Peter’s master prosecuted for abusing him, and fined $500, and put under a bond of $2000 for good behavior—Peter for a long time has a plan for running away, and the girls help him in it—“the big eclipse of 1806”—Peter starts at night to run away, and the girls carry him ten miles on his road—the parting scene—travels all night, and next day sleeps in a hollow log in the woods—accosted by a man on the Skeneateles bridge—sleeps in a barn—is discovered—two pain’ters on the road—discovered and pursued—frightened by a little girl—encounter with “two black gentlemen with a white ring round their necks”—“Ingens” chase him—“Utica quite a thrifty little place”—hires out nine days—Little Falls—hires out on a boat to go to “Snackady”—makes three trips—is discovered by Morehouse ?—the women help him to escape to Albany—hires out on Truesdell’s sloop—meets master in the street—goes to New York—a reward of $100 offered for him—Capt. comes to take him back to his master, for “one hundred dollars don’t grow on every bush”—“feels distressedly”—but Capt. Truesdell promises to protect him, “as long as grass grows and water runs—he follows the river. Author. “Good evening, Peter,—how do you do to-night?”
Peter. “Very well; and how’s the Domine?”
A. “Pretty well. Take a chair and go ahead with your story.”
P. “My mind had been made up for years to git out of my trouble,—but I thought I’d wait till spring afore I started. Things had got to sich a state, I see I must either stay and be killed myself, or kill master, or run away; and I thought ‘twould be the best course to run away; and I wanted good travellin’, and I concluded I’d wait till the movin’ was good. In the meantime, Master prosecuted Abers for assaulting him in his own house, and Abers paid the damages; I don’t know how much; and then Abers prosecuted master afore the same court, for abusin’ me, on behalf of the state. His whole family was brought forward and sworn, and testified agin’ him, and the trial lasted two days. I was brought forward, and had my shirt took off, to show the scars in my meat; and the judge says, ‘Peter, how long did he whip you in the barn?’ And I up and told him the story as straight as I could. Then the lawyers made their pleas on both sides, and the case was submitted to the jury, and out they went, and stayed half an hour, and brought in a verdict of abuse, even unto murder intent. The judge says, ‘how so?’ The foreman on the jury says, ‘because he thrice attempted to kill him with a rifle.’
“Well, his sentence finally was, to pay five hundred dollars damages, or to go to jail till he did; and be put under bonds of two thousand dollars for good behavior in future. The judge gin him half an hour to decide in; and he sot and sot till his time was up; and then the judge told the sheriff to take him to jail, and he went to get the hand-cuffs, and put ’em on to master’s hands; and the judge says, ‘screw ’em tight;’ for you see ‘master hadn’t treated the court with proper respect,’ the judge said. I should think he had the cuffs on ten minutes, and then he says, ‘I’ll pay the money;’ and the sheriff off with the cuffs, and master out with his pocket-book, and counted out the money to the sheriff, and then he gin bail, and so the matter ended.
“The judge come to me and says, ‘now, Peter, do you be faithful, and if you are abused come to me, and I’ll take care of it.
“Well, all went home, and arter that master behaved himself pretty decent towards me, only the gals said he used to say, ‘I wish I’d killed the dam nigger, and then I shouldn’t have this five hundred dollars to pay.’
“My whole fare was now better, ? but I still considered myself a slave, ? and that galled my feelin’s, and I determined I’d be free, or die in the cause; for you see, by this time, I’d larned more of the rights of human natur’, and I felt that I was a man!!
“I had this in contemplation all of three or four years afore I run, and I swore a heap ’bout it tu. The gals had made me a new suit, and had it ready for runnin’ a year afore. The gals paid for it, and kept it secret; and so a woman can keep a secret, arter all; and I had twenty-one dollars, in specie, that I’d been a gettin’ for five years, by little and little, fishin’ and chorin’, and catchin’ muskrats, that I kept from master; and I made ‘Lecta my banker; and every copper and sixpence I got I put into her hand, and now I’d got things ready for a start.
“Well, the big eclipse, as they called it, come on the 16th of June, 1806, I believe, and we had curious times, I tell ye. I was in the lot a hoein’ corn, and it begun to grow dark, right in the day time, and the birds and whip-poor-wills begun to sing, jist as in the evenin’, and the hens run to the roost, and I come to the house; and the folks had smoked-glass lookin’ through at the sun, and I axed ’em ‘what’s the matter?’ and they said ‘the moon is atwixt us and the sun.’
“Well, thinks says I, ‘that’s rale curious.’ Master looked at it once, and then sot down and groaned, and fetched some very heavy sighs, and turned pale, and looked solemn; and there was two or three old Dutch women ‘round there that looked distracted; they hollered and screamed and took on terribly, and thought the world was a comin’ to an end. Well, I didn’t find out the secret of that eclipse, till a sea captain told me, long arter this. I b’lieve this eclipse happened on Tuesday; and next Sunday night, atwixt twelve and one o’clock, I started, and detarmined that if ever I went back to Gideon Morehouse’s, I’d go a dead man.
“We all went to bed as usual, but not to sleep; and so, ’bout twelve ‘clock, I went out as still as I could, and tackled up the old horse and wagon, and oh! how I felt. I was kind’a glad and kind’a sorry, and my heart patted agin my ribs hard, and I sweat till my old shirt was as wet as sock. So I hitched the horse away from the house, and went in and told the gals, and I fetched out my knapsack that had my new clothes in it, and all on us went out and got in and started off. Oh! I tell ye, the horse didn’t creep; and the gals begins to talk to me and say, ‘now, Peter, you must be honest and true, and faithful to every body, and that’s the way you’ll gain friends;’ and ‘Lecta says, ‘if you work for anybody, be careful to please the women folks, and if the women are on your side, you’ll git along well enough.’
