The Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  You say again you have never seen a slave, however careless and merryhearted,

  who had not this sore place, and that did not shrink or get angry if a finger was

  laid on it. I see that you have been a close observer of negro nature.

  So far as I understand your idea, I think you are perfectly correct in the

  impression you have received, as explained in your note.

  O Mrs. Stowe, slavery is an awful system! It takes man as God made him;

  it demolishes him, and then mis-creates him, or perhaps I should say mal-creates

  him!

  Wishing you good health and good success in your arduous work,

  I am yours, respectfully,

  J. W. C. Pennington.

  Mrs. H. B. Stowe.

  People of intelligence, who have had the care of slaves, have

  often made this remark to the writer: “They are a singular,

  whimsical people; you can do a great deal more with them by

  humouring some of their prejudices than by bestowing on them

  the most substantial favours.” On inquiring what these pre-

  judices were, the reply would be, “They like to have their

  weddings elegantly celebrated, and to have a good deal of notice

  taken of their funerals, and to give and go to parties dressed

  and appearing like white people; and they will often put up

  with material inconveniences, and suffer themselves to be

  worked very hard, if they are humoured in these respects.”

  Can anyone think of this without compassion? Poor souls!

  willing to bear with so much for simply this slight acknowledg-

  ment of their common humanity. To honour their weddings

  and funerals is, in some sort, acknowledging that they are

  human, and therefore they prize it. Hence we see the reason

  of the passionate attachment which often exists in a faithful

  slave to a good master; it is, in fact, a transfer of his identity

  to his master. A stern law, and an unchristian public senti-

  ment, has taken away his birthright of humanity, erased his

  name from the catalogue of men, and made him an anomalous

  creature--neither man nor brute. When a kind master recog-

  nises his humanity, and treats him as a humble companion and

  a friend, there is no end to the devotion and gratitude which he

  thus excites. He is to the slave a deliverer and a saviour from

  the curse which lies on his hapless race. Deprived of all legal

  rights and privileges, all opportunity or hope of personal

  advancement or honour, he transfers, as it were, his whole

  existence into his master's, and appropriates his rights, his

  position, his honour, as his own; and thus enjoys a kind of

  reflected sense of what it might be to be a man himself.

  Hence it is that the appeal to the more generous part of the

  negro character is seldom made in vain.

  An acquaintance of the writer was married to a gentleman in

  Louisiana, who was the proprietor of some eight hundred slaves.

  He, of course, had a large train of servants in his domestic

  establishment. When about to enter upon her duties, she was

  warned that the servants were all so thievish that she would be

  under the necessity, in common with all other housekeepers, of

  keeping everything under lock and key. She, however, an-

  nounced her intention of training her servants in such a manner

  as to make this unnecessary. Her ideas were ridiculed as

  chimerical, but she resolved to carry them into practice. The

  course she pursued was as follows:--She called all the family

  servants together; told them that it would be a great burden

  and restraint upon her to be obliged to keep everything locked

  from them; that she had heard that they were not at all to be

  trusted, but that she could not help hoping that they were much

  better than they had been represented. She told them that she

  should provide abundantly for all their wants, and then that she

  should leave her stores unlocked, and trust to their honour.

  The idea that they were supposed capable of having any

  honour struck a new chord at once in every heart. The servants

  appeared most grateful for the trust, and there was much public

  spirit excited, the older and graver ones exerting themselves to

  watch over the children, that nothing might be done to destroy

  this new-found treasure of honour.

  At last, however, the lady discovered that some depredations

  had been made on her cake by some of the juvenile part of the

  establishment; she, therefore, convened all the servants, and

  stated the fact to them. She remarked that it was not on account

  of the value of the cake that she felt annoyed, but that they

  must be sensible that it would not be pleasant for her to have it

  indiscriminately fingered and handled, and that, therefore, she

  should set some cake out upon a table, or some convenient place,

  and beg that all those who were disposed to take it would go

  there and help themselves, and allow the rest to remain undis-

  turbed in the closet. She states that the cake stood upon the

  table and dried, without a morsel of it being touched, and that

  she never afterwards had any trouble in this respect.

  A little time after, a new carriage was bought, and one night

  the leather boot of it was found to be missing. Before her

  husband had time to take any steps on the subject, the servants

  of the family had called a convention among themselves, and

  instituted an inquiry into the offence. The boot was found and

  promptly restored, though they would not reveal to their master

  and mistress the name of the offender.

  One other anecdote which this lady related illustrates that

  peculiar devotion of a slave to a good master, to which allusion

  has been made. Her husband met with his death by a sudden

  and melancholy accident. He had a personal attendant and

  confidential servant who had grown up with him from childhood.

