The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave by William Wells Brown
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William Wells Brown >> The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave
While living with Mr. Lovejoy, I was often sent on errands to the office
of the "Missouri Republican," published by Mr. Edward Charles. Once,
while returning to the office with type, I was attacked by several large
boys, sons of slave-holders, who pelted me with snow-balls. Having the
heavy form of type in my hands, I could not make my escape by running;
so I laid down the type and gave them battle. They gathered around me,
pelting me with stones and sticks, until they overpowered me, and would
have captured me, if I had not resorted to my heels. Upon my retreat,
they took possession of the type; and what to do to regain it I could
not devise. Knowing Mr. Lovejoy to be a very humane man, I went to the
office, and laid the case before him. He told me to remain in the
office. He took one of the apprentices with him, and went after the
type, and soon returned with it; but on his return informed me that
Samuel McKinney had told him that he would whip me, because I had hurt
his boy. Soon after, McKinney was seen making his way to the office by
one of the printers, who informed me of the fact, and I made my escape
through the back door.
McKinney not being able to find me on his arrival, left the office in a
great rage, swearing that he would whip me to death. A few days after,
as I was walking along Main Street, he seized me by the collar, and
struck me over the head five or six times with a large cane, which
caused the blood to gush from my nose and ears in such a manner that my
clothes were completely saturated with blood. After beating me to his
satisfaction, he let me go, and I returned to the office so weak from
the loss of blood, that Mr. Lovejoy sent me home to my master. It was
five weeks before I was able to walk again. During this time, it was
necessary to have some one to supply my place at the office, and I lost
the situation.
After my recovery, I was hired to Capt. Otis Reynolds, as a waiter on
board the steamboat Enterprize, owned by Messrs. John and Edward Walsh,
commission merchants at St. Louis. This boat was then running on the
upper Mississippi. My employment on board was to wait on gentlemen, and
the captain being a good man, the situation was a pleasant one to
me;--but in passing from place to place, and seeing new faces every day,
and knowing that they could go where they pleased, I soon became
unhappy, and several times thought of leaving the boat at some landing
place, and trying to make my escape to Canada, which I had heard much
about as a place where the slave might live, be free, and be protected.
But whenever such thoughts would come into my mind, my resolution would
soon be shaken by the remembrance that my dear mother was a slave in St.
Louis, and I could not bear the idea of leaving her in that condition.
She had often taken me upon her knee, and told me how she had carried me
upon her back to the field when I was an infant--how often she had been
whipped for leaving her work to nurse me--and how happy I would appear
when she would take me into her arms. When these thoughts came over me,
I would resolve never to leave the land of slavery without my mother. I
thought that to leave her in slavery, after she had undergone and
suffered so much for me, would be proving recreant to the duty which I
owed to her. Besides this, I had three brothers and a sister there,--two
of my brothers having died.
My mother, my brothers Joseph and Millford, and my sister Elizabeth,
belonged to Mr. Isaac Mansfield, formerly from one of the Free States,
(Massachusetts, I believe.) He was a tinner by trade, and carried on a
large manufacturing establishment. Of all my relatives, mother was
first, and sister next. One evening, while visiting them, I made some
allusion to a proposed journey to Canada, and sister took her seat by
my side, and taking my hand in hers, said, with tears in her eyes,--
"Brother, you are not going to leave mother and your dear sister here
without a friend, are you?"
I looked into her face, as the tears coursed swiftly down her cheeks,
and bursting into tears myself, said--
"No, I will never desert you and mother."
She clasped my hand in hers, and said--
"Brother, you have often declared that you would not end your days in
slavery. I see no possible way in which you can escape with us; and now,
brother, you are on a steamboat where there is some chance for you to
escape to a land of liberty. I beseech you not to let us hinder you. If
we cannot get our liberty, we do not wish to be the means of keeping you
from a land of freedom."
I could restrain my feelings no longer, and an outburst of my own
feelings, caused her to cease speaking upon that subject. In opposition
to their wishes, I pledged myself not to leave them in the hand of the
oppressor. I took leave of them, and returned to the boat, and laid down
in my bunk; but "sleep departed from my eyes, and slumber from my
eyelids."
