so much is said, as being designed
for the eyes of slaves themselves, to exasperate
them to revolt. By no means; it was addressed
to the master, and of course was only designed for
him. Why the pictures were put in it, however, I
cannot imagine, since it may be supposed the master
the writer well enough without them. Perhaps
they were intended to divert his children.
The book, however, whatever may have been
the object for which it was written, had the effect
to make a hundred men, who were previously contented
with their lot in life, and perhaps as happy
as any other men ordained to a life of labour, the
victims of dissatisfaction and range, the enemies of
those they had once loved, and, in fine, the contrivers
and authors of their own destruction.
13. CHAPTER XIII.
The attack of the insurgents upon the mansion at Ridgewood Hill.
I said, that when the conspiracy reached the
crisis mentioned before, I was suddenly seized with
terror. I began to think with what kindness I had
been treated by those I had leagued to destroy;
and the baseness and ingratitude of the whole design
struck me with such force, that I was two or
three times on the point of going to my master,
and revealing it to him while he had yet the power
to escape. But my fears of him and of my
fellow-ruffians deterred me. I thought he looked
fierce and stern; and as for my companions, I conceited
that they were watching me, dogging my every
step, prepared to kill me the moment I attempted
rudeness to Master Tommy had caused me to be
banished the house; for although my master did
not beat me, he was persuaded my violence in that
case was not altogether jocose, and therefore punished
me by sending me to the fields. Hence I
had no opportunity to see him in private, unless I
had sought it, which would have exposed me to observation.
The night came, and it came to me bringing
such gloom and horror, that my agitation was observed
by Governor and others, who railed at me
for a coward, and threatened to take my life if I
did not behave more like a man. This only increased
my alarm; and, truly, my disorder of mind
became so great, that I was in a species of stupid
distraction when the moment for action arrived;
for which reason I retain but a confused recollection
of the first events, and cannot therefore give a
clear relation of them.
I remember that there was some confusion produced
by an unexpected act on the part of our master,
who, it was generally supposed, designed crossing
the creek to visit the major, having ordered
his carriage and the ferry-boat to be got ready, and it
was resolved to kill him while crossing the creek
on his return; after which we were to fire a volley
of guns, as a signal to the major's gang, and then
assault and burn our master's dwelling. Instead of
departing, however, when the night came, he remained
at home, shut up with the overseer and
was reported that they had barred up the doors and
windows, and were sitting at a table covered with
loaded pistols; thus making it manifest that they
suspected our intentions, and were resolved to defend
themselves to the last.
For my part, I have never believed that our master
suspected his danger at all; he perceived, indeed,
that an ill spirit had got among his people,
but neither he nor any of his family really believed
that mischief was intended. Had they done so,
he would undoubtedly have procured assistance,
or at least removed his children. The windows
were barred indeed, and perhaps earlier than usual,
which may have been accidental; and as for the
fire-arms on the table, I believe they were only
fowling-pieces, which my master, Mr. Andrews,
and the overseer, who was a great fowler, and
therefore much favoured by my master, who was
a veteran sportsman, were getting ready to shoot
wild ducks with in the morning.
My companions, however, were persuaded that
our victims were on their guard; and the hour
drawing nigh at which they had appointed to strike
the first blow, and give the signal to the neighbouring
gangs, they were at a loss, not knowing
what to do; for they were afraid to attack the
house while three resolute men, armed with pistols,
stood ready to receive them. In this conjuncture
it was proposed by Governor, who, from
having been a fellow notorious for nothing save
devil incarnate, he was so bold, cunning, and eager
for blood, to fire the pile of timber where it stood
near the quarters, or negro-huts; the burning of
which would serve the double purpose of drawing
our intended victims from the house, and giving
the signal to the neighbouring estates.
