University of Virginia Library

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

no trade in niggurs! I say, you Pawson
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

be forgotten. Black looks passed from one to another,
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?”