“Well, we drove ten miles, and come to a gate, and ‘twouldn’t do for them to go through, and so there we parted; and they told me to die afore I got catched,—and if I did, not to bring ’em out. I told them I’d die five times over afore I’d fetch ’em out; and so ‘Lecta took me by the hand and kissed me on the cheek, and I kissed her on the hand, for I thought her face warn’t no place for me: and then she squeezes my hand, and says, ‘God bless you, Peter;’ and Polly did the same, and there was some cryin’ on both sides. So I helped ’em off, and as we parted, each one gin me a handsome half-dollar, and I kept one on ’em a good many years; and, finally, I gin it to my sweet-heart in Santa Cruz, and I guess she’s got it yit.
“I starts on my journey with a heavy heart, sobbin’ and cryin’, for I begun to cry as soon as I got out of the wagon. I guess I cried all of three hours afore mornin’, and I felt so distressedly ’bout leavin’ the gals I almost wished myself back; but I’d launched out, and I warn’t agoin’ back alive.
“I travelled till daylight, and then, to be undiscovered, I took to the woods, and stayed there all day, and eat the food I took along in the knapsack; and a dreadful thunder-storm come, and I crawled, feet first, into a fell holler old tree, and pulled in my knapsack for a pillar, and had a good sleep; only a part of the time I cried, and when I come out I was very dry, and I lays down and drinks a bellyful of water out of a place made by a crutter’s track, and filled by the rain, and on I went till I come to Skaneatales Bridge; and ’twas now dark, and when I got into the middle, a man comes up and says ‘good evenin’, Peter.’ Well, I stood and says nothin’, only I expected my doom was sealed. He says ‘you needn’t be scart, Peter,’ and come to, it was a black man I’d known, and he takes me into his house in the back room, and gin me a good meal. You see I’d seen him a good many times agoin’ by there with a team. Arter supper his wife gin me a pair of stockins and half a dollar, and he gin me half a loaf of wheat bread, and a hunk of biled bacon, and a silver dollar, and off I started, with a kind of a light heart. I travels all that night till daylight, and grew tired and sleepy; and on the right side of the road I see a barn, and so I goes in and lies down on the hay, and I’d no sooner struck the mow than I fell asleep. When I woke up the sun was up three hours, and some men were goin’ into the field with a team, and that ‘woke me up. I looks for a chance to clear, and I sees a piece of woods off about half a mile, and I gits off; so the barn hid me from ’em, and I lays my course for these woods, and jist by ’em was a large piece of wheat, and I gits in and was so hid I stays there all day; and a part of the time I cried, and sat down, and stood up, and whistled, and all that, and it come night, I started out, and travelled till about midnight, and had a plenty to eat yit.
“Well, the moon shone bright, and I was travellin’ on between two high hills, and the fust thing I hears was the screech of a pain’ter; and if you’d been there, I guess you’d thought the black boy had turned white. Well, on the other hill was an answer to this one; and I travelled on, and every now and then, I heard one holler and t’other answer, but I kept on the move; and when the moon come out from a cloud it struck on the hill, and I see one on ’em, and bim’bye, both on ’em got together, and sich a time I never see atwixt two live things. Their screeches fairly went through me. Not long arter I come up to a house, and bein’ very dry, I turned into the gate to git a drink of water, and I drawed up some, and a big black dog come plungin’ out, and in a minute a light was struck up, and out come a man, and hollered to his dog to ‘git out;’ and he says to me, ‘Good night, Sir; you travel late.’ ‘Yis, Sir.’ ‘What’s the reason?’ And I had a lie all ready, cut and dried. ‘My mother lies at the pint of death in the city of New York, and I’m a hastenin’ down to see her, to git there if I can afore she dies.’ He rather insisted on my comin’ in, but I declined, and bid him a good night, and passed on my way. I left the road for fear this man might think I was a run-away, and so pursue me; and on I went to the woods. I hadn’t got fur afore I hears a horse’s hoofs clatterin’ along the road; and thinks, says I, ‘I’m ahead of you, now, my sweet feller—I’m in the bush.’ And so I put on; and by daylight I thought I was fur enough off, and I could travel a heap faster in the road, so I put for the road; and nothin’ troubled me till ten o’clock. And as I come along to an old loghouse, a little gal come out, and hollers, ‘Run, nigger, run, they’re arter ye; you’re a run-away, I know.’ I tell you it struck me with surprise, to think how she knew I was a run-away. I says nothin’, but she says the same thing agin’; and on I goes till I come to a turn in the road where I was hid, and I patted the sand nicely for a spell I tell ye. When I got along a while, I run into a bunch of white pines; and as I slipped along, I come across one of these ’ere black gentlemen with a white ring round his neck, and he riz up and seemed detarmined to have a battle with me. Well, I closed in with him, and dispersed him quick, with a club; and in about four rods I met another, and I dispersed him in short order; and got out into the road, and travelled till night; and come to a gate, and axed the man if I might stay with him. An Ingen man kept the gate, and a kind of a tavern, tu; and he says, ‘yis;’ and I stayed, and was treated well, and not a question axed. Well, I axed him how fur ’twas to a village, and he says, ‘six miles to Oneida village,’ and says he, ‘what be you, an Ingen, or a nigger?’ I says, ‘I guess I’m a kind of a mix:’ and he put his hand on to my head, and says, ‘well, I guess you’ve got some nigger blood in ye, I guess I shan’t charge you but half price,’ and so off I starts. Well, soon I come to a parcel of blackberry bushes, and out come an Ingen squaw, and says, ‘sago;’ and I answers, ‘sagole,’ that’s a kind of a ‘how de.’ And all along in the bushes was young Ingens, as thick as toads arter a shower, and I was so scart to think what I’d meet next, my hair fairly riz on end; and in a minute, right afore me I see a comin’ about twenty big, trim, strappin’ Ingens, with their rifles, and tomahawks, and scalpin’ knives, and then I wished I was back in master’s old kitchen, for I thought they was arter me; and I put out and run, and a tall Ingen arter me to scare me, and I run my prettiest for about fifty rods, and then I stubbled my toe agin a stone, and fell my length, heels over head. But, I up and started agin, and then the Ingen stopped, and oh! sich a yelp as he gin, and all on ’em answered him, and off he went and left me, and that made me feel better than bein’ in old master’s kitchen.