A few weeks after, on our downward passage, the boat took on board, at
Hannibal, a drove of slaves, bound for the New Orleans market. They
numbered from fifty to sixty, consisting of men and women from eighteen
to forty years of age. A drove of slaves on a southern steamboat, bound
for the cotton or sugar regions, is an occurrence so common, that no
one, not even the passengers, appear to notice it, though they clank
their chains at every step. There was, however, one in this gang that
attracted the attention of the passengers and crew. It was a beautiful
girl, apparently about twenty years of age, perfectly white, with
straight light hair and blue eyes. But it was not the whiteness of her
skin that created such a sensation among those who gazed upon her--it
was her almost unparalleled beauty. She had been on the boat but a short
time, before the attention of all the passengers, including the ladies,
had been called to her, and the common topic of conversation was about
the beautiful slave-girl. She was not in chains. The man who claimed
this article of human merchandize was a Mr. Walker,--a well known
slave-trader, residing in St. Louis. There was a general anxiety among
the passengers and crew to learn the history of the girl. Her master
kept close by her side, and it would have been considered impudent for
any of the passengers to have spoken to her, and the crew were not
allowed to have any conversation with them. When we reached St. Louis,
the slaves were removed to a boat bound for New Orleans, and the history
of the beautiful slave-girl remained a mystery.
I remained on the boat during the season, and it was not an unfrequent
occurrence to have on board gangs of slaves on their way to the cotton,
sugar and rice plantations of the South.
Toward the latter part of the summer, Captain Reynolds left the boat,
and I was sent home. I was then placed on the farm under Mr. Haskell,
the overseer. As I had been some time out of the field, and not
accustomed to work in the burning sun, it was very hard; but I was
compelled to keep up with the best of the hands.
I found a great difference between the work in a steamboat cabin and
that in a corn-field.
My master, who was then living in the city, soon after removed to the
farm, when I was taken out of the field to work in the house as a
waiter. Though his wife was very peevish, and hard to please, I much
preferred to be under her control than the overseer's. They brought with
them Mr. Sloane, a Presbyterian minister; Miss Martha Tulley, a neice of
theirs from Kentucky; and their nephew William. The latter had been in
the family a number of years, but the others were all new-comers.
Mr. Sloane was a young minister, who had been at the South but a short
time, and it seemed as if his whole aim was to please the slaveholders,
especially my master and mistress. He was intending to make a visit
during the winter, and he not only tried to please them, but I think he
succeeded admirably. When they wanted singing, he sung; when they wanted
praying, he prayed; when they wanted a story told, he told a story.
Instead of his teaching my master theology, my master taught theology to
him. While I was with Captain Reynolds, my master "got religion," and
new laws were made on the plantation. Formerly, we had the privilege of
hunting, fishing, making splint brooms, baskets, &c. on Sunday; but this
was all stopped. Every Sunday, we were all compelled to attend meeting.
Master was so religious, that he induced some others to join him in
hiring a preacher to preach to the slaves.
CHAPTER V.
My master had family worship, night and morning. At night, the
slaves were called in to attend; but in the mornings, they had to be at
their work, and master did all the praying. My master and mistress were
great lovers of mint julep, and every morning, a pitcher-full was made,
of which they all partook freely, not excepting little master William.
After drinking freely all round, they would have family worship, and
then breakfast. I cannot say but I loved the julep as well as any of
them, and during prayer was always careful to seat myself close to the
table where it stood, so as to help myself when they were all busily
engaged in their devotions. By the time prayer was over, I was about as
happy as any of them. A sad accident happened one morning. In helping
myself, and at the same time keeping an eye on my old mistress, I
accidentally let the pitcher fall upon the floor, breaking it in pieces,
and spilling the contents. This was a bad affair for me; for as soon as
prayer was over, I was taken and severely chastised.
My master's family consisted of himself, his wife, and their nephew,
William Moore. He was taken into the family, when only a few weeks of
age. His name being that of my own, mine was changed, for the purpose of
giving precedence to his, though I was his senior by ten or twelve
years. The plantation being four miles from the city, I had to drive the
family to church. I always dreaded the approach of the Sabbath; for,
during service, I was obliged to stand by the horses in the hot broiling
sun, or in the rain, just as it happened.
One Sabbath, as we were driving past the house of D.D. Page, a gentleman
who owned a large baking establishment, as I was sitting upon the box of
the carriage, which was very much elevated, I saw Mr. Page pursuing a
slave around the yard, with a long whip, cutting him at every jump. The
man soon escaped from the yard, and was followed by Mr. Page. They came
running past us, and the slave perceiving that he would be overtaken,
stopped suddenly, and Page stumbled over him, and falling on the stone
pavement, fractured one of his legs, which crippled him for life. The
same gentleman, but a short time previous, tied up a woman of his, by
the name of Delphia, and whipped her nearly to death; yet he was a
deacon in the Baptist church, in good and regular standing. Poor
Delphia! I was well acquainted with her, and called to see her while
upon her sick bed; and I shall never forget her appearance. She was a
member of the same church with her master.
