Autographs for Freedom Part 8

Consequently his prosperity is their prosperity, and his ruin would be an irretrievable disaster, not a benefit, to them. They are thus naturally his friends, and, consequently, when in desiring a change in the relation which subsists between him and his laborers, they declare that they are not actuated by any unfriendly feeling toward him, but honestly think that the change would be beneficial to all concerned, there is every reason why they should be believed.

There was a time when the laboring population of England occupied a position in respect to the proprietors of the soil there, very a.n.a.logous to that now held by African slaves in our country. But the system has been changed. From being serfs, compelled to toil for masters, under the influence of compulsion or fear, they have become a free peasantry, working in the employment of landlords, for wages.

But this change has not depressed or degraded the landlords, or injured them in any way. On the contrary, it has probably elevated and improved the condition of the master quite as much as it has that of the man.

Imagine such a change as this on any southern plantation: the Christian master desiring conscientiously to obey the divine command,--given expressly for his guidance, in his responsible relation of employer,--that he should "give unto his servants that which is just and equal,--forbearing threatening,"--resolves that he will henceforth induce industry on his estate by the payment of honest wages, instead of coercing his laborers by menaces and stripes; and after carefully considering the whole ground, he estimates, as fairly and faithfully as he can, what proportion of the whole avails of his culture properly belong to the labor performed by his men, and what to the capital, skill, and supervision, furnished and exercised by himself,--and then fixes upon a rate of wages, graduating the scale fairly and honestly according to the strength, the diligence, and the fidelity of the various laborers. Suppose, also, that some suitable arrangement is made on the plantation or in the vicinity, by which the servants can expend what they earn, in such comforts, ornaments, or luxuries as are adapted to their condition and their ideas. Suppose that, in consequence of the operation of this system, the laborers, instead of desiring, as now, to make their escape from the scene of labor, should each prize and value his place in it, and fear dismission from it as a punishment. Suppose that through the change which this new state of things should produce, it should become an agreeable and honorable duty to superintend and manage the system, as it is now agreeable and honorable to superintend the operations of a manufactory, or the construction or working of a railway, or the building of a fortress, or any other organized system of industry where the workmen are paid, and that consequently, instead of rude and degraded overseers, intemperate and profane, extorting labor by threats and severity, there should be found a cla.s.s of intelligent, humane, and honest men, to direct and superintend the industry of the estate,--men whom the proprietor would not be ashamed to a.s.sociate with, or to admit to his parlor or table. In a word, suppose that the general contentment and happiness which the new system would induce in all concerned in it, were such that peace of mind should return to the master's breast, now,--especially in hours of sickness and suffering, and at the approach of death,--so often disturbed, and a sense of safety be restored to his family, so that it should no longer be necessary to keep the pistols or the rifle always at hand, and that the wife and children could lie down and sleep at night, without starting at unusual or sudden sounds, or apprehending insurrection when they hear the cry of fire. Suppose that such a change as this were possible, is it the part of a friend or an enemy to desire to have it effected?

But all such suppositions as these, the southern man will perhaps say, are visionary and utopian in the highest degree. No such state of things as is contemplated by them, can by any possibility be realized with such a population as the southern slaves. Very well; say _this_, if you please, and prove it, if it can be proved. But do not charge those who desire that it might be realized, with being actuated, in advocating the change, by unfriendly feelings towards you,--for most a.s.suredly they do not entertain any.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (signature) Jacob Abbott.]

Christine.

"O, these childen, how they do lie round our hearts."--MILLY EDMONDSON.

The clock struck the appointed hour, and the sale commenced. Articles of household furniture, horses, carts, and slaves, were waiting together to be sold to the highest bidder. For strange as it would seem in another land than this, beneath the ample folds of the "Star-spangled Banner," _human sinews_ were to be bought and sold.

Bodies, such as the Apostle called the "temples of the Holy Ghost," in which dwelt souls for which Christ died;--men, women and little children, made in the image of G.o.d, were cla.s.sed with marketable commodities, to be sold by the pound, like dumb beasts in the shambles. Husbands would be torn from their wives, mothers from their children, and _all_ from everything they loved most dearly.

The group of _human chattels_ excited great interest among the lookers-on, for they were a choice lot of prime negroes, and rumor said that he would get a rare bargain who bought that day.

It was a saddening sight, that dusky group, whose only crime was being

"---- guilty of a skin Not colored like our own,"

as they waited with anxious looks and quivering hearts to hear their doom, filling up the dreary moments with thoughts of the chances and changes which overhung their future.