“I travels on and comes to a tavern, and got some breakfast of fresh salmon, and had a talk with the landlord’s darter, and she was half Ingen, for her father had married an Ingen woman; and while I was there, up come four big Ingens arter whiskey, and they had no money, and so they left a bunch of skins in pawn till they come back. So I paid him thirty-seven and a half cents and come on. The next time I stopped at a cake and beer shop, and I told the old woman sich a pitiful story, that she gin me all I’d bought and a card of gingerbread to boot, and I come on rejoicin’. They was Yankee folks, and, say what you will, the Yankee folks are fine fellers where ever you meet ’em.
“Next place I passed was Utica, which was quite a thrifty little place; but I didn’t stop there; and on a little I got a ride with a teamster down twenty miles, to a place about six miles west of Little Falls, and there I put up with a man, and he hired me to help him work nine days and a half, and gin me a dollar a day, and paid me the silver, and he owned a black boy by the name of Toney. We called him Tone, and they did abuse him bad enough, poor feller! he was all scars from head to foot, and I slept with him, and he showed me where they’d cut him to pieces with a cat-o’-nine-tails. And it did seem, to look at him, as though he must have been cut up into mince meat, almost!! ? !!
“Well, I left him, and got down about two miles on my journey, and there lay a Durham boat, aground in the Mohawk River; and a man aboard hollered to me, to come down, and he axed me if I didn’t want to work my passage down to Snackady. I says, ‘yis, if you’ll pay me for it!!’ You see I felt very independent jist now, for I begun to feel my oats a leetle; and so he agreed to give me twenty shillin’s if I would, and so I agreed tu, and went aboard, and glad enough tu of sich a fat chance of gittin’ along.
“We come to ‘the Falls,’ and they was a great curiosity I tell ye; and we got our boat down ’em, through a canal dug round ’em by five or six locks. Oh! them falls was a fine sight—the water a thunderin’ along all foam. Well, we had good times a goin’ down, and come to Snackady, the man wanted to hire me to go trips with him up and down from Utica, and offered me ten dollars a trip. So we got a load of dry goods and groceries, and goes back for Utica, and gits there Saturday night. The captain of the boat was John Munson, and I made three trips with him, and calculated to have made the fourth, but somethin’ turned up that warn’t so agreeable. I stayed there Sunday, and Sunday evenin’ about seven o’clock, I goes up on the hill with one of the hands, to see some of our colour, and gits back arter a roustin’ time about ten o’clock, and as soon as I enters the house, Mrs. Munson says, ‘why lord-a-massa Peter, your master has been here arter you, and what shall we do?’ And I was so thunderstruck, I didn’t know what to say, or do. And says she, ‘you must make your escape the best way you can.’
“I goes up stairs and gathers up my clothes, and the women folks comes up tu, and while we was there preparin’ my escape, old master and the sheriff comes in below! and he says to Munson, who lay on the bed, ‘I’m a goin’ to sarch your house for my nigger;’ and Munson rises up and says, ‘what the devil do you mean? away with you out of my house. I knows nothin’ about your nigger, nor am I your nigger’s keeper—besides, ‘afore you sarch my house, you’ve got to bring a legal sarch-warrant, and now show it or out of my house, or you’ll catch my trotters into your starn, quick tu.’
“Well, I darn’t listen to hear any thing more, but all a tremblin’, says I to the women, ‘what in the name of distraction shall I do?’
“Mrs. Munson says, ‘I’ll go down and swing round the well-sweep, and you jump on, and down head-foremost.’ I flings out my bundle, and up comes the well-sweep, and I hopped on, and down I went head foremost, jist like a cat, and put out for the river; and I found Mrs. Munson there with my clothes, for she’d took ’em as soon as she could, and put out with ’em for the river. ‘And now Peter,’ says she ‘do you make the best of your way down to Albany, and travel till you git there, and don’t you git catched; and so I off, arter thankin’ Mrs. Munson, and I wanted to thank Mr. Munson tu, for his management, but I couldn’t spend the time, and I moved some tu; and I got down to Albany by one o’clock at night, and there lay a sloop right agin’ the wharf, alongside the old stage tavern; and as I was a wanderin’ along by it, there seemed to be a colored man standin’ on deck, ’bout fifty years old, and his head was most as white as flax, and says he as he hails me, ‘where you travellin’ tu, my son?’ I says, ‘I’m bound for New York,’ and I out with my old lie agin ’bout my mother. You see that lie was like some minister’s sarmints, that goes round the country and preaches the same old sarmint till it’s threadbare—but it sarved my turn. ‘Come aboard my son, and take some refreshments;’ and so I goes down into the cabin, and I feels kind’a guilty, sorry, and hungry, and my feet was sore, for I’d walked bare-foot from Snackady; and if you did but know it, it was a dreadful sandy road, but I wanted no shoes ’bout me that night. Well, pretty soon my meal was ready, and I had a good cup of coffee, and ham, and eggs, and arter that, says he, ‘now lay down in my berth;’ and I laid down, and in two minutes I got fast to sleep, and the first I knew old master had me by the nape of the neck, and called for some one to help him, and he had a big chain, and he begins to bind me and I sings out, ‘murder,’ as loud as I could scream, and the old gentleman comes to the berth, and says, ‘what’s the matter my son?’ and I woke up, and ’twas a dream, and I was so weak I couldn’t hardly speak, and I was cryin’ and my shirt was as wet as a drownded rat; and the old man says, ‘why, what’s the matter, Peter? you’re as white as a sheet? ‘I says, ‘nothin’ only a dream;’ and says he, ‘try to git some sleep my son, nobody shan’t hurt you.’ And so I catches kind’a cat-naps, and then the old man would chase me, and I run into the woods; and three or four men was arter me on white horses, and I run into a muddy slough, and jumped from bog to bog, and slump into my knees in the mud, and I’d worry and worry to git through, and at last I did; and then I had to cross a river to git out of their way, and I swum across it, and it was a pure crystal stream, and I could see gold stones and little fish on the bottom. Well, I got to the bank and sets down, and they couldn’t git to me, and I had a good quiet sleep. Finally, the old man comes to me, and says, ‘come, my son, git up and eat some breakfast. And I up, and the sun was an hour high, and more tu. I washes me, and we had some stewed eels and coffee; and we eat alone, for all the hands and captain was a spendin’ the night among their friends ashore. And the old man begins to question me out whether I warn’t a run-away, and I rother denied it in the first place; and he says, ‘you needn’t be afeard of me. You’re a run-away, and if you’ll tell me your story, I’ll help you.’ So I up and told him my whole story, and he says, ‘I know’d you was a run-away when you come aboard last night, for I was once a slave myself, and now arter breakfast you go with me, and I’ll show you a good safe place to go and be a cook.’