The proposal was instantly adopted, and in a
few moments the pile of dry resinous wood was in
a flame, burning with prodigious violence, and
casting a bright light over the whole mansion, the
lawn, and even the neighbouring river. At the
same moment, and just as we were about to raise
the treacherous alarm, we heard a sudden firing of
guns and shouting beyond the creek at the major's
house, which made us suppose the negroes there
had anticipated us in the rising.
Emulous not to be outdone, our own party now
set up a horrid alarm of “Fire!” accompanied
with screams and yells that might have roused the
dead, and ran to the mansion door, as if to demand
assistance of their master.
Never shall I forget the scene that ensued. I
stood rooted to the ground, not twenty steps from
the house, when the door was thrown open, and
my master rushed out, followed by Andrews and
the overseer. They had scarce put foot on the
porch before six or seven guns, being all that the
conspirators could muster, and which the owners
held in readiness, were discharged at them, and
then they were set upon by others with the spears,
objects were plainly distinguishable; yet so violent
was the rush of assailants, so wild the tumult, so
brief the contest, that I can scarce say I really witnessed
the particulars of the tragedy. I beheld,
indeed, my master's gray hairs, for he was of towering
stature, floating an instant over the heads of the
assailants; but the next moment they had vanished;
and I saw but a single white man struggling
in the hall against a mass of foes, and crying out to
Miss Isabella by name, “to escape with the children.”
Vain counsel, vain sacrifice of safety to
humanity; the faithful overseer (for it was he who
made this heroic effort to save his master's children,
his master and young Andrews lying dead
or mortally wounded on the porch) was cut down
on the spot, and the shrieks of the children as they
fled, some into the open air by a back door, and
others to the upper chambers, and the savage yells
of triumph with which they were pursued, told
how vainly he had devoted himself to save them.
14. CHAPTER XIV.
The tragical occurrences that followed.
While I stood thus observing the horrors I had
been instrumental in provoking, as incapable of
putting a stop to as of assisting in them, I saw two
sister, Lucy, a girl of seven or eight years, running
wildly over the lawn, several of my ruffian companions
pursuing them. The girl was snatched
up by old aunt Phæbe, who, with other women,
had come among us, wringing her hands, and beseeching
us not to kill their young misses, and was
thus saved. As for the boy, he caught sight of me,
and sprang into my arms, entreating me “not to let
them kill him, and he would never hurt me again
in all his life, and would give me all his money.”
Poor child! I would have defended him at that
moment with my life, for my heart bled for what
had already been done; but he was snatched out
of my hands, and I saw no more of him. I heard
afterward, however, that he was not hurt, having
been saved by the women, who had protected in
like manner his two little sisters, Jane and Lucy.
As for the others, that is, Isabella and Edith, I witnessed
their fate with my own eyes; and it was
the suddenness and horror of it that, by unmanning
me entirely, prevented my giving aid to the boy
when he was torn from my arms.
The fire had by this time spread from the timber
to an adjacent cabin, and a light equal to that of
noon, though red as blood itself, was shed over the
whole mansion, on the roof of which was a little
cupola, or observatory, open to the weather, where
was room for five or six persons to sit together, and
enjoy the prospect of the river and surrounding
hills; and on either side of this cupola was a platform,
space for as many more.
The observatory being strongly illuminated by
the flames, and my eyes being turned thitherward
by a furious yell which was suddenly set up around
me, I beheld my master's daughter Isabella rush
into it,—that is, into the observatory,—from the
staircase below, hotly pursued, as was evident from
what followed. She bore in her arms, or rather
dragged after her, for the child was in a swoon, her
sister Edith, who was but small of stature and
light; and as she reached this forlorn place of refuge,
she threw down the trapdoor that covered its
entrance, and endeavoured to keep it down with
her foot. There was something inexpressibly fearful
in her appearance, independent of the dreadfulness
of her situation, separated only by a narrow
plank from ruffians maddened by rage and carnage,
from whom death itself was a boon too merciful to
be expected, and from whom she was to guard not
only herself, but the feeble, unconscious being
hanging on her neck. Her hair was all dishevelled,
her dress torn and disordered, and her face as
white as snow; yet there was a wild energy and
fierceness breathing from every feature, and she
looked like a lioness defending to the last her
young from the hunters, from whom she yet knows
there is no escape.