Soon after this, I was hired out to Mr. Walker; the same man whom I have
mentioned as having carried a gang of slaves down the river, on the
steamboat Enterprize. Seeing me in the capacity of steward on the boat,
and thinking that I would make a good hand to take care of slaves, he
determined to have me for that purpose; and finding that my master would
not sell me, he hired me for the term of one year.
When I learned the fact of my having been hired to a negro speculator,
or a "soul-driver" as they are generally called among slaves, no one can
tell my emotions. Mr. Walker had offered a high price for me, as I
afterwards learned, but I suppose my master was restrained from selling
me by the fact that I was a near relative of his. On entering the
service of Mr. Walker, I found that my opportunity of getting to a land
of liberty was gone, at least for the time being. He had a gang of
slaves in readiness to start for New Orleans, and in a few days we were
on our journey. I am at a loss for language to express my feelings on
that occasion. Although my master had told me that he had not sold me,
and Mr. Walker had told me that he had not purchased me, I did not
believe them; and not until I had been to New Orleans, and was on my
return, did I believe that I was not sold.
There was on the boat a large room on the lower deck, in which the
slaves were kept, men and women, promiscuously--all chained two and two,
and a strict watch kept that they did not get loose; for cases have
occurred in which slaves have got off their chains, and made their
escape at landing-places, while the boats were taking in wood;--and with
all our care, we lost one woman who had been taken from her husband and
children, and having no desire to live without them, in the agony of her
soul jumped overboard, and drowned herself. She was not chained.
It was almost impossible to keep that part of the boat clean.
On landing at Natchez, the slaves were all carried to the slave-pen, and
there kept one week, during which time, several of them were sold. Mr.
Walker fed his slaves well. We took on board, at St. Louis, several
hundred pounds of bacon (smoked meat) and corn-meal, and his slaves were
better fed than slaves generally were in Natchez, so far as my
observation extended.
At the end of a week, we left for New Orleans, the place of our final
destination, which we reached in two days. Here the slaves were placed
in a negro-pen, where those who wished to purchase could call and
examine them. The negro-pen is a small yard, surrounded by buildings,
from fifteen to twenty feet wide, with the exception of a large gate
with iron bars. The slaves are kept in the buildings during the night,
and turned out into the yard during the day. After the best of the stock
was sold at private sale at the pen, the balance were taken to the
Exchange Coffee House Auction Rooms, kept by Isaac L. McCoy, and sold at
public auction. After the sale of this lot of slaves, we left New
Orleans for St. Louis.
CHAPTER VI.
On our arrival at St. Louis, I went to Dr. Young, and told him
that I did not wish to live with Mr. Walker any longer. I was heart-sick
at seeing my fellow-creatures bought and sold. But the Dr. had hired me
for the year, and stay I must. Mr. Walker again commenced purchasing
another gang of slaves. He bought a man of Colonel John O'Fallon, who
resided in the suburbs of the city. This man had a wife and three
children. As soon as the purchase was made, he was put in jail for safe
keeping, until we should be ready to start for New Orleans. His wife
visited him while there, several times, and several times when she went
for that purpose was refused admittance.
In the course of eight or nine weeks Mr. Walker had his cargo of human
flesh made up. There was in this lot a number of old men and women, some
of them with gray locks. We left St. Louis in the steamboat Carlton,
Captain Swan, bound for New Orleans. On our way down, and before we
reached Rodney, the place where we made our first stop, I had to prepare
the old slaves for market. I was ordered to have the old men's whiskers
shaved off, and the grey hairs plucked out, where they were not too
numerous, in which case he had a preparation of blacking to color it,
and with a blacking-brush we would put it on. This was new business to
me, and was performed in a room where the passengers could not see us.
These slaves were also taught how old they were by Mr. Walker, and after
going through the blacking process, they looked ten or fifteen years
younger; and I am sure that some of those who purchased slaves of Mr.
Walker, were dreadfully cheated, especially in the ages of the slaves
which they bought.
We landed at Rodney, and the slaves were driven to the pen in the back
part of the village. Several were sold at this place, during our stay of
four or five days, when we proceeded to Natchez. There we landed at
night, and the gang were put in the warehouse until morning, when they
were driven to the pen. As soon as the slaves are put in these pens,
swarms of planters may be seen in and about them. They knew when Walker
was expected, as he always had the time advertised beforehand when he
would be in Rodney, Natchez, and New Orleans. These were the principal
places where he offered his slaves for sale.