“So we walked along on the dock, and says he, ‘there comes the Samson, Captain John Truesdell, I guess he wants you, for I understood his cook left him in Troy.’
“So the Samson rounded up nigh our’n, and the captain jumps ashore, and says he, ‘boy do you want a berth?’ and I touches my hat, and says, ‘yis, Sir.’ And he says, ‘can you roast, bake, and bile, &c.?’ I says, ‘I guess so.’ ‘Can you reef a line of veal, and cook a tater?’ ‘Yis, Sir, all that.’ ‘Well, you are jist the boy I want; ‘what do you ask a month?’ I says, ‘I don’t know:’ but I’d a gone with him if he hadn’t agin me a skinned sixpence a month. Well, he looks at me, and slaps me on the shoulder, and says he, ‘you look like a square-built clever feller,—I’ll give you eight dollars a month.’
“This colored man looks at me and shakes his head, and holds up all hands, and fingers, and thumbs, and that’s ten you know. So I axed him ten dollars a month. And says he, ‘I’ll give it;’ and my heart jumps up into my mouth. And he claps his hand into his pocket, and took out three dollars, and says he, ‘now go up to the market and git two quarters veal, and six shillin’ loaves of bread, and here’s the market basket.’ Well, I thought it kind’a strange that he should trust me, cause I was a stranger; but I found out arter this, a followin’ the seas, that it was the natur’ of sailors to be trusty. Well, I off to the market, and I goes up State-street and looked across on ‘tother side, and who should I see but Master and the Sheriff, a comin’ down; so I pulls my tarpaulin hat over my eyes, for I’d got all rigged out with a sailor suit on the Mohawk, and I spurs up, and the grass didn’t grow under my feet any nother. I does my business, and hastens back as fast as possible, and got aboard, and the captain made loose, and bore away into the wind, and made all fast; and the sails filled, and down the river we went like a bird. A stiff breeze aft, and I was on deck, for I wanted to see, and the captain comes along and says, ‘boy, you’d better below,’ and down I went. Well, we run under that breeze down to the overslaugh, and got aground, and then my joy was turned into sorrow. The captain says to me, ‘boy, you keep ship while I and the hands go back and git a lighter, or we shan’t git off in a week; and he takes all hands into the jolly boat and starts for the city again. Arter they’d gone I wanders up and down in the ship, and cried, and thought this runnin’ aground was all done a purpose to catch me; and I goes down into the cabin and ties all my clothes up in a snug bundle, and goes into the aft cabin, and opens the larboard window, and made up my mind that if I see any body come that looked suspicious, I’d take to the water.
Well, afore long, I see the jolly boat a comin’ down the river, and every time the oars struck she almost riz out of the water. Three men on a side and the captain sot steerin’ and as she draws nigher and nigher I draws myself into a smaller compass, for I was afeard master was aboard that boat. Well, she comes alongside, but thanks to God no master in that boat.
“The captain comes on deck and says with a smile, ‘Peter, you may git dinner now.[12] So I goes and gits a good dinner, for I understood cookin’ pretty well, and they eats, and I tu, and then I clears off the table, and washes the dishes, and sweeps the cabin, and goes on deck. And sees a lighter comin’ down the river, and she rounded up and come alongside, and we made fast, and up hatches and took out the wheat, and worked till evenin’, and then she swung off; and by mornin’ we’d got all the freight aboard, and we discharged the lighter and highted all sail, and the wind was strong aft, and we lowered sail no more till we landed in New York, and that was the next day at evenin’.
12.  What a cheerful air hangs around the path of liberty! I was once reading this page to a warm-hearted and benevolent Abolitionist, and when I came to this speech of the captain, he burst into tears as he exclaimed, “Oh, what a change in that boy’s existence! It seems to me that such kindness must almost have broken his heart. Oh! a man must have a bad heart not to desire to see every yoke broken, and all the oppressed go free.”
“Well, the second night arter this, the captain come down into the cabin, and says he, ‘Peter I’ve got a story for you.’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I wants to hear it, Sir.’ ‘Well last night there was a small man from Cayuga county, by the name of Gideon Morehouse ? come aboard my sloop, and says, “you’ve got my nigger concealed aboard your ship, and I’ve got authority to sarch your vessel;” and he sarched my vessel and every body and every thing in it, and by good luck you was ashore, or he’d a had you; for you must be the boy by description.’
“Now I was on the poise whether to tell the truth or not; but I was rather constrained to lie; but the captain says, ‘tell me the truth, Peter, for ’twill be better for you in the end; so I up and told him my whole story, as straight as a compass, and long as a string.
“‘Well’ says he, ‘be a good boy, and I’ll take care on you.’ So we stayed in New York a few days, and back to Albany, and started for New York agin and we had fourteen pretty genteel passengers, and the captain says, ‘now Peter be very attentive to ’em and you’ll git a good many presents from ’em.’ ‘So I cleaned their boots and waited on ’em, and when I got to York I carried their baggage round the city, and when I got to the sloop I counted my money, and had six dollars fifty cents, jist for bein’ polite, and it’s jist as easy to be polite as any way.
“Well, the next mornin’ the captain comes to me about daylight, and hollers, ‘up nig, there’s a present for you on deck.’
“So I hops up in great haste and there was stuck on the sign of the vessel, an advertisement, and ‘reward of one hundred dollars, and all charges paid for catchin’ a large bull-eyed Negro, &c.’ The captain reads that to me, and says very seriously, ‘Peter that’s a great reward. You run down in the cabin and git your breakfast, I must have that hundred dollars; for one hundred dollars don’t grow on every bush.’
