A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 6

"You can tell Elsie that since our return my father bought her eldest daughter; that she is now his property, and the mother of a likely boy, that I call Daniel Haviland after your pretty son. She has plenty to eat, and has shoes in the Winter, an article Willis's children had not when I was there, although it was cold enough to freeze the horns off the cows.... What do you think your portion will be at the great day of judgment? I think it will be the inner temple of h.e.l.l."

In my reply, dated Raisin, March 16, 1847, I informed the sick deacon that my letter to his father "had served as a moral emetic, by the ma.s.s of black, bilious, and putrid matter it bad sent forth. You must have been exercised with as great distress, as extreme pain, that was producing paroxysms and vomiting, that you had in your sick-room in the Toledo hotel, when your physician was so hastily called to your relief by your son-in-law, as the matter that lies before me in letter form is as 'black', and much more 'bilious,' and nearer 'mortification' than that I saw there."

"We thank you for the name's sake. May he possess the wisdom of a Daniel of old, although his lot be cast in the lions' den; and, like Moses, may he become instrumental in leading his people away from a worse bondage than that of Egypt.

"According to your logic, we are not only robbing the slaveholder, but the poor slave of his valuable home, where he can enjoy the elevating and soul-enn.o.bling privilege of looking 'greasy, slick, and fat'--can have the privilege of being forbidden the laborious task of cultivating his intellect--is forbidden to claim his wife and children as his own instead of the property of John P. Chester."

I pitied the young man, whose bitterness of hate seemed incorrigible, and gave advice which I deemed wholesome, although I yielded to the temptation of dealing somewhat in irony and sarcasm.

But the next letter from the sick deacon was filled and running over with vulgar blackguardism, that I would neither answer nor give to the public eye. It was directed to "Laura S. Haviland, Esq., or Dan." As it arrived in my absence, my son Daniel handed it to Rev. John Patchin, who became so indignant in reading the list of epithets that he proposed to reply.

The first sentence of his letter was:

"Sir,--As John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay were seated in Congress, they saw pa.s.sing on the street a drove of jacka.s.ses. Said Henry Clay, 'There, Sir, Adams, is a company of your const.i.tuents as they come from the North.' 'All right; they are going South to teach yours,' was the quick reply. And I think one of those long-eared animals has strayed down your way, and your ma might have sent you to his school--I think, however, but a few weeks, or your epistolary correspondence with Mrs.

Haviland would have been vastly improved."

From the report my son gave me of the short epistle, it was filled with sentenced couched in the same spirit throughout; "for," said he, "that rabid fire-eater has been treated in a manner too mild. He needs something more nearly like his own coin."

I shortly after received a few lines from Thomas K. Chester, informing me that he had my last letter struck off in hand-bills, and circulated in a number of the Southern States, "over its true signature, Laura S.

Haviland, as you dictated and your daughter wrote it; for, as strange as it may appear, I have the handwriting of every one of your family, and also of Willis Hamilton. I distribute these hand-bills for the purpose of letting the South see what sort of sisters they have in the North." We learned from a number of sources that to this circular or hand-bill was attached a reward of $3,000 for my head.

As for the letter that Chester had richly earned, neither my daughter nor myself had the privilege of perusing it, as it was mailed before my return home. But I presume the indignant writer designed to close the unpleasant correspondence.

SECOND EFFORT TO RETAKE THE HAMILTON FAMILY.

After the pa.s.sage of the famous Fugitive-slave Bill of 1850, turning the whole population of the North into slave-hunters, Thomas K.

Chester, with renewed a.s.surance, came to Lawyer Beacher's office, in Adrian, and solicited his services in capturing the Hamiltons, as he was now prepared to take legal steps in recovering his property. Said he:

"I ask no favors of Adrian or Raisin, as I have my posse of thirty men within a stone's throw of this city. All I ask is legal authority from you, Mr. Beacher, and I can easily get them in my possession."

"I can not aid you," said Mr. Beacher; "it would ruin my practice as a lawyer."

"I will give you $100, besides your fee," rejoined Chester.

"You have not enough money in your State of Tennessee to induce me to a.s.sist you in any way whatever."

