University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
A TRIP TO BOSTON.

[Chapters 3-12 (pp. 54-239) omitted.]

ARRANGEMENTS had been made by Mr. Benson to leave for Boston, on the day after the sale: he, his wife, Mr. Hicks, and Mammy Betty, left Major Scott's early in the morning of that day for the depot. Mrs. Scott and the Major had suffered so much in anticipation of that event, that the reality was rather a relief than otherwise. Amelia promised, when she left, to pay them a visit at the end of twelve months; to which Mr. Benson consented conditionally, if trade was slack in the following June. We will follow them to Boston; nothing of importance occurring in their journey, except that an effort was made in Philadelphia to prevail upon Mammy Betty to leave them. Old Mr. Benson's house was on State street, at which they arrived in the afternoon of the fourth day from Virginia. Amelia was received by her father and mother-in-law, not with that warmth of affection with which a Bostonian daughter-in-law would have been received in Virginia, but, with as much kindness and politeness as the old people were capable of manifesting. Mr. Benson, Sr., was prototype of Mr. Benson, Jr. Trade and its incidents, with him, never gave way to any protracted exhibition of kindness or politeness; and, in a few minutes after his first introduction, he was in his counting-room again.

Mrs. Benson the elder was a middle-aged lady, cold and formal in her manners, extremely neat and precise in her dress, the style of which was that which prevailed in New Enyland a hundred years before; she was unquestionably of Pilgrim descent, and, to all appearance, not many generations distant from Pilgrims of the olden time. She and her son conducted Amelia to the parlour, and Mammy Betty, not knowing where else to go, followed them. Mrs. Benson the elder eyed the latter with intense curiosity.

"Robert," she said, "who have you brought here with your bride? I trust you haven't brought a slave along with you, my son?"

"Mother, you know there can be no slaves in Massachusetts; this old woman was a slave in Virginia, but she is now free, and as she is very fond of Amelia, having nursed her, I consented to her coming with us; we should have to hire a servant at any rate for our chamber, and she will answer very well as Amelia's chamber cleaner, at lower wages too than we could possibly get a white one."

"You are so accustomed to black waiters, child, that you don't want to be waited on by white ones, I guess?" addressing herself to Amelia. "Moth—moth—Mrs. Benson," said Amelia, "I have no dislike to white servants, madam, but my old Mammy Betty and myself are so fond of each other that we couldn't bear to be separated."

"Is it possible, child, you call her mammy? That's like the poor people here, who, when they say mammy, mean mother."

"In Virginia, madam, all the children call their black nurses mammy."

"Well, child, it does sound mighty strange; the people here will laugh at you, child, but I guess it won't be long before this old woman you call mammy will take herself off from a person who has so long held her in bondage."

"No, missis," said Mammy Betty, "I'll never leff my 'Melia, madam, while my head hot; ebery body in dis big town, madam, can't 'duce me to leff my 'Melia."

"Well, old woman, if you stay here, you'll have to keep Amelia's room very nice, and bring her water, and in the winter keep her in fire."

"Missis, madam, I kin do all dat, if so be dat de wood ant too far to brung, madam."

"How curious she talks, child; is that the way the slaves in Virginia all talk? You needn't be afraid, old woman, of having too much to do—the wood and water won't be very far off. Amelia, child, I hear the bell ringing for supper; come along with me."

"Whar mus' I go, missis?" said Mammy Betty.

"Why, you don't expect to go with us to supper, I hope we don't eat with blacks in this country."

"Dey don' do so nudder in Fugginny, madam."

"Do you go up those stairs, and turn into the first right hand room, that's Amelia's room, and I will send you some supper. Does she know which is her right hand, child?"

"Oh, yes, madam," answered Amelia.

When supper was over, the old lady carried her daughter-in-law up into the room which had been prepared for her, and which had all the comforts and adornments of a bridal chamber. Mrs. Benson the elder opened a door into a small apartment, and told Mammy Betty that although it had been intended as a closet to Amelia's room, she might occupy it as a bedroom.