  This servant was so overwhelmed with grief as to be almost

  stupified. On the day of the funeral a brother of his deceased

  master inquired of him if he had performed a certain commission

  for his mistress. The servant said that he had forgotten it.

  Not perceiving his feelings at the moment, the gentleman replied,

  “I am surprised that you should neglect any command of your

  mistress, when she is in such affliction.”

  This remark was the last drop in the full cup. The poor

  fellow fell to the ground entirely insensible, and the family were

  obliged to spend nearly two hours employing various means to

  restore his vitality. The physician accounted for his situation

  by saying that there had been such a rush of all the blood in

  the body towards the heart, that there was actual danger of a

  rupture of that organ--a literal death by a broken heart.

  Some thoughts may be suggested by Miss Ophelia's con-

  scientious but unsuccessful efforts in the education of Topsy.

  Society has yet need of a great deal of enlightening as to the

  means of restoring the vicious and degraded to virtue.

  It has been erroneously supposed that with brutal and de-

  graded natures only coarse and brutal measures could avail;

/>   and yet it has been found, by those who have most experience,

  that their success with this class of society has been just in

  proportion to the delicacy and kindliness with which they have

  treated them.

  Lord Shaftesbury, who has won so honourable a fame by his

  benevolent interest in the efforts made for the degraded lower

  classes of his own land, says, in a recent letter to the author:--

  You are right about Topsy; our ragged schools will afford you many instances

  of poor children, hardened by kicks, insults and neglect, moved to tears and

  docility by the first word of kindness. It opens new feelings, developes, as it were

  a new nature, and brings the wretched outcast into the family of man.

  Recent efforts which have been made among unfortunate

  females in some of the worst districts of New York show the

  same thing. What is it that rankles deepest in the breast of

  fallen woman, that makes her so hopeless and irreclaimable?

  It is that burning consciousness of degradation which stings

  worse than cold or hunger, and makes her shrink from the face

  of the missionary and the philanthropist. They who have

  visited these haunts of despair and wretchedness have learned

  that they must touch gently the shattered harp of the human

  soul, if they would string it again to divine music; that they

  must encourage self-respect, and hope, and sense of character,

  or the bonds of death can never be broken.

  Let us examine the gospel of Christ, and see on what prin-

  ciples its appeals are constructed. Of what nature are those

  motives which have melted our hearts and renewed our wills?

  Are they not appeals to the most generous and noble instincts

  of our nature? Are we not told of One fairer than the sons of

  men--One reigning in immortal glory, who loved us so that he

  could bear pain, and want, and shame, and death itself, for our

  sake?

  When Christ speaks to the soul, does he crush one of its

  nobler faculties? Does he taunt us with our degradation, our

  selfishness, our narrowness of view, and feebleness of intellect,

  compared with his own? Is it not true that he not only

  saves us from our sins, but saves us in a way most considerate,

  most tender, most regardful of our feelings and sufferings?

  Does not the Bible tell us that, in order to fulfil his office of

  Redeemer the more perfectly, he took upon him the condition of

  humanity, and endured the pains, and wants, and temptations

  of a mortal existence, that he might be to us a sympathising,

  appreciating friend, “touched with the feelings of our infirmi-

  ties,” and cheering us gently on in the hard path of returning

  virtue?

  Oh, when shall we, who have received so much of Jesus Christ,

  learn to repay it in acts of kindness to our poor brethren?

  When shall we be Christ-like, and not man-like, in our efforts to

  reclaim the fallen and wandering?

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE QUAKERS.

  The writer's sketch of the character of this people has been

  drawn from personal observation. There are several settlements

  of these people in Ohio; and the manner of living, the tone of

  sentiment, and the habits of life, as represented in her book, are

  not at all exaggerated.

  These settlements have always been refuges for the oppressed

  and outlawed slave. The character of Rachel Halliday was a

  real one, but she has passed away to her reward. Simeon

  Halliday, calmly risking fine and imprisonment for his love to

  God and man, has had in this country many counterparts among

  the sect.

  The writer had in mind, at the time of writing, the scenes in

  the trial of John Garret, of Wilmington, Delaware, for the crime

  of hiring a hack to convey a mother and four children from

  Newcastle jail to Wilmington, a distance of five miles.

  The writer has received the facts in this case, in a letter from

  John Garret himself, from which some extracts will be made.

  Wilmington, Delaware,, 1st month 18th, 1853.