"Will you direct me to a lawyer who will aid me?"

"I can not; I know of none in our State who could be hired to a.s.sist you. And I advise you to return to your home; for you will lose a hundred dollars where you will gain one, if you pursue it."

At this advice he became enraged, and swore he would have them this time, at any cost. "And if old Laura Haviland interferes I'll put her in prison. I acknowledge she outwitted us before; but let her dare prevent my taking them this time, and I'll be avenged on her before I leave this State."

"All the advice I have to give you is to abandon this scheme, for you will find no jail in this State that will hold that woman. And I request you not to enter my office again on this business, for if it were known to the public it would injure my practice; and I shall not recognize you on the street."

In a lower tone Chester continued, "I request you, Mr. Beacher, as a gentleman, to keep my name and business a secret." With a few imprecations he left the office.

My friend R. Beacher sent a dispatch to me at once by Sheriff Spafford, to secure the safety of the Hamilton family at once, if still on my premises, as my Tennessee correspondents were probably in or near Adrian. I informed him they were safe in Canada within six months after the visit from the Chesters. Mr. Beacher also advised me to make my property safe without delay, but this had been done two years previously. On receiving this information my friend Beacher replied, "Had I known this I would have sent for her, for I'd give ten dollars to see them meet." Mr. Chester heard that the Hamilton family had gone to Canada, but he did not believe it, as he also heard they had gone to Ypsilanti, in this State, where he said he should follow them.

We learned in the sequel that he went to Ypsilanti, and took rooms and board in a hotel, while calling on every colored family in town and for two or three miles around it, sometimes as a drover, at other times an agent to make arrangements for purchasing wood and charcoal. During four weeks he found a family that answered the description of the Hamilton family in color and number. He wrote to his father that he had found them under an a.s.sumed name, and requested him to send a man who could recognize them, as they had been away over eighteen years. The man was sent, and two weeks more were spent in reconnoitering. At length both were agreed to arrest David Gordon and wife, with their four children, as the Hamilton family, and applied for a warrant to take the family as escaped slaves. The United States Judge, Hon. Ross Wilkins, who issued the warrant, informed one of the most active underground railroad men, George De Baptist, of this claimant's business. He immediately telegraphed to a vigorous worker in Ypsilanti, who sent runners in every direction, inquiring for a Hamilton family.

None could be found; and the conclusion was reached that they were newcomers and were closely concealed, and the only safe way was to set a watch at the depot for officers and their posse, and follow whithersoever they went, keeping in sight. This was done, and the place they found aimed for was David Gordon's. On entering the house the officer placed hand-cuffs on David Gordon, who in surprise asked, "What does this mean?"

Said the officer, "I understand your name is Willis Hamilton, once a slave in Tennessee."

Gordon replied, "No, sir, you are mistaken; I never was in that State; neither is my name Hamilton, but Gordon, and I have free papers from Virginia."

"Where are your papers? If they are good they shall save you."

Pointing to a trunk, "There they are; take that key and you'll find them."

While the officer was getting the papers, Chester went to the bed of the sick wife, placed a six-shooter at her head, and swore he'd blow her brains out in a moment if she did not say their name was Hamilton.

"No, sir, our name is Gordon." Their little girl, standing by, cried out with fear. He turned to her, with pistol pointing toward her face, and swore he'd kill her that instant if she did not say her father's name was Willis Hamilton.

At this juncture, the officer's attention was arrested. "What are you about, you villain? You'll be arrested before you know it, if you are not careful. Put up that pistol instantly, and if these papers are good, I shall release this man, and return the warrant unserved."

He examined them and said, "These papers I find genuine." He then removed the handcuffs from David Gordon, and with the discomfited Thomas K. Chester and Tennessee companion returned to the depot for the Detroit train.

While on their way they met a colored man that Chester swore was Willis Hamilton. Said the officer, "You know not what you are about; I shall arrest no man at your command."

On returning the unserved warrant to Judge Wilkins, Chester charged him with being allied with the "d----d abolitionist, old Laura Haviland, in running off that family to Malden, to keep me out of my property."

"I knew nothing of the family, or of your business, until you came into this office yesterday," replied the judge.