“Well, I started and went down, a sobbin’ and cryin’ to get breakfast, and calls the captain down to eat, and he sets down and says he, ‘Peter ain’t you agoin’ to set down and eat somethin’? it will be the last breakfast you’ll eat with us.’
“I says with a very heavy heart, ‘no Sir, I wants no breakfast.’ Arter breakfast says he, ‘now clear off the table, and do up all your things nice and scour your brasses, so that when I get another cook he shan’t say you was a dirty feller.’ So I goes and obeys all his orders, and I shed some tears tu, I tell ye; and then I set down and had a regular-built cryin’ spell, and then the captain comes down and says, ‘you done all your work up nicely?’ ‘Yis Sir,’ ‘well, now go and tie up all your clothes.’ So I did, and I cried louder than ever about it, and he says, ‘I guess you han’t got ’em all have ye?’ So he unties my bundle, and takes all on ’em out one by one, and lays ’em in the berth, and I cried so you could hear me to the forecastle; and finally he turns to me a pleasant look and says, ‘Peter put up your clothes; I’ve no idea of takin’ you back, I’ve done this only to try you; and now I tell you on the honor of a man, as long as you stay with me, and be as faithful as you have been, nobody shall take you away from me alive; and then I cries ten times worse than ever, I loved the captain so hard. But a mountain rolled off on me, for I tell you to be took right away in the bloom of liberty, arter I’d toiled so hard to git it, and then have all my hopes crushed in a minute, I tell you for awhile I had mor’n I could waller under. But when I got acquain’ted with the captain, I found him a rale abolitionist, for he’d fight for a black man any time, and ? Oh! how he did hate slavery: ? but then he kind’a loved to run on a body, and then make ’em feel good agin, and he was always a cuttin’ up some sich caper as this; but he was a noble man and I love him yit.
“Now I felt that I was raly free ? although I knew Morehouse was a lurkin’ round arter me: and arter this I called no man master, but I knew how to treat my betters. I now begun to ? feel somethin’ like a man, ? and the dignity of a human bein’ begun to creep over me, and I enjoyed my liberty when I got it, I can tell you. I didn’t go a sneakin’ round, and spirit-broken, as I know every man must, if he’s a slave; but ? I couldn’t help standin’ up straight, arter I knew I was free. ? Oh! what a glorious feelin’ that is! and oh! how I pitied my poor brethren and sisters, that was in chains. I used to set down and think about it, and cry by the hour; and when I git to thinkin’ about it now, I wonder how any good folks, and specially christian people, can hate abolitionists. ? I think it must be owin’ to one of two things; either they don’t know the horrors or miseries of a slave’s life, or they can’t have much feelin’; for the anti-slavery society is the only society I know on, that professes to try to set ’em all free; for you know the colonization folks have give up the idee long ago, that they can do any thing of any amount that way; and so they say they are agoin’ to enlighten Africa. And I can’t for the life on me see how the abolitionists is so persecuted; it’s raly wonderful! ? But I’m glad I can pray to God for the poor and oppressed, if I am a black man; and I think it can’t be a long time afore all the slaves go free—there is so many thousands of christians all prayin’ for it so arnestly; and so many papers printed for the slave, and so many sarmints preached for him, and sich a great struggle agoin’ on for him all over creation. Why all this is God’s movin’s, and nobody can’t stop God’s chariot wheels.” ?
A. “Well, Peter, you’ve come to a stopping place now, and I think we’ll close this book, for I suppose you’ll have some sea stories to tell.”
P. “Yis, Domine. I shall have some long yarns to reel off when I gets my sails spread out on the brine, for I think the rest of my history is no touch to my sailor’s life. But one thing, it won’t be so sorrowful, if ’tis strange; for, if I was rocked on the wave, I had this sweet thought to cheer me, as I lay down on my hammock, ? I’m free; ? and dreams of liberty hung round my midnight pillow, and I was happy, because I was no longer Peter Wheeler in chains.”
Thoughts suggested by the incidents of the First Book.
It may be profitable and interesting to notice some of the principles involved in the foregoing story. The history of Peter Wheeler in Chains, is a rich chapter in the tale of oppression and slavery in America. The horrors and barbarities here recorded, ought not to go forth before the citizens of a free nation, without producing an appropriate and powerful impression, that will give impulse and triumph to the principles of our constitution. A few plain thoughts occur to the reader of this history, which we will notice:—
I. We see the necessary and legitimate influence of irresponsible power, upon its possessor and victims. It is one of the broad principles of the bible, and of our republican government, that it is not safe to place irresponsible power in the hands of a fallible being, under any circumstances; for, in every recorded instance of the world’s history, it has been abused, and produced unmixed misery.
When young Nero assumed the purple of imperial Rome, his heart revolted at the thought of tyranny, and when first asked to sign a criminal’s death-warrant, his hand refused to do its office-work, and he exclaimed, “Would to God I had never learned to write.” And yet, under the influence of irresponsible power, he at last became so transformed, that he illuminated his gardens with the bodies of burning Christians, and danced to the music of a drunken fiddler while Rome was on fire! As man is constituted, he is not equal to a possession of unlimited power, without abusing it. Experience confirms all this, and common sense too. And if the history of every slaveholder in creation could be unfolded, we should see that every hour his character acquired new and worse features. Even if he did not gradually become more hard and tyrannical in his treatment of his slaves, yet it would be seen that his own heart was constantly losing its higher and nobler qualities, and the dark trail of oppression, like the course of the serpent, was leaving its foul and polluted stain upon all it touched. Slavery must call forth malignant and unholy passions in the breast, and their repeated exercise must harden and pollute the heart. It degrades the whole man,—for there is not a faculty or propensity of the being but what is tain’ted by the foul breath of slavery. The reader must have remarked the steady and rapid moral defilement which was going on in Peter’s master, till at last he was plunged into the deepest degradation, which sought his death. Oh! who can conceive of a degradation more complete than that which made its subject exult in the thought of torturing a poor black boy, even unto death! There are noble and generous hearts in the South, who feel, most keenly, the debasing influence of slavery upon the father’s, and the husband’s, and the lover’s heart; and they are weeping, in secret places, because every green thing around the social altar is burned up by this withering blast. The author of this note has heard the lamentations of daughters and wives, whose homes have been made desolate by the foul spirit of tyranny, and their longings and prayers for a brighter day, which shall regenerate the South by emancipating the slave. Oh! how can man become viler than to hunt down the poor fugitive slave, like a blood-hound, when he has cast off his fetters, and is emerging into the light and glory of freedom. The first impulse of a generous or benevolent heart would be joy, to see the poor victim break away from his bondage, and go free, in God’s beautiful world. Let us hear no more of the desire of the South to emancipate their slaves, when every fugitive is tracked by blood-hounds, till he crosses the waters of the St. Lawrence, and finds shelter under the throne of a British Queen. In most instances, slavery will make the master thirst for the blood of the slave who escapes from his chains; and let this fact bespeak its influence on his heart.
