Slave Narratives

by William L. Andrews

  “But I must pursue my plain, sad story. All day long, I have been busy planning a safe way for William and Ellen to leave Boston. We dare not allow them to go on board a vessel, even in the port of Boston; for the writ is yet in the Marshal’s hands, and he may be waiting an opportunity to serve it; so I am expecting to accompany them to-morrow to Portland, Maine, which is beyond the reach of the Marshal’s authority; and there I hope to see them on board a British steamer.

  “This letter is written to introduce them to you. I know your infirm health; but I am sure, if you were stretched on your bed in your last illness, and could lift your hand at all, you would extend it to welcome these poor hunted fellow-creatures. Henceforth, England is their nation and their home. It is with real regret for our personal loss in their departure, as well as burning shame for the land that is not worthy of them, that we send them away, or rather allow them to go. But, with all the resolute courage they have shown in a most trying hour, they themselves see it is the part of a foolhardy rashness to attempt to stay here longer.

  “I must close; and with many renewed thanks for all your kind words and deeds towards us,

  “I am, very respectfully yours,

  “SAMUEL MAY, JUN.”

  Our old masters, having heard how their agents were treated at Boston, wrote to Mr. Filmore, who was then President of the States, to know what he could do to have us sent back to slavery. Mr. Filmore said that we should be returned. He gave instructions for military force to be sent to Boston to assist the officers in making the arrest. Therefore we, as well as our friends (among whom was George Thompson, Esq., late M.P. for the Tower Hamlets—the slave’s long-tried, self-sacrificing friend, and eloquent advocate) thought it best, at any sacrifice, to leave the mock-free Republic, and come to a country where we and our dear little ones can be truly free.— “No one daring to molest or make us afraid.” But, as the officers were watching every vessel that left the port to prevent us from escaping, we had to take the expensive and tedious overland route to Halifax.

  We shall always cherish the deepest feelings of gratitude to the Vigilance Committee of Boston (upon which were many of the leading abolitionists), and also to our numerous friends, for the very kind and noble manner in which they assisted us to preserve our liberties and to escape from Boston, as it were like Lot from Sodom, to a place of refuge, and finally to this truly free and glorious country; where no tyrant, let his power be ever so absolute over his poor trembling victims at home, dare come and lay violent hands upon us or upon our dear little boys (who had the good fortune to be born upon British soil), and reduce us to the legal level of the beast that perisheth. Oh! may God bless the thousands of unflinching, disinterested abolitionists of America, who are labouring through evil as well as through good report, to cleanse their country’s escutcheon from the foul and destructive blot of slavery, and to restore to every bondman his God-given rights; and may God ever smile upon England and upon England’s good, much-beloved, and deservedly-honoured Queen, for the generous protection that is given to unfortunate refugees of every rank, and of every colour and clime.

  On the passing of the Fugitive Slave Bill, the following learned doctors, as well as a host of lesser traitors, came out strongly in its defence.

  The Rev. Dr. Gardiner Spring, an eminent Presbyterian Clergyman of New York, well known in this country by his religious publications, declared from the pulpit that, “if by one prayer he could liberate every slave in the world he would not dare to offer it.”

  The Rev. Dr. Joel Parker, of Philadelphia, in the course of a discussion on the nature of Slavery, says, “What, then, are the evils inseparable from slavery? There is not one that is not equally inseparable from depraved human nature in other lawful relations.”

  The Rev. Moses Stuart, D.D., (late Professor in the Theological College of Andover), in his vindication of this Bill, reminds his readers that “many Southern slaveholders are true Christians.” That “sending back a fugitive to them is not like restoring one to an idolatrous people.” That “though we may pity the fugitive, yet the Mosaic Law does not authorize the rejection of the claims of the slaveholders to their stolen or strayed property.”

  The Rev. Dr. Spencer, of Brooklyn, New York, has come forward in support of the “Fugitive Slave Bill,” by publishing a sermon entitled the “Religious Duty of Obedience to the Laws,” which has elicited the highest encomiums from Dr. Samuel H. Cox, the Presbyterian minister of Brooklyn (notorious both in this country and America for his sympathy with the slaveholder).

  The Rev. W. M. Rogers, an orthodox minister of Boston, delivered a sermon in which he says, “When the slave asks me to stand between him and his master, what does he ask? He asks me to murder a nation’s life; and I will not do it, because I have a conscience,—because there is a God.” He proceeds to affirm that if resistance to the carrying out of the “Fugitive Slave Law” should lead the magistracy to call the citizens to arms, their duty was to obey and “if ordered to take human life, in the name of God to take it;” and he concludes by admonishing the fugitives to “hearken to the Word of God, and to count their own masters worthy of all honour.”

  The Rev. William Crowell, of Waterfield, State of Maine, printed a Thanksgiving Sermon of the same kind, in which he calls upon his hearers not to allow “excessive sympathies for a few hundred fugitives to blind them so as that they may risk increased suffering to the millions already in chains.”