In a rage and with an oath, he replied, "I know, sir, your complicity in keeping slave-holders out of their property, and can prove it." He threw his hat on the floor and gave a stamp, as if to strengthen his oath.

The judge simply ordered him out of his office, instead of committing him to prison for contempt of court; and with his companion he went back to his Tennessee home, again defeated.

Thomas K. Chester wrote and had published scurrilous articles in Tennessee, and in a number of other Southern States. They were vigorously circulated until the following Congress, in which the grave charge was brought against the judge, "of being allied with Mrs.

Haviland, of the interior of the State of Michigan, a rabid abolitionist, in keeping slaveholders out of their slave property." A vigorous effort was made by Southern members to impeach him, while his friends were pet.i.tioning Congress to raise his salary, Judge Wilkins was sent for to answer to these false charges. Although they failed to impeach him, yet on account of these charges the addition to his salary was lost.

When these false accusations were brought into Congress, and the judge was informed of the necessity of his presence to answer thereto, he inquired of Henry Bibb and others where I was. They informed him that I was absent from home. On my return from Cincinnati with a few underground railroad pa.s.sengers, I learned of the trouble Judge Wilkins met, and I called on him. He told me of the pile of Southern papers he had received, with scurrilous articles, designed to prejudice Southern members of Congress against him. Said he, "Although they failed in the impeachment, they said they would come against me with double force next Congress, and should effect their object." Said the judge, "I want your address, for if they do repeat their effort, with the explanation you have now given, I think I can save another journey to Washington.

The judge was never again called upon to defend himself on this subject, as their effort was not repeated; neither did their oft-repeated threat to imprison me disturb us."

DEATH OF THE CHESTERS

In the third year of the Rebellion, while in Memphis, Tennessee, on a mission to the perishing, I found myself in the city where my Tennessee correspondents lived a few years previous to their deaths. From a minister who had long been a resident of that city, and had also lived near Jonesboro, where they resided during the correspondence, I learned the following facts: A few years prior to the war John P. Chester removed with his family to Memphis, where he became a patroller. His son Thomas transacted business as a lawyer. I was shown his residence, and the office where John P. Chester was shot through the heart by a mulatto man, whose free papers he demanded, doubting their validity.

Said the man, "I am as free as you are; and to live a slave I never shall." He then drew a six-shooter from its hiding-place and shot him through the heart. He fell, exclaiming, "O G.o.d, I'm a dead man." The man threw down the fatal weapon, saying to the bystanders, "Here I am, gentlemen, shoot me, or hang me, just as you please, but to live a slave to any man I never shall." He was taken by the indignant crowd, and hung on the limb of a tree near by, pierced with many bullets. I can not describe the feeling that crept over me, as I gazed upon the pavement where John P. Chester met his fate, and which I had walked over in going to officers' head-quarters from the steamer. Oh! what a life, to close with such a tragedy!

Thomas K. Chester being a few rods distant ran to a.s.sist his dying father, but his life was gone ere he reached him. A few months later he was brought from a boat sick with yellow fever, and died in one week from the attack in terrible paroxysms and ravings, frequently requiring six men to hold him on his bed. He was ill the same length of time that they falsely represented a few years before in the Toledo hotel. Said the narrator, "Thomas K. Chester's death was the most awful I ever witnessed. He cursed and swore to his last breath, saying he saw his father standing by his bed, with d.a.m.ned spirits waiting to take him away to eternal burnings."

After a long walk one day, I called at the former residence of the Chester family, and was seated in the front parlor. It is hard to imagine my feelings as I sat in the room where those two men had lain in death's cold embrace--men who had flourished toward my face the six-shooter. It was by this kind of deadly weapon the life of one was taken; and as nearly as words can describe the feigned sickness, the last week of the life of the other was spent. No wonder the blood seemed to curdle in my veins in contemplating the lives of these men, and their end. It is beyond the power of pen to describe the panorama that pa.s.sed before me in these moments. The proprietor of the Toledo hotel lost custom by his complicity in their efforts to retake their alleged slave property. A few months after the hotel was burned to ashes.

CHAPTER IV.