Mr. Benson, Sr., and his son repaired to the countingroom when the ladies left the supper-table. "Robert," said the old man, "how did you make out in Virginia; any cash, my son?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I got property which I converted into cash; the old gentleman gave me ten negroes, which I sold for about four thousand dollars."

"Upon my word, Robert, it won't tell well in Boston, that you have been selling slaves in Virginia; but as that was your wife's dowry, and you were not allowed to bring them here, I don't see how you could have done otherwise."

"No, sir; if we come lawfully into possession of what is property in the South, in our hands it must carry along, and be subject to all the incidents of property; and sale and barter, you know, are its incidents."

"I see, Robert, you have brought an old woman with you; what are you going to do with her?"

"I have just told mother of our arrangements in regard to her; she is an old woman much attached to Amelia, and Amelia to her; she will live with us on very moderate wages, and will do all the work of a chamber servant."

"But she is old, and can't be useful many years; what will you do with her when she is past work?"

"My father-in-law, Major Scott, will take her back at any time; and at some future period, when she seems to be failing, Amelia and I can take her back to Virginia, and leave her there. Well, father, how has trade gone in my absence?"

"It has been as brisk as it usually is in the summer season; there's every promise of a good fall business."

"Any shaking, father, within the last month?"

"Yes, the firm of Coots & Co. like to have gone; we are clear of that concern, however; I saw the danger ahead, and prepared for it. Benson & Son are off their paper, but I think they will recover from the shock and keep up."

Their conversation about trade and its incidents was kept up until a late hour. Mrs. Benson saw but little of her husband during the day; her mother-in-law was not very agreeable to her, and she was perhaps less so to the old lady; consequently, she spent most of her time in her own room, where she enjoyed the company of her mammy more than she would have done even that of her husband. In the afternoon of the third day after their arrival in Boston, old mammy Betty came suddenly into the chamber and threw herself on the floor, frightened almost into a state of insensibility, exclaiming, "Oh, my 'Melia, my 'Melia, I don' see jus' now in de street one crazy man, an' if you b'leve me, he jump at me jus' like he gwine seize me."

"Well, mammy, don't be frightened; he can't hurt you now."

"Oh, my 'Melia, he's great big nigger man, he hardly got any clothes on, an' when I fus' see him he was bent almos' double, coughin."

"Mammy, I don't reckon he's mad, it's some poor old beggar; he didn't intend to hurt you."

"Yes, he did, 'Melia; if he had cotched me he'd a tare my very life out o' me."

The old woman had to go into the street every afternoon for water; the next time she went she came back, if possible more frightened than before; she hastily put down her pitcher, and wringing her hands, cried, "Oh,

my 'Melia, I don see dat mad man 'gin; he follow me to de do', and jus' miss ketchin' me by my frock; he now at de do' if you b'leve me."

"Well, I will hoist the window, and see what he wants."

She hoisted the front window, and saw a black man standing before the door, half bent, and coughing. He had a few rags around him.

"What do you want here, my man?"

"Missis, I seed one ole black 'oman go in at dis do', an' I knows her, madam. Please, missis, ax her to come down here; I wan' talk wid her. I wouldn' hut her, missis, for anything in de worl'; I loves her too much, missis, to hut 'er. Ax her please come down."

After a great deal of persuasion, she consented to go, provided her 'Melia would hoist the window again, and look out while she was talking with him.

As soon as she reached the door, the man threw his arms round her neck, burst into tears, and said, "Mammy Betty, don' you know Tom?"

"My goodness!" said she; "is dis my masser boy Tom? Oh! Tom, I's so glad to see you."

"Mam Betty, how you lef' my poo' mammy an' daddy? Mam Betty, I ain' bin see any peace sence I lef' my masser house. Oh, Mam Betty, if I was but back dar 'gin, how happy I would be! I mos' gone in 'sumption, Mam Betty; I bin 'blige to sleep out 'pon de ground, and I shill neber git shut of dis cole I bin cotch. Tell me, Mam Betty, what brung you to dis place?"