  The Rev. Dr. Taylor, an Episcopal Clergyman of New Haven, Connecticut, made a speech at a Union Meeting, in which he deprecates the agitation on the law, and urges obedience to it; asking,—“Is that article in the Constitution contrary to the law of Nature, of nations, or to the will of God? Is it so? Is there a shadow of reason for saying it? I have not been able to discover it. Have I not shown you it is lawful to deliver up, in compliance with the laws, fugitive slaves, for the high, the great, the momentous interests of those [Southern] States?”

  The Right Rev. Bishop Hopkins, of Vermont, in a Lecture at Lockport, says, “It was warranted by the Old Testament;” and inquires, “What effect had the Gospel in doing away with slavery? None whatever.” Therefore he argues, as it is expressly permitted by the Bible, it does not in itself involve any sin; but that every Christian is authorised by the Divine Law to own slaves, provided they were not treated with unnecessary cruelty.

  The Rev. Orville Dewey, D.D., of the Unitarian connexion, maintained in his lectures that the safety of the Union is not to be hazarded for the sake of the African race. He declares that, for his part, he would send his own brother or child into slavery, if needed to preserve the Union between the free and the slaveholding States; and, counselling the slave to similar magnanimity, thus exhorts him:—“Your right to be free is not absolute, unqualified, irrespective of all consequences. If my espousal of your claim is likely to involve your race and mine together in disasters infinitely greater than your personal servitude, then you ought not to be free. In such a case personal rights ought to be sacrificed to the general good. You yourself ought to see this, and be willing to suffer for a while—one for many.”

  If the Doctor is prepared, he is quite at liberty to sacrifice his “personal rights to the general good.” But, as I have suffered a long time in slavery, it is hardly fair for the Doctor to advise me to go back. According to his showing, he ought rather to take my place. That would be practically carrying out his logic, as respects “suffering awhile—one for many.”

  In fact, so eager were they to prostrate themselves before the great idol of slavery, and, like Baalam, to curse instead of blessing the people whom God had brought out of bondage, that they in bringing up obsolete passages from the Old Testament to justify their downward course, overlooked, or would not see, the following verses, which show very clearly, according to the Doctor’s own textbook, that the slaves have a right to run away, and that it is unscriptural for any one to send them back.

  In the 23rd chapter of Deuteronomy, 15th and 16th verses, it is t
hus written:—“Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant which is escaped from his master unto thee. He shall dwell with thee, even among you, in that place which he shall choose in one of thy gates, where it liketh him best: thou shalt not oppress him.”

  “Hide the outcast. Bewray not him that wandereth. Let mine outcasts dwell with thee. Be thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler.”—(Isa. xvi. 3, 4.)

  The great majority of the American ministers are not content with uttering sentences similar to the above, or remaining wholly indifferent to the cries of the poor bondman; but they do all they can to blast the reputation, and to muzzle the mouths, of the few good men who dare to beseech the God of mercy “to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and let the oppressed go free.” These reverend gentlemen pour a terrible cannonade upon “Jonah,” for refusing to carry God’s message against Nineveh, and tell us about the whale in which he was entombed; while they utterly overlook the existence of the whales which trouble their republican waters, and know not that they themselves are the “Jonahs” who threaten to sink their ship of state, by steering in an unrighteous direction. We are told that the whale vomited up the runaway prophet. This would not have seemed so strange, had it been one of the above lukewarm Doctors of Divinity whom he had swallowed; for even a whale might find such a morsel difficult of digestion.

  “I venerate the man whose heart is warm,

  Whose hands are pure; whose doctrines and whose life

  Coincident, exhibit lucid proof

  That he is honest in the sacred cause.”

  “But grace abused brings forth the foulest deeds,

  As richest soil the most luxuriant weeds.”

  I must now leave the reverend gentlemen in the hands of Him who knows best how to deal with a recreant ministry.

  I do not wish it to be understood that all the ministers of the States are of the Baalam stamp. There are those who are as uncompromising with slaveholders as Moses was with Pharaoh, and, like Daniel, will never bow down before the great false God that has been set up.

  On arriving at Portland, we found that the steamer we intended to take had run into a schooner the previous night, and was lying up for repairs; so we had to wait there, in fearful suspense, for two or three days. During this time, we had the honour of being the guest of the late and much lamented Daniel Oliver, Esq., one of the best and most hospitable men in the State. By simply fulfilling the Scripture injunction, to take in the stranger, &c., he ran the risk of incurring a penalty of 2,000 dollars, and twelve months’ imprisonment.

  But neither the Fugitive Slave Law, nor any other Satanic enactment, can ever drive the spirit of liberty and humanity out of such noble and generous-hearted men.

  May God ever bless his dear widow, and eventually unite them in His courts above!

  We finally got off to St. John’s, New Brunswick, where we had to wait two days for the steamer that conveyed us to Windsor, Nova Scotia.