The trapdoor shook under her foot, and was at
last thrown violently up; and up, with screams of
triumph, darted the infuriated Governor, followed
prey had fled: without uttering a word or scream,
she sprang from the cupola to the platform at its
side, and then, with a fearlessness only derived from
desperation, and still bearing her insensible sister,
she stepped upon the roof, which was high and
steep, and ran along it to its extremity.
Even the ferocious Governor was for a moment
daunted at the boldness of the act, and afraid to
follow; until the parson—well worthy he of the
name!—set him the example by leaping on the
shingles, and pursuing the unhappy girl to her last
refuge. He approached—he stretched forth his
arm to seize her; but he was not destined to lay
an impure touch on the devoted and heroic creature.
I saw her lay her lips once on those of the
poor Edith—the next instant the frail figure of the
little sister was hurled from her arms, to be dashed
to pieces on the stones below. In another, the
hapless Isabella herself had followed her, having
thrown herself headlong from the height, to escape
by death a fate otherwise inevitable.
Of what followed I have but a faint and disordered
recollection. I remember that the fall of the
two maidens caused loud cries of horror from the
men, and of lamentation from the women; and I
remember, also, that these were renewed almost
immediately after, but mingled with the sound of
fire-arms discharged by a party of foes, and the
voices of white men (among which I distinguished
that of my master's son, the major) calling upon
A party of armed horsemen had in fact ridden
among us, and were now dealing death on all hands
from pistols and sabres. From one of the latter
weapons I myself received a severe cut, and was
at the same time struck down by the hoofs of a horse,
and left insensible.
15. CHAPTER XV.
The results of the insurrection, with a truly strange and fatal catastrophe
that befell the Author.
When I recovered my senses I found myself a
prisoner, bound hand and foot, and lying, with six
or seven of my late companions, in a cart, in which,
groaning with pain, for most of us were wounded,
and anticipating a direful end to our dreams of conquest
and revenge, we were trundled to the village,
and there deposited in the county jail, to repent at
leisure the rashness and enormity of our enterprise.
The power of that little pamphlet, of which I
have said so much, to produce an effect for which
we must charitably suppose it was not intended,
was shown in the numbers of wretches by whom
the prison was crowded; for it had been used to
inflame the passions of the negroes on several different
estates, all of whom had agreed to rise in
insurrection, although, as it providentially happened
the revolt extended to the length of murder only
believe confessed by a slave—on a plantation
adjacent to that of my master's son; who, being
informed of it, and assisted by a party that brought
the news, proceeded to seize the ringleaders in his
own gang, some of whom, attempting to make their
escape, were fired on; and this was the cause of
the volley which we had heard, and supposed was
fired by our fellow-conspirators beyond the creek.
The major then crossed over to his father's estate,
but too late to avert the tragedy which I have related.
His father, his eldest sister, and her lover
were already dead; as for the younger, Edith, she
was taken up alive, but cruelly mangled, and she
expired in a few hours. The faithful and devoted
overseer, I have the happiness to believe, ultimately
escaped with his life; for, although covered with
wounds, and at first reported dead, he revived sufficiently
to make deposition to the facts of the assault
and murder, as far as he was cognizant of
them, and I heard he was expected to recover.
Of those who perished, the father, the children,
and the gallant friend, there was not one who was
not, a fortnight before, respected and beloved by
those who slew them; and at their death-hour they
were as guiltless of wrong, and as deserving of affection
and gratitude, as they ever had been. How,
therefore, they came to be hated, and why they
were killed, I am unable to divine. All that I
know is, that we who loved them read a book which
fell in our way, and from that moment knew them
to glut our fiercest passions.