II. Opposition to anti-slavery principles, is no new thing under the sun. We should conclude, from the reasoning of some, in these days, that all efforts made to suppress slavery, which elicit the opposition of the South, must be wrong, for, say they, “slavery can be destroyed without any opposition from the slaveholder!”
Monstrous!!! what? the most stupendous structure of selfishness and abominations on earth, be uptorn without opposition or convulsion! As well may you say, that God could have emancipated the Hebrews, without exciting so much opposition from their masters! The truth is, that the doctrine was never broached till these latter days, that freedom could be achieved without a struggle. As well say that our fathers could have achieved the independence of ‘76 without opposition. The experiment was made for twenty years, by colonizationists, to do away with slavery, without opposition, and, accordingly, they were obliged to mould their scheme and plans to suit the South, so as to avoid opposition; and the South succeeded, and gave them a scheme which would transport to a dark, and desolate, and heathen shore, to die of starvation, four or five thousand, while the increase was 700,000, ? to say nothing of the old stock on hand. Good reason why the South should not oppose such a plan. They would display unutterable folly in their opposition.
Slavery is one of the strongholds of hell, and it is not to be torn down without a struggle, any more than satan will surrender any other part of his kingdom without opposition. Peter’s master was enraged at any reproof or interference from others, that came in collision with his tyranny, and so it is now.
III. We see, also, that the slave, in all ages, thinks so badly of slavery, that he is disposed to run away, if he can. This is enough to say about slavery. Men are not disposed to run away from great blessings. And yet we are told, constantly, by the South, that the slaves are contented and happy with their masters. Now, if this is true, it only makes slavery worse; for what kind of a system is that which degrades a man so low, and prostrates all his better and more glorious attributes to such degradation, that the love of liberty is crushed in his soul; that no heaven-directed thought is lifted for the high enjoyments of an intellectual and bright being; that he is stripped of all that he received from Jehovah, which elevates him above the worm that crawls at his feet. Oh! fellow-man beware! if you have succeeded so completely in defacing the lineaments of divinity in the human soul, that all the glorious objects of creation will not draw forth from his bosom a thought or a wish after a brighter abode. If the gay carol of the wild bird, or the fresh breezes of morning which bring it to his ear, or the stars of heaven, as they roll in their orbits, or the bright dashing of the unfettered waters which sweep by, or the playful gambols of the lamb that skips and plays on their banks; or, above all, if the spirit of the Eternal Father, which breathes nobility and greatness into the soul of his children, does not fan the fires of liberty in his bosom; oh! fellow-man, if you have so completely dashed to oblivion and nothingness, an immortal spirit, you have done a deed at which all hell would blush; you have covered the throne of the Eternal in mourning. If this be true, you are worse than you have ever been described.
But, Sir, your whole enginery of death has never accomplished such a total destruction as this. You may have degraded mind, and you have, but oh! thanks to God, you have not made such awful havoc with a deathless spirit as this. No! you have only poured gall into wounded spirits; you have only torn open deeply lacerated bosoms;—you have only plucked the most glorious pearl from man’s diadem; you have only heaped insult upon a son or a daughter of God Almighty, who is redeemed by the blood of the Lamb;—and your stroke or bolt of woe, that unchained the spirit, only open a passage-way for it to the gates of eternal glory. But, you have done enough God knows! You have done enough to heap up fuel for your own damnation; and encircled by those faggots, “you shall burn, and none shall quench them,” through eternal ages, unless you are cleansed by atoning blood.
The truth is yet to be told. The slave is not contented and happy—more, no slave in the universe ever was, or can be contented, till God shall strip him of his divinity which makes him a man. I have conversed with several thousands in bondage, and many who have got free, and never did I hear such a sentiment fall from human lips. It is estimated by facts already in our possession, (viz. the numbers who win their way to freedom, and those who are advertised as run-aways who are caught,) that more than fifty thousand slaves attempt their escape from bondage every year. And yet so anxious are their masters to still bind the chains, that many of them are chased over one thousand miles. What bare-faced hypocrisy in a man, to give money to transport to an inhospitable and barbarous clime, a worn-out slave, and yet to chase his brother one thousand miles to reduce him again to bondage, or to death!!
IV. The low and base meanness of slave-holding. Nothing is accounted meaner than theft and stealing! ? And yet ? every slaveholder is necessarily a constant, and perpetual thief. ? He steals the slave’s body and soul. And if there is one kind of theft which is worse than all others, it is to steal the wages of the poor, three hundred and sixty-five days in the year! It would be accounted very mean in a rich man, to employ a poor day laborer and then follow him to his home at night, after the toils of the day were over, and steal from his pocket the price of his day’s labor, which he had paid to him to buy bread for his children, and such a man would be called a wretch all over the world;—and yet every slaveholder as absolutely steals the slave’s wages every night—for he goes to his dwelling and family, if he have one, pennyless after a day of hard toil. It would be considered the worst kind of meanness to go, and divide, and separate by an impassable distance the members of a poor family; and yet not a slave lives in the South, who has not at some time or other, seen the same barbarous practice in the circle of his own relationship, and love.