A bright-eyed boy, of twelve years old,

"A brave, free-hearted, careless one,"

with a proud spirit playing in every line of his handsome face, and in every movement of his graceful form, was first called to the auction-block. His good qualities were rapidly enumerated, his limbs rudely examined, his soundness vouched for, and he became the chattel personal of a Georgian, who boasted of his good bargain; and on being warned that he would have trouble with the boy, declared with an oath, that he would "soon take the devil out of him."

Matty, a sister of this lad, was next placed upon the stand. Her beauty, which the excitement of that dreadful moment only served to heighten, hushed for awhile the coa.r.s.e jests of the crowd. She was a splendid-looking creature, just entering upon womanhood. But her beauty proved, as beauty must ever prove to a slave woman, a deadly curse. It enhanced her market value, and sealed her deadly fate. It attracted the eye, and inflamed the pa.s.sions of a wealthy Louisianian, named St. Laurent, who gave a thousand dollars in hard gold in exchange for her, that he might make her his petted favorite. Wives, mothers, daughters of America, have _you_ nothing to do with slavery, when such is the fate of slave women? _Can_ you sit silent, and at your ease, knowing that such things are?

When Matty was removed from the auction-block, she fell upon her brother's neck, and wept such tears as only they can weep whom slavery parts, never to meet again.

"Christine!" cried the loud voice of the auctioneer. Matty checked her pa.s.sionate grief, and turning saw her mother, with her baby in her arms, standing where she herself had stood but just before. Quickly her keen eye sought the form of her new master. With a sudden impulse she threw herself at his feet, exclaiming, "O master, master, _do_ buy my mother too!" The man gazed for a moment on the beautiful face upturned to his, with a look which made the lashes droop over her pleading eyes, and tapping her cheek with his finger, he said,

"What! coaxing so early, my pretty one? No, no; it will not do; I have no use for the old woman."

"Oh, master, she is not old. _Do_ buy my mother, master!"

"Here is a prize for you, gentlemen," broke in the harsh tones of the auctioneer. "There is the best housekeeper and cook in all Virginia.

Who bids for her? $300 did you say, sir? $325--thanks, gentlemen, but I cannot sell this woman for a song. She is an excellent seamstress.

$400--$450--$500--I am glad to see you are warming up a little, gentlemen,--but she is worth more money than that. Look at her! What a form! what an eye! what arms!--there is muscle for you, gentlemen.

Upon my honor she is the flower of the lot,--a dark-colored rose,--black, but comely; and her baby goes with her. $550, did I hear you say, sir? Will no one give more than $550 for such a woman and baby?"

"The baby is of no account," said Mr. St. Laurent; "she would sell better without it. If I buy her, I shall give away the little enc.u.mbrance."

The poor slave-mother heard him, and strained her baby to her bosom, as if she would say, "You shall _never_ take him from me." The boy looked into her face, and smiled a sweet baby smile, and put his little arms about her neck, and laid his cheek on hers. One would have thought he understood what was pa.s.sing in her heart, and strove to comfort her. "$575--$600--$650,"--and Christine and her baby boy became the property of Mr. St. Laurent.

"I would not have bought the woman," said he, turning to an acquaintance, "but for the girl's importunity. I feared she would have the sulks if I didn't, and I want to keep her good-natured. I shall give the mother as a wedding-present to my daughter. But anybody may have the child, who will take him off my hands?"

"I will take him, sir, and thank you too," said a little, sharp looking, bustling man, stepping briskly up, and bowing to Mr. St.

Laurent.

"Will you, my friend? Then he is yours, and you may take him away as soon as you please."

"If I take him now, the woman will raise a storm," said the little man; "I know a better way than that," and drawing Mr. St. Laurent aside, he communicated his plan, and they parted mutually satisfied.

Meanwhile the sale went on, but we will not follow further its revolting details. Christine, with her baby and Matty, were put in safe quarters for the night. Notwithstanding the intense anxiety that filled their minds, and a superst.i.tious fear in Christine's heart that the worst had not yet come, an unaccountable drowsiness oppressed them, and before long both fell into a deep death-like sleep.