  My Dear Friend, Harriet Beecher Stowe,--I have this day received a

  request from Charles K. Whipple, of Boston, to furnish thee with a statement,

  authentic and circumstantial, of the trouble and losses which have been brought

  upon myself and others of my friends from the aid we had rendered to fugitive

  slaves, in order, if thought of sufficient importance, to be published in a work thee

  is now preparing for the press.

  I will now endeavour to give thee a statement of what John Hunn and myself

  suffered by aiding a family of slaves, a few years since. I will give the facts as

  they occurred, and thee may condense and publish so much as thee may think

  useful in thy work, and no more.

  In the 12th month, year 1846, a family, consisting of Samuel Hawkins, a free-

  man, his wife Emeline, and six children, who were afterwards proved slaves, stopped

  at the house of a friend named John Hunn, near Middletown, in this State, in the

  evening about sunset, to procure food and lodging for the night. They were seen

  by some of Hunn's pro-slavery neighbours, who soon came with a constable, and

  had them taken before a magistrate. Hunn had left the slaves in his kitchen when

  he went to the village of Middletown, half a mile distant. When the officer came

  with a warrant for them, he met Hunn at the kitchen-door, and asked for the

  blacks. Hunn, with truth, said he did not know where they were. Hunn's wife,

  thinking they would be safer, had sent them up stairs during his absence, where

  they were found. Hunn made no resistance, and they were taken before the

  magistrate, and from his office direct to Newcastle jail, where they arrived about

  one o'clock on 7th day morning.

  The sheriff and his daughter, being kind, humane people, inquired of Hawkins

  and wife the facts of their case; and his daughter wrote to a lady here, to request

  me to go to Newcastle and inquire into the case, as her father and self really

  believed they were most of them, if not all, entitled to their freedom. Next morn-

  ing I went to Newcastle; had the family of coloured people brought into the

  parlour, and the sheriff and myself came to the conclusion that the parents

  and four youngest children were by law entitled to their freedom. I prevailed

  on the sheriff to show me the commitment of the magistrate, which I found was

  defective, and not in due form according to law. I procured a copy, and handed it

  to a lawyer. He pronounced the commitment irregular, and agreed to go next

  morning to Newcastle, and have the whole family taken before Judge Booth, Chief

  Justice of the State, by habeas corpus, when the following admission was made by

  Samuel Hawkins and wife: they admitted that the two eldest boys were held by

  one Charles Glaudin, of Queen Anne County, Maryland, as slaves; that after the

  birth of these two children, Elizabeth Turner, also of Queen Anne, the mistress of

  their mother, had set her free, and permitted her to go and live with her husband,

  near twenty miles from her residence, after which the four youngest children were

  born; that her mistress during all that time, eleven or twelve years, had
never

  contributed one dollar to their support, or come to see them. After examining

  the commitment in their case, and consulting with my attorney, the judge set the

  whole family at liberty. The day was wet and cold; one of the children, three

  years old, was a cripple from white swelling, and could not walk a step; another,

  eleven months old, at the breast; and the parents being desirous of getting to

  Wilmington, five miles distant, I asked the judge if there would be any risk or

  impropriety in my hiring a conveyance for the mother and four young children

  to Wilmington. His reply, in the presence of the sheriff and my attorney, was,

  there would not be any. I then requested the sheriff to procure a hack to take

  them over to Wilmington.

  The whole family escaped. John Hunn and John Garret were

  brought up to trial for having practically fulfilled those words of

  Christ, which read, “I was a stranger and ye took me in, I was

  sick and in prison and ye came unto me.” For John Hunn's

  part of this crime he was fined two thousand five hundred dollars,

  and John Garret was fined five thousand four hundred. Three

  thousand five hundred of this was the fine for hiring a hack for

  them, and one thousand nine hundred was assessed on him as

  the value of the slaves! Our European friends will infer from

  this that it costs something to obey Christ in America, as well

  as in Europe.

  After John Garret's trial was over, and this heavy judgment

  had been given against him, he calmly rose in the court-room,

  and requested leave to address a few words to the court and

  audience.

  Leave being granted, he spoke as follows:--

  I have a few words which I wish to address to the court, jury, and prosecutors,

  in the several suits that have been brought against me during the sittings of this

  court, in order to determine the amount of penalty I must pay for doing what my

  feelings prompted me to do as a lawful and meritorious act; a simple act of

  humanity and justice, as I believed, to eight of that oppressed race, the people of

  colour, whom I found in the Newcastle jail, in the 12th month, 1845. I will now

  endeavour to state the facts of those cases, for your consideration and reflection

  after you return home to your families and friends. You will then have time to

  ponder on what has transpired here since the sitting of this court, and I believe