It is the necessary and legitimate inference of the master, from the doctrine of the right of property in man, that all the slave possesses or acquires belongs to the one who owns him. Accordingly, Morehouse had a perfect right to the broadcloth coat which Mr. Tucker gave Peter for saving the life of his daughter. The whole difficulty, the grand cause of all the barbarities of slavery, lies in this unfounded and infamous claim of the right to own, as property, the image of the Great Jehovah. Destroy this claim, and slavery must cease forever. Acknowledge it in any instance, or under any circumstances, and the flood-gate is flung wide open to the most tyrannical oppression in an hour. This was illustrated in the case of Dr. Ely, of Philadelphia, who pretended to be “opposed to slavery as much as any body,” and yet who still main’tained that corner-stone principle of tyranny, “that it is right under certain circumstances to hold man as property.” He removed to a slave state, and found that “these circumstances” occurred. He bought a slave, Ambrose, with, (as he declared,) benevolent designs, intending to spend the avails of his unrequited labor, in buying others to emancipate. He was expostulated with by his brethren in the ministry, and out of it, against the sin of his conduct in owning a fellow-man, and making the innocent labor without reward, to free the enslaved. And “the hire of the laborer which he kept back cried to God.” He was told of the danger of owning a man for an hour, by a keen-sighted editor of New York; and this same editor uttered a prophecy which seemed almost like the voice of inspiration, that God would pour contempt upon such an unholy experiment, “of doing evil that good might come.” But still the Doctor passed on, and heeded it not. At length, after that prophecy had been forgotten by all but the friends of the slave, its fulfilment came from the shores of the Mississippi, and God had blasted the Doctor’s unrighteous scheme, and his speculations all failed, and poor Ambrose was sold to pay his master’s debts. ? Then the experiment was fairly, and one would think, satisfactorily made, and the principle was settled forever by God’s providence, that “it is wrong under any circumstances to hold man as property.” We want the slaveholder to give up his unholy, and unfounded claim to the image of God, and when he will practically acknowledge this principle, then he will cease to be a slaveholder.
V. We see, in the light of this story, the debasing, degrading, and withering influence of slavery upon its poor victim. Peter tells the truth, when he says, “no man can hold up his head like a man if he is a slave.” Any person who has been on a southern plantation must confess, that there is a degraded and servile air upon the countenance of all the slaves. A more abject, low, vacant, inhuman look, cannot be seen in the face of a being in the world, than you see when you meet a southern slave. It is not the tame and subdued look of a jaded beast. It is infinitely more painful to behold a slave than such a spectacle. He seems to be a man with the soul of a beast; God’s image does not speak from his dim and lustreless eye, or his lifeless and degraded bearing. You see a human form, but you cannot see the image of his Maker and Father there. The slave loses his self-respect, and all regard for his nature. He is shut out from all the lovely and glorious objects of creation; and a soul which was made to soar upward in an eternal flight towards its Sire, is smothered, and debased, and ruined;—its existence is almost blotted from creation, and when it leaves its abused and lacerated house of mortality, the world does not feel the loss;—the departure is unnoticed, except by a few who loved him in life, and are glad when his pilgrimage is over. The spirit flies, “no marble tells us whither and he is forgotten, and only a few like himself know that he ever existed in a green and beautiful world. But “a soul is a deathless thing,” and that soul shall speak at the last judgment day! It shall tell its tale of blood to an assembled universe, and that universe shall pronounce the doom of its murderer. ? In forecasting the proceedings of the last day, I tremble to think I shall be one of its spectators; not because I shall be tried, for I humbly trust I shall have an advocate there, whose plea the Judge will accept, and whose robe of complete righteousness shall mantle my naked spirit. But the revelations of that solemn tribunal, which millions of enslaved Africans shall unfold, will make the universe turn pale. And I should feel a desire to withdraw behind the throne, till the sentence had been passed upon all buyers, and sellers, and owners, of the image of the Omnipotent Judge, and executed; did I not wish to behold all the scenes of that great day, and mingle my sympathies with all the fortunes of that Throne. For, as I expect to stand among that mighty company, who shall cluster around the Judgment Seat, I do believe, that God’s Book will contain no page so dark with rebellion and crime, as that which records the story of American Slavery! And yet I believe that that Book will embrace the history of the whole creation.
VI. We see the glorious and hallowed influence of freedom upon man:—
No sooner had Peter escaped from chains, than he began to emerge from degradation into the dignity of a human being. He breathed an inspiring and ennobling atmosphere; he felt the greatness and glory of immortal existence steal over him, and his soul, which had been shrouded in darkness, begun to lift itself up from a moral sepulchre, and feel the life-giving energy of a resurrection from despair. It must have been so, for man’s element is freedom, and it cannot live in any other; deprived of its necessary element, it will languish and die.
While I am writing this paragraph, Peter Wheeler comes into my room, and we will hear his own testimony; he says, “Arter I’d got my liberty, I felt as though I was in a new world; although I suffered, for a while, a good deal, with fear of being catched.