Morning broke over the green earth. The sun gilded the mountain-tops, and bathing the trees in splendor, was greeted with ten thousand bird-songs. He kissed the dewy flowers, and their fragrance rose as incense on the morning air. He looked into the windows of happy homes, and wakened golden-haired children to renew their joyous sports, and mothers, whose

"---- souls were hushed with their weight of bliss Like flowers surcharged with dew,"

sent up their morning thanksgiving to "Him who never slumbers," for His protection of their "laughing dimpled treasures." Suddenly a warm ray fell upon the face of the sleeping slave-mother. She wakened with a start, and with one wild shriek of agony sprang from the bed. Her babe was gone.

Why need we dwell upon what followed? What pen can describe the anguish of the heart-broken mother, when she knew that while under the influence of opiates which she had unwittingly taken, her boy had been taken from her, and that she should look upon her darling's face no more. Mother! look at the darling nestler upon your own bosom, and ask yourself how you would have felt in Christine's place.

After the first burst of agony was over, she did not give way outwardly to grief. One might have thought she did not grieve. But she carried all her sorrows in her heart, till they had eaten out her life.

On the morning of Eleanore St. Laurent's bridal day, Christine was sent for to perform some service for her young mistress. But the spoil had been taken out of the hands of the spoiler--the bruised heart was at rest. The outraged soul had gone with its complaints to the bar of the Eternal.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (signature) Anne P. Adams.]

The Intellectual, Moral, and Spiritual Condition of the Slave.

The American slave is a human being. He possesses all the attributes of mind and heart that belong to the rest of mankind. He has intellect with which to think, sensibility with which to feel, and toil which prompts him to vigorous and manly action. Nor is he dest.i.tute of the sublime faculty of reason, which is related to eternal and absolute truths. Imagination and fancy, too, he possesses, in a very large degree. But all these faculties, which nature has bestowed upon the slave in common with other men, by a decree of slavery fixed and unalterable like the laws of the Medes and Persians, are undeveloped, and the results, therefore, of their activities are not to be found.

How mean then it must be to reproach the unfortunate slave with a lack of intellectual qualities, such as characterize men generally. In proof of the statement, that slaves have these qualities, it is only necessary to refer to the many fugitives who, by their great thoughts, their masterly logic, and their captivating eloquence, are astonishing both the Old and the New World. Education is what the white man needs for the development of his intellectual energies. And it is what the black man needs for the development of his. Educate him, and his mind proves itself at once as profound and masterly in its conceptions, and as brisk and irresistible in its decisions, as the mind of any other man.

But, in addition to his intellectual, the slave possesses a moral nature, capable of the highest development and the most refined culture. A conscience tender and acute, the voice of G.o.d in his soul bidding him to choose the right and avoid the wrong, is his lawful inheritance bestowed upon him by his Heavenly Father. This no one can deny who knows aught of the love of moral truth manifested by the slaves of this country. G.o.d has not left the slaves without moral sense. Nor has he denied him the spiritual faculty which, when cultivated, enables him to recognize G.o.d in his spiritual manifestations, to discern and appreciate spiritual truths, and to feel and relish the gentle distillations of the spirit of divine love as they fall upon his heart like dew upon the grateful earth. The moral and spiritual nature of the slave, however, like his intellectual, goes uneducated and untrained. Deep, dark, and impenetrable is the gloom which enshrouds the mind and soul of the slave. No ray of light cheers him in his midnight darkness. No one is allowed to fetch him the blessings of education, and no preacher of righteousness is suffered to illumine his dark mind by the presentation of sacred truth.

It is indeed true that slavery is a political, a civil, and a commercial evil. It is true that it is most excruciating and frightful in its effects upon the physical nature of its victim. But slavery is seen in its more awful wickedness and terrible heinousness, when we contemplate the vast waste of intellect, the vast waste of moral and spiritual energy, which has been caused by its poisonous touch.

And yet the power of the State, and the influence of the Church, are given to its support. Many of our leading statesmen are engaged in devising and furthering plans for the extension of its territorial area, thereby hoping to perpetuate and eternize its b.l.o.o.d.y existence, while the majority of our most distinguished divines find employment in constructing discourses, founded upon perverse expositions of sacred writ, calculated to establish and fix in the minds of the people the impression that slavery is a divine inst.i.tution.

Although this mighty power of the State, and influence of the Church, be opposed to the slave, let him not despair, but be full of hope. For G.o.d is upon his side, truth is upon his side, and a mult.i.tude of good and able men and women are engaged in working out his redemption.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (signature) J. Mercer Langston]

OBERLIN, August 27, 1853.