"Tom, you daddy an' mammy was bofe well; and dey was moughty sorry when you lef'. I com' here, Tom, wid my 'Melia, who dun marry one man in dis very house, Tom."

"Was dat my Miss 'Melia dat hice de winder?"

"Yes, Tom; she dun gone from dare, now."

"Oh! Mam Betty! Mam Betty! what shill I do? I does wan' go back so much to Fugginny, to see my daddy an' my mammy, my masser and my missis, an' all de black folks. Oh! Mam Betty, ax my young missis to sen' her pa word I's here, an' dat I does wan' so much to go back to he plantation. Oh! Mam Betty, if I could but lay dis poo' achin' head 'pon my mammy bres, how happy I should be! Poo' Tom gwine neber see he daddy an' he mammy 'gin. Oh! Mam Betty! Mam Betty! Mam Betty! what is I to do?"

"Tom, you does 'stress me mightly; I wishes I could do somethid' fur you. I'll ax my 'Melia to git you som' clothes, Tom."

"Mam Betty, I almost starve', an' mos' naked, but I don' wan' anything to eat or to war. All I now want in dis worl' is to go back home, and die 'pon my mammy bres."

"Tom, what becom' o' Harry?"

"Harry dun ded, Mam Betty. When we fus' com' here, we gits som' wuck 'pon de street; an' Harry an' one white man begin to quarrel, an' de white man say, 'If ebery master had he due, you wou'dn' be here now,' meaning dat Harry was one runaway; and Harry, thinkin' he was free, strike de white man, and he tak' up one bar o' iron an' hit Harry 'pon de head, an' kill him, Mammy Betty."

"Tom, does dey let white man kill niggers, here?"

"Dey try him fur it, Mam Betty, but t'other white mens swar Harry was gwine kill him; an' dey let him off.

Dese very folks who tell Tom he was runaway, if my masser was to come here fur me to-morrow, would swar dey know'd I was born free."

Tom was too much distressed by his cough to say more. Mammy Betty told him he must meet her at the door the next afternoon about the same time. She returned to the chamber, told Mrs. Benson who he was, and what had passed between them. Mrs. Benson said she would write to her pa after supper.

At the supper table, Mrs. Benson the elder said to her child, "What is the matter with the old woman? I met her running up stairs very much alarmed, as I thought."

"She saw in the street, madam, a negro man, and supposed he was crazy; but she afterwards found out, that he was a man who had run away from my pa, some months ago. Poor fellow, he is in a mighty bad way, and wants to get pa to come for him; and I'm going to write to pa this night, and ask him to come."

"Amelia," said Mr. Benson, Sr., "I shouldn't like that any owner of a runaway slave should be informed by any member of my family where he might find and recover him; and I had rather you wouldn't write."

"He belongs to pa, sir, and don't you think pa ought to have him?"

"By no means; your father had no right to hold him in bondage; and as he has escaped, it would be cruel to give information where he was."

"My Mammy Betty says he's mighty low in consumption; he can't work, and I think it would be more cruel to let him stay here and starve to death, than for my pa to come after him, and take care of him until he dies; at

my pa's house, he would be with his father and mother, too."

"But if he gets well, child," said Mrs. Benson the elder, "after your father got him back, he would make him work as a slave again, and that would never do."

"He's never going to work any more, from what my Mammy Betty tells me." Saying this, she left the table, and returned to her room.

"Mammy, these people say I mustn't write to pa about Tom; but I will write, no matter what they say."

Mr. Benson, Jr., was in the habit of writing letters on business after he retired to his chamber at night, and Mrs. Benson found pen, ink, and paper at hand. She wrote a letter to her father, from which we extract that portion which relates to Tom.

"My good old Mammy Betty saw your man Tom in the street, and he begged her to ask me to write and request that you would come for him. Please, pa, come."

The next morning the old woman carried the letter to the post-office; and when she returned from the office, she said to Mrs. Benson:

"My 'Melia, I does wish poo' Tom had one blanket, som' baker bread, an' som' tea, an' som' sugar."