“When I look back, and think how much I suffered by bein’ beat, and banged, and whipt, and starved; and then my feelin’s arter I got free, when I held up my head among men, and nobody pinted at me when I went by and said, ‘there goes this man’s nigger, or that man’s nigger;’ why, I can’t describe how I felt for two or three years. I was almost crazy with joy. What I got for work was my own, and if I had a dollar, I would slap my hand on my pocket and say, ‘that’s my own;’ and if I hauled out my turnip, why it ticked for me and not for master, and ’twas mine tu when it ticked. And I bought clothes, and good ones, and my own arnin’s paid for ’em. In fact, I breathed, and thought, and acted, all different, and it was almost like what a person feels when he is changed from darkness into light. Besides, when gentlemen and ladies put a handle to my name, and called me Mr. Wheeler, why, for months I felt odd enough; for you see a slave han’t got no name only ‘nig,’ or ‘cuss,’ or ‘skunk,’ or ‘cuffee,’ or ‘darkey;’ and then, besides, I was treated like a man. And if you show any body any kindness, or attention, or good will, you improve their characters, for you make them respect you, and themselves, and the whole human race a sight more than ever. Why, respect and kindness lifts up any body or thing. Even the beast or dog, if you show ’em a kindness, they never will forgit it, and they’ll strut and show pride in treatin’ on you well; and pity if man is of sich a natur’ that he ain’t as noble as that, then I give it up. Why, arter I come to myself, and I would git up and find all the family as pleasant as could be, and I would go out and look, and see the sun rise, and hear the birds sing, and I felt so joyful that I fairly thought my heart would leap out of my body, and I would turn on my heel and ask myself ‘is this Peter Wheeler, or ain’t it? and if ’tis me, why how changed I be.’ I felt as a body would arter a long sickness, when they first got able to be out, and felt a light mornin’ breeze comin’ on ’em, and a fresh, cool kind of a feelin’ comin’ over ’em; and they would think they never see any thing, or felt any thing afore, for all seemed brighter and more gloriouser than ever; and oh! it does seem to me that no Christian people in the world can help wantin’ to see all free, for Christians love to see all God’s crutters happy.
VII. “I b’lieve that one of the wickedest and most awful things in creation, and the root, and bottom, and heart of all the evil, is prejudice agin’ color.’ ? There is most, or quite as much of this at the North as there is at the South, for I can speak from experience. There is that disgrace upon us, that many people think it’s a disgrace to ’em to have us come into a room where they be, for fear that they will be blacked, or disgraced, or stunk up by us poor off-scourin’ of ‘arth. And if I come into a room with a sarver of tea, coffee, rum, wine, or sich like, they can’t smell any thing; but jist the second I set down on an equal with ’em, as one of the company, they pretend they can smell me. But, worse than this, this same disgrace is cast on our color in the Sanctuary of the Living God. In enemost all the meetin’ houses, you see the ‘nigger pew;’ and when they come to administer the Lord’s Supper, they send us off into some dark pew, in one corner, by ourselves, as though they thought we would disgrace ’em, and stink ’em up, or black ’em, or somethin.’ Why, ’twas only at the last Sacrament in our Church this took place. All communicants was axed to come and partake together, and I come down from the gallery, and as I come into the door, to go and set down among ’em; one of the elders stretched out his arm, with an air of disdain, and beckoned me away to a corner pew, where there was no soul within two or three pews on me, as though he had power to save or cast off. Now think what a struggle I had, when I sot down, to git my mind into a proper state for the solemn business I was agoin to do.
“First, I thought it was hard for me to be so cast off by my brethren in the church, and a feelin’ riz, and I fit agin’ it, and, finally, I thought I could submit to my fate; and I believed God could see me, and hear my cry, and accept my love, as well there as though I sot in the midst on ’em. And it is the strangest thing in the world, too, that Christian people can act so. There must be some of the love of Christianity wantin’ in their hearts, or they could not treat a brother in Christ in that way. As I sot there, I thought, ‘can there be any sich place as a dark-hole, or black pew, or behind the door, or under the fence, in heaven? If there is sich a spirit or policy there, I don’t feel very anxious desire to go there.’ The bible says, ‘God is no respecter of persons.’ ?
“And what is worse than all, this spirit is carried to the graveyard; and for fear that the dead body of a black man shall black up or disgrace the body of a white, they go and dig holes round under the fences, and off in a wet corner, or under the barn, and put all of our colour in ’em; for every one may be an eyewitness if he’ll go to our graveyard and others; for I have lived now goin’ on fourteen years in one place, and any colored person who has been buried at all there, has been buried all along under the fences, and close up to the old barn that stands there. I know God will receive the souls of sich, jist as well as though they was buried in the middle of the yard, but I say this, to let the reader know what a cruel and unholy thing prejudice agin color is, and what it will do to us poor black people.
“Now I know that all this is the reason why the people of our colour don’t rise any faster. The scorn, the disgrace that every body flings on ’em, keeps ’em down, and they are sinkin’, and such treatment is enough to sink the Rocky mountains.
“Now I know from experience, that the better you treat a black man the better he will behave; for his own pride will keep his ambition up, and he’ll try to rise; why if you should treat white folks so they’d grow bad jist as fast. Why, who don’t know that a body will try to git the good will of those who treat ’em well, so as to make ’em respect ’em still more? And it’s jist like climbin’ a ladder; you’ll git up a round any day, but if you keep a knockin’ a man on the head with the club of prejudice, how in the name of common sense can he climb up.
“Now this is most as bad as slavery; ? for slavery keeps the foot on the black man’s neck all the time, and don’t let ’em rise at all; and prejudice keeps a knockin’ on him down as fast as he gits up; and we ought not to go to the South, till we can git the people of the North to treat our color like men and women. A good many people oppose abolitionists, and say, ‘why what will you do with the niggers when they are free? They will become drunken sots and vagabonds like our niggers at the North; why don’t they rise?’ I can answer that question in a hurry! The reason is, because they don’t give us the same chance with white folks; they won’t take us into their schools and colleges, and seminaries, and we don’t be allowed to go into good society to improve us; and if we set up business they won’t patronize us; they want us to be barbers, and cooks and whitewashers and shoeblacks and ostlers, camp-cullimen, and sich kind of mean low business. We ain’t suffered to attend any pleasant places, or enjoy the advantages of debating schools and libraries, and societies, &c. &c., and all these things is jist what improves the whites so fast. And if we by hook or by crook git into any sich place, why some feller will step on our toes, and give us a shove, and say, ‘stand back nig, you can see jist as well a little furder off.
“Now all these things is what keeps us so much in the back ground; for if we have a chance, we git up in the world as fast as any body. For there is smart and respectable colored folks; and you sarch out their history, and you’ll find that they once had a good chance to git larnin’, and they jumped arter it. I think one of the greatest things the abolition folks should be arter, is to help the free people of color to git up in the world, and grow respectable, and educated, and then we will prove false what our enemies say, ‘that we are better off in chains than we be in freedom.’”