As for ourselves—my deluded companions, at
least—their fate can be easily imagined. Some
were killed at the scene of murder; among others
the chief leader, Governor, who was shot on the
roof of the house. Parson Jim was wounded on
the same place, and, rolling from the roof, was horribly
crushed by the fall, but lingered in unspeakable
agonies for several days, and then died. Scipio,
the fiddler, was taken alive, tried, condemned, and
executed, with many others whose participation in
the crime left them no hope of mercy.
With these, I was myself put upon trial and
adjudged to death; for although it was made apparent
that I had not lifted my hand against any one,
it was proved that I was more than privy to the
plot—that I had been instrumental in fomenting it;
and the known favour with which I had been treated,
added the double die of ingratitude to my
offence. I was therefore condemned, and bade to
expect no mercy; nor did I expect it; for the fatal
day appointed for the execution having arrived, a
rope was put round my neck, and I was led to the
gibbet.
And now I am about to relate what will greatly
surprise the reader—I was not only found guilty
and condemned—I was hanged! Escape was impossible,
and I perceived it. The anguish of my
mind—for in anguish it may be supposed I looked
forward to my fate—was increased by the consciousness—so
it, as I was driven to the fatal tree, that I was, in
reality, not Tom the slave, but Sheppard Lee the
freeman, and that I possessed a power of evading
the halter, or any other inconvenience, provided
I were allowed but one opportunity to exercise
it. But where was I now to look for a dead
body? It is true, there were bodies enough by-and-by,
when my accomplices were tucked up around
me; but what advantage could I derive from entering
any one of them, since my fate must be
equally certain to be hanged?
My distress, I repeat, was uncommonly great,
and in the midst of it I was executed; which put
an end to the quandary.
16. CHAPTER XVI.
In which it is related what became of the Author after being
hanged.
Here, it would seem, that my history should
find its natural close; but I hope to convince the
world that a man may live to record his own death
and burial. I say burial; for, from all I have
heard, I judge that I was buried as well as hanged,
and that I lay in the earth in a coarse deal coffin,
from two o'clock in the afternoon of a November
day, until nine at night; when certain young doctors
their skill in anatomy, came to the place of execution,
and dug up the three best bodies, of which, as
my good luck would have it, my own was one—
Zip the fiddler's being another, while the third was
that of a young fellow named Sam, notorious for
nothing so much as a great passion he had for
butting with his head against brick walls, or even
stone ones, provided they were smooth enough.
The young anatomists, previous to hacking us,
resolved to try some galvanic experiments on us,
having procured a battery for that purpose; and
they invited a dozen or more respectable gentlemen
to be present, and witness the effects of that
extraordinary fluid, galvanism, on our lifeless bodies.
The first essayed was that of the unfortunate
Scipio, who, being well charged, began, to the admiration
of all present, to raise first one arm, and
then the other, then to twist the fingers of his left
hand in a peculiar way, as if turning a screw, inclining
his head the while towards his left shoulder,
and then to saw the air, sweeping his right hand to
and fro across his breast, with great briskness and
energy, the fingers of his left titillating at the air
all the while, so as to present the lively spectacle
of a man playing the fiddle; and, indeed, it was
judged, so natural was every motion, that had the
party been provided with a fiddle and bow to put
into his hands, they would have played such a jig
as would have set all present dancing.
The next experiment tried was upon the body of
Sam, whose muscles were speedily excited to exercise
themselves in the way to which they had
been most accustomed, though not in one so agreeable
to the chief operator; for, in this case, the
lifeless corse suddenly lifting up its head, bestowed
it, with a jerk of propulsion equal in force to the
but of a battering-ram, full against the stomach of
the operator, whereby he was tumbled head over
heels, and all the breath beaten out of his body.
The reader may suppose, as it was proved to be
the virtue of galvanism to set the dead muscles
doing those acts to which the living ones had been
longest habituated, that I, upon being charged,
could do nothing less than throw myself upon my
hands and knees, and go galloping about the table,
as I had been used to do over the lawn, when master
Tommy was mounted upon my back.