"I wish he had, my dear mammy; but I haven't one cent of money."

"Oh, I hab plenty, my 'Melia; Mas' George an' my Julia giv' me heap when we did com' 'way."

She paraded the foot of an old yarn stocking, and with much delight exhibited two dollars and fifty cents; she put it carefully back in the stocking, which she wrapped in a piece of newspaper, and went out upon a shopping

expedition, in which angels might have participated. In about an hour she returned, and the display of her purchases gave her 'Melia and herself more heartfelt satisfaction than is experienced by the votaries of fashion, after lavish expenditure upon jewelry, silks, and velvet. She had only fifty cents left, which was put away carefully in her box; that day she spent in restless anxiety for the hour of meeting with Tom to arrive. In the afternoon she told Mrs. Benson she would go into the kitchen and make Tom some tea, and put it into a bottle for him to carry to his home; where that was, she had not yet learned from Tom. When she was about pouring the boiling water into the tea-pot, Mrs. Benson the elder came in, and said, "What in the world are you about, old woman?"

"I dun buy som' tea, madam, for dat poo' half-starved cretur, Tom, my masser black man who run away from masser. Nobody in dis town seem to take any pity 'pon him, and I mus' do what I kin for him, 'cause he bin my feller sarvant in ole Fugginny, an' I knows he mammy an' he daddy, madam."

"If he's so poor and so sick and half starved, as you say he is, the town authorities had better send him to the almshouse."

"Does dey sen' black folks to dat sort o' house, madam?"

"Yes, everybody that's sick and poor and naked."

"I's sure, den, madam, dey ought to bin sen' Tom dar, long time ago."

"Your masser, as you call him, hadn't ought to have held him in bondage; you see what's come of it, old woman."

"Madam, if Tom had stay where he was, dis thing never wou'd bin com' 'pon him; he'd bin well now, madam, an' look mighty diff'rent from what de poo' cretur look now."

When her tea was ready, she carried it up into her chamber, put it into a bottle, and carried the bread, tea, and blanket to the door, where she found Tom waiting for her.

"Well, Tom, how you do to-day, my chil'?"

"Mam Betty, I gwine mighty fas'. I does feel poorlier to-day den I bin feel yit; and de misry in my bres' is more den I can 'scribe."

"Tom, here's som' good tea, and som' good baker bread, and one good blanket for you, chil', an' I hopes you'll feel better, 'fore to-morrow."

"Mam Betty, I doesn' thinks I shill eber feel better in dis worl'."

"Tom, does you eber pray to de Lord to pardon you' sins? does you eber think of leavin' dis worl', and whar you goin' to when you die?"

"Mam Betty, I does try heap to 'member what I bin hear Mr. Grattan say in my masser house, an' what I bin hear Uncle Robin say in he cabin, over at Dr. Boswell; but, Mam Betty, I's bin so sinful, I fears de Lord ain' gwine pardon me."

"Tom, did you neber hear Uncle Robin say dat de blood of Jesus Christ can 'stroy the biggest sins, dat you mus' pray to him to take he blood an' wash you wid it?"

"Yes, Mam Betty, I bin hear 'im say so, an' I try o' nights to pray; but den I begin to think 'pon my daddy an' my mammy, an' den I doos forgit all 'bout prayin'."

"Well, now, Tom, dat de very thing dat ought to make you pray dat the Lord will let you meet you daddy an' mammy in Hebbin."

"Mam Betty, does you thinks I bin sin when I run away an' lef' my masser?"

"Yes, dat I does, Tom; de Lord say servants mus' 'bey der masters; an' in de room of 'beyin' you masser, Tom, you bin runaway from him; and besides, Tom, de Lord giv' you good sitiation, an' you lef' it, an' brung all dis 'pun you. Don' you call dat sinnin', Tom?"

"Oh! Mam Betty! Mam Betty! I is so sorry for what I bin do! Does you thinks de Lord will pardon me, Mam Betty?"