  On going into a hotel at St. John’s, we met the butler in the hall, to whom I said, “We wish to stop here to-night.” He turned round, scratching his head, evidently much put about. But thinking that my wife was white, he replied, “We have plenty of room for the lady, but I don’t know about yourself; we never take in coloured folks.” “Oh, don’t trouble about me,” I said; “if you have room for the lady, that will do; so please have the luggage taken to a bed-room.” Which was immediately done, and my wife went upstairs into the apartment.

  After taking a little walk in the town, I returned, and asked to see the “lady.” On being conducted to the little sitting-room, where she then was, I entered without knocking, much to the surprise of the whole house.” The “lady” then rang the bell, and ordered dinner for two. “Dinner for two, mum!” exclaimed the waiter, as he backed out of the door. “Yes, for two,” said my wife. In a little while the stout, red-nosed butler, whom we first met, knocked at the door. I called out, “Come in.” On entering, he rolled his whisky eyes at me, and then at my wife, and said, in a very solemn tone, “Did you order dinner for two, mum?” “Yes, for two,” my wife again replied. This confused the chubby butler more than ever; and, as the landlord was not in the house, he seemed at a loss what to do.

  When dinner was ready, the maid came in and said, “Please mum, the Missis wishes to know whether you will have dinner up now, or wait till your friend arrives?” “I will have it up at once, if you please.” “Thank you, mum,” continued the maid, and out she glided.

  After a good deal of giggling in the passage, some one said, “You are in for it, butler, after all; so you had better make the best of a bad job.” But before dinner was sent up, the landlord returned, and having heard from the steward of the steamer by which we came that we were bound for England, the proprietor’s native country, he treated us in the most respectful manner.

  At the above house, the boots (whose name I forget) was a fugitive slave, a very intelligent and active man, about forty-five years of age. Soon after his marriage, while in slavery, his bride was sold away from him, and he could never learn where the poor creature dwelt. So after remaining single for many years, both before and after his escape, and never expecting to see again, nor even to hear from, his long-lost partner, he finally married a woman at St. John’s. But, poor fellow, as he was passing down the street one day, he met a woman; at the first glance they nearly recognized each other; they both turned round and stared, and unconsciously advanced, till she screamed and flew into his arms. Her first words were, “Dear, are you married?” On his answering in the affirmative, she shrank from his embrace, hung her head, and wept. A person who witnessed this meeting told me it was most affecting.

  This couple knew nothing of each other’s escape or whereabouts. The woman had escaped a few years before to the free States, by secreting herself in the hold of a vessel; but as they tried to get her back to bondage, she fled to New Brunswick for that protection which her native country was too mean to afford.

  The man at once took his old wife to see his new one, who was also a fugitive slave, and as they all knew the workings of the infamous system of slavery, they could (as no one else can,) sympathise with each other’s misfortune.

  According to the rules of slavery, the man and his first wife were already divorced, but not morally; and therefore it was arranged between the three that he should live only with the lastly married wife, and allow the other one so much a week, as long she requested his assistance.

  After staying at St. John’s two days, the steamer arrived, which took us to Windsor, where we found a coach bound for Halifax. Prejudice against colour forced me on the top in the rain. On arriving within about seven miles of the town, the coach broke down and was upset. I fell upon the big crotchety driver, whose head stuck in the mud; and as he “always objected to niggers riding inside with white folks,” I was not particularly sorry to see him deeper in the mire than myself. All of us were scratched and bruised more or less. After the passengers had crawled out as best they could, we all set off, and paddled through the deep mud and cold and rain, to Halifax.

  On leaving Boston, it was our intention to reach Halifax at least two or three days before the steamer from Boston touched there, en route for Liverpool; but, having been detained so long at Portland and St. John’s, we had the misfortune to arrive at Halifax at dark, just two hours after the steamer had gone; consequently we had to wait there a fortnight, for the Cambria.

  The coach was patched up, and reached Halifax with the luggage, soon after the passengers arrived. The only respectable hotel that was then in the town had suspended business, and was closed; so we went to the inn, opposite the market, where the coach stopped: a most miserable, dirty hole it was.

  Knowing that we were still under the influence of the low Yankee prejudice, I sent my wife in with the other passengers, to engage a bed for herself and husband. I stopped outside in the rain till the coach came up. If I had gone in and asked for a bed they would have been quite full. But as
they thought my wife was white, she had no difficulty in securing apartments, into which the luggage was afterwards carried. The landlady, observing that I took an interest in the baggage, became somewhat uneasy, and went into my wife’s room, and said to her, “Do you know the dark man downstairs?” “Yes, he is my husband.” “Oh! I mean the black man—the nigger)” “I quite understand you; he is my husband.” “My God!” exclaimed the woman as she flounced out and banged to the door. On going upstairs, I heard what had taken place: but, as we were there, and did not mean to leave that night, we did not disturb ourselves. On our ordering tea, the landlady sent word back to say that we must take it in the kitchen, or in our bed-room, as she had no other room for “niggers.” We replied that we were not particular, and that they could send it up to our room,—which they did.