Such, however, was not the fact. The first
thing I did upon feeling the magical fluid penetrate
my nerves, was to open my eyes and snap
them twice or thrice; the second to utter a horrible
groan, which greatly disconcerted the spectators;
and the third to start bolt upright on my feet, and
ask them “what the devil they were after?” In a
word, I was suddenly resuscitated, and to the great
horror of all present, doctors and lookers-on, who,
fetching a yell, that caused me to think I had got
among condemned spirits in purgatory, fled from the
room, exclaiming that I “was the devil, and no niggur!”
What was particularly lamentable, though I
gentleman who had come to the exhibition out of
curiosity, being invited by one of the doctors, was so
overcome with terror, that before he reached the
door of the room he fell down in a fit, and being
neglected by the others, none of whom stopped to
give him help, expired on the spot.
As for me, the cause of all the alarm, I believe I
was ten times more frightened than any of the
spectators, especially when I came to recollect that
I had just been hanged, and that I would, in all
probability, be hanged again, unless I now succeeded
in making my escape. As for the cause of my
resuscitation, and the events that accompanied it, I
was then entirely ignorant of them; and, indeed, I
must confess I learned them afterward out of the
newspapers. I knew, however, that I had been
hanged, and that I had been, by some extraordinary
means or other, brought to life again; and I
perceived that if I did not make my escape without
delay, I should certainly be recaptured by the returning
doctors.
I ran towards the door, and then, for the first
time, beheld that unfortunate spectator who had
fallen dead, as I mentioned before, and lay upon
the floor with his face turned up. I recollected
him on the instant, as being a young gentleman
whom I had once or twice seen at my late master's
house. All that I knew of him was, that his
name was Megrim, that he was reputed to be
very wealthy, and a great genius, or, as some said,
and, doubtless, because he was a genius.
As I looked him in the face, I heard in the distance
the uproar of voices, which had succeeded
the flight of the doctors, suddenly burst out afresh,
with the sound of returning footsteps; and a loud
bully-like voice, which I thought very much like
that of the under-turnkey at the prison—a man
whom I had learned to fear—cried out, “Let me see
your devil; for may I be cussed up hill and down
hill if I ever seed a bigger one than myself.”
Horrible as was the voice, I was not dismayed.
I saw at my feet a city of refuge, into which my
enemies could not pursue me. My escape was
within my own power.
“Master,” said I, touching my head (for I had
no hat) to the corpse, “if it is all the same to you,
I beg you'll let me take possession of your body.”
As I pronounced the words the translation was
effected, and that so rapidly, that just as I drew my
first breath in the body of Mr. Megrim, it was
knocked out of me by the fall of my old one, which
—I not having taken the precaution to stand a little
to one side—fell down like a thunderbolt upon me,
bruising me very considerably about the precordia.
In this state, being half suffocated, and somewhat
frightened, I was picked up and carried away by
my new friends, and put to bed, where, having
swallowed an anodyne, I fell directly sound asleep.
And here, before proceeding farther, I will say,
that the doctors and their friends were greatly surprised
expected to find it as animated as when they left it.
But by-and-by, having reflected that the galvanism,
or artificial life, infused into its nerves had been
naturally exhausted at last, whereupon it as naturally
followed that the body should return to its
lifeless condition, they began to aver that the most
surprising part of the business was, that it had kept
me alive so long, and enabled me, after groaning
and speaking as I had actually done, to walk so far
from the table on which I had been lying.
On the whole, the phenomenon was considered
curious and wonderful; and an account of it having
been drawn up by the doctors, and headed “Extraordinary
Case of the Effects of Galvanism on a
Dead Body,” it was printed for the benefit of scientific
men throughout the world, in a medical journal,
where, I doubt not, it may be found at this day.
| Sheppard Lee | |