"Yes, Tom, if you pray to him to take dat sin, an' all you oder sins, an' wash 'em wid de blood of he son. Where 'bouts does you stay o' nights, Tom?"

"One hos'ler, Mam Betty, giv' me leave to sleep 'pun de hay in he stable-loff; an' I is gittin' so weak, Mam Betty, I's feard dat I can't git here 'gin. I wan' show you whar de stable is; an', if I don' com' back here tomorrow evenin', you mus' com' an' see me."

She went with him to the next cross street, and he pointed out the stable in which he lodged; when they parted, she said, "Tom, I gwine hav' som' mo' tea ready fur you to-morrow evenin', an' you mus' com' if you kin; an' 'member, Tom, what I bin talk to you 'bout."

"I'll try, Mammy Betty; an' I mighty thankful to you, seein' you is de only frien' I got in dis worl'."

Tom came the three following afternoons, and received his tea and bread, but Mammy Betty discovered at every visit that he was getting weaker, and his cough more troublesome.

On the fourth afternoon he was not at the door; she concluded that he was worse, and determined to go to the stable. When she got there, she inquired of the hostler if that was the stable in which a sick negro man slept; and being informed that it was, she requested to be permitted to go up and see him; he pointed to a ladder, which she ascended; although it was early in the afternoon, it was quite dark in the loft; in a low voice she said "Tom!" no answer being returned, she was much alarmed; she repeated, "Tom!"

"Is dat Mam Betty?"

"Yes, Tom, 'tis me."

"Oh, Mam Betty, I is so glad to see you. I is too weak to go up an' down dat ladder, an' I couldn't go to see you. Cum here an tak' hold o' my han', Mam Betty."

She followed the direction of his voice, and took hold of his hand; it was hot and wet with clammy perspiration.

"Tom, I brung you som' tea an' bread."

"Oh, Mam Betty, how good you is to po' Tom; but I can't eat anything, now. Mam Betty, when you call me I was 'sleep, and dream I seed my daddy an' my mammy; an' I thought mammy say, 'What make you go'way from us, Tom?' an' I say, 'Mammy, I bin mighty sorry eber sence I leff you;' and den she say, 'You dun com' back, Tom, an' say you mighty sorry, an' now I tak' you to my arms, an' I is so glad to see my poo' boy, 'gin'."

"Tom, dat's jest de way wid you Farder in Hebben if you tell Him you sorry, and dun com' back to Him, He'll tak' you in He arms an' say He so glad to see you com' back 'gin, jest like you mammy in dat dream."

"Mam Betty, I bin pray heap sence I see you, an' I

hope de Lord dun wash my sins in dat blood you tell me 'bout. Mam Betty, is Miss 'Melia bin hear from her pa, yit? Oh, Mam Betty, all I want now is to git back an' die in my daddy an' mammy house. I's 'fraid poo' Tom gwine die here pun dis bay; an' when you gone, no frien' here wid 'im. Oh, Mam Betty, if my daddy an' mammy was jus' but here to close dese eyes, I could die in peace. Oh, Tom, Tom, what mak' you do so? to lef you daddy and mammy, and com' here to die in dis lof'."

The old woman had told Mrs. Benson that she was afraid Tom was worse, from his not meeting her at the door; and said if she found him very low, she should like to stay with him all night. Mrs. Benson with great reluctance consented, and throwing her arms round her neck, gave her a kiss at parting. As soon as she felt the cold clammy sweat of death upon his hand, Mammy Betty had determined to stay with him; she sat by him the whole night, and talked much to him about his God and Saviour; about midnight he seemed inclined to sleep; a still, solemn darkness reigned in that loft until the dawn of day. The old woman became alarmed—she took his hand—it was cold in death. There he lay, a corpse, with his blanket around him, a monument to Northern philanthropy, entwined in the drapery of Southern barbarity. We will direct the hand of Mammy Betty while she sketches an inscription in her own language. "Poo' Tom! dey didn't treat you as dey promise to do; if you had bin know you own good, you wouldn't bin here now." It is hoped that the hostler, for his own comfort's sake, informed the town authorities that there was a dead body in that loft, and that it was decently disposed of.

Mammy Betty restrained the violence of her grief until she arrived at home. As soon as she entered the chamber, she threw herself into a chair, and in a flood of tears, exclaimed, "My 'Melia, my 'Melia, poo' Tom dun dead." Mrs. Benson, not ordinarily very sensitive, appeared to sympathize deeply with her mammy at the death of Tom.

In a few days after that event she received a letter from her father, from which we extract that portion which was responsive to Tom's application.

"My dear Amelia:

"I received this morning your letter requesting me to come for poor Tom, which I must decline doing for several reasons: in the first place, I know it is highly probable that the people of your town would not suffer me to bring him back to Virginia; in the next, my neighbours would be up in arms against my keeping a negro who had run away to a free state, and been recovered; and after the trouble and vexation attending his recovery (if it was effected), I should be obliged to sell him to a trader. I am truly sorry to hear of his nakedness and cough; enclosed are twenty dollars, with which you must get him clothing, and whatever is necessary to make him comfortable."

"Mammy Betty," said Mrs. Benson, "now that Tom is dead, you must have back your two dollars out of this note, and I will send the balance back to pa."

"My dear 'Melia, when I did buy dem things for Tom, I neber 'spect anybody was gwine pay me back de money. I ain gwine take it, 'Melia, dat I aint."

"My dear mammy, pa's got plenty of money, and you have but a very little left; and you must take it."

"No, dat I won't, my 'Melia; you s'pose I gwine take pay for de little I gin poo' Tom? Neber, no neber; poo' Tom dead now, an' de poo' feller welcome to what I bin giv' 'im."

"Well, Mammy Betty, you can do as you please; but if pa knew that you had spent two dollars for Tom, and that I had not paid you back, he would not like it, I know."

"He ant 'bliged to know anything 'bout it; jest sen' back he money, and say nothin' to anybody 'bout what I bin do for poo' Tom."

"Old woman," said Mrs. Benson the elder, as she unexpectedly entered the chamber, "I have just heard that you were out all night a few nights ago; and I am come to let you know that we don't suffer our servants to be out prowling about the streets at night."

"Missis, madam, I ain' bin prowlin' 'bout de street; I did stay out, madam, all night, but I stay in one hay-loft wid a poo' dyin' feller sarvant, madam. I's sure I wouldn't lef my 'Melia, an' my own bed, for sich a place as dat, but dat I thought 'twas my duty, madam, to be wid him when he fetch he last bref."

"I don't see why it was your duty to be there with him, when there are so many other people in this town who might attend to the sick."

"Yes, missis, der's plenty oders mought bin tend to him, madam, in dis town, but from der lettin' Tom go 'bout as he did, an' die whar he did, dey can't be willin' to do much for black folks here, madam."

"There are plenty of houses here in town, old woman, where they would have taken him in, if he had applied."

"Missis, if I had bin knowd dat, I'd a ax you to take

him in, some o' dem ebenins when he was standin' here at the do', madam."

"We are not fixed, old woman, for taking in such people. I wouldn't have a dirty negro man to be staying in my kitchen for any consideration. I'm sure I shouldn't be able to eat a meal while such as he remained there."

"Madam, I reckon dar's heap o' tothers in dis town, ain't fixed for takin'in sich a poo' naked cretur' as he wus."

"Well, old woman, there was certainly no necessity for his going off to a stable, and dying there with the brutes. Was there nobody with him when he died, but you?"

"Madam, I hope Tom Lord an' Saviour, who wus born in one stable, wus wid Tom when he die dar."

"I wish from my heart, old woman, there was no such thing as slavery in the world; it is really horrible to think upon the misery it produces."

"Well, missis, I neber seed sich misry as poo' Tom's, tell I com' here, madam, an' if all de folks 'way down home, yonder, wus to set all der niggers free, we'd hab plenty o' Tom misry, madam."