When at Natchez the second time, I saw a slave very cruelly whipped. He
belonged to a Mr. Broadwell, a merchant who kept a store on the wharf.
The slave's name was Lewis. I had known him several years, as he was
formerly from St. Louis. We were expecting a steamboat down the river,
in which we were to take passage for New Orleans. Mr. Walker sent me to
the landing to watch for the boat, ordering me to inform him on its
arrival. While there, I went into the store to see Lewis. I saw a slave
in the store, and asked him where Lewis was. Said he, "They have got
Lewis hanging between the heavens and the earth." I asked him what he
meant by that. He told me to go into the warehouse and see. I went in,
and found Lewis there. He was tied up to a beam, with his toes just
touching the floor. As there was no one in the warehouse but himself, I
inquired the reason of his being in that situation. He said Mr.
Broadwell had sold his wife to a planter six miles from the city, and
that he had been to visit her,--that he went in the night, expecting to
return before daylight, and went without his master's permission. The
patrol had taken him up before he reached his wife. He was put in jail,
and his master had to pay for his catching and keeping, and that was
what he was tied up for.
Just as he finished his story, Mr. Broadwell came in, and inquired what
I was doing there. I knew not what to say, and while I was thinking what
reply to make, he struck me over the head with the cowhide, the end of
which struck me over my right eye, sinking deep into the flesh, leaving
a scar which I carry to this day. Before I visited Lewis, he had
received fifty lashes. Mr. Broadwell gave him fifty lashes more after I
came out, as I was afterwards informed by Lewis himself.
The next day we proceeded to New Orleans, and put the gang in the same
negro-pen which we occupied before. In a short time, the planters came
flocking to the pen to purchase slaves. Before the slaves were exhibited
for sale, they were dressed and driven out into the yard. Some were set
to dancing, some to jumping, some to singing, and some to playing cards.
This was done to make them appear cheerful and happy. My business was to
see that they were placed in those situations before the arrival of the
purchasers, and I have often set them to dancing when their cheeks were
wet with tears. As slaves were in good demand at that time, they were
all soon disposed of, and we again set out for St. Louis.
On our arrival, Mr. Walker purchased a farm five or six miles from the
city. He had no family, but made a housekeeper of one of his female
slaves. Poor Cynthia! I knew her well. She was a quadroon, and one of
the most beautiful women I ever saw. She was a native of St. Louis, and
bore an irreproachable character for virtue and propriety of conduct.
Mr. Walker bought her for the New Orleans market, and took her down with
him on one of the trips that I made with him. Never shall I forget the
circumstances of that voyage! On the first night that we were on board
the steamboat, he directed me to put her into a state-room he had
provided for her, apart from the other slaves. I had seen too much of
the workings of slavery, not to know what this meant. I accordingly
watched him into the state-room, and listened to hear what passed
between them. I heard him make his base offers, and her reject them. He
told her that if she would accept his vile proposals, he would take her
back with him to St. Louis, and establish her as his housekeeper at his
farm. But if she persisted in rejecting them, he would sell her as a
field hand on the worst plantation on the river. Neither threats nor
bribes prevailed, however, and he retired, disappointed of his prey.
The next morning, poor Cynthia told me what had past, and bewailed her
sad fate with floods of tears. I comforted and encouraged her all I
could; but I foresaw but too well what the result must be. Without
entering into any farther particulars, suffice it to say that Walker
performed his part of the contract, at that time. He took her back to
St. Louis, established her as his mistress and housekeeper at his farm,
and before I left, he had two children by her. But, mark the end! Since
I have been at the North, I have been credibly informed that Walker has
been married, and, as a previous measure, sold poor Cynthia and her four
children (she having had two more since I came away) into hopeless
bondage!
He soon commenced purchasing to make up the third gang. We took
steamboat, and went to Jefferson City, a town on the Missouri river.
Here we landed, and took stage for the interior of the State. He bought
a number of slaves as he passed the different farms and villages. After
getting twenty-two or twenty-three men and women, we arrived at St.
Charles, a village on the banks of the Missouri. Here he purchased a
woman who had a child in her arms, appearing to be four or five weeks
old.
We had been travelling by land for some days, and were in hopes to have
found a boat at this place for St. Louis, but were disappointed. As no
boat was expected for some days, we started for St. Louis by land. Mr.
Walker had purchased two horses. He rode one, and I the other. The
slaves were chained together, and we took up our line of march, Mr.
Walker taking the lead, and I bringing up the rear. Though the distance
was not more than twenty miles, we did not reach it the first day. The
road was worse than any that I have ever travelled.
Soon after we left St. Charles, the young child grew very cross, and
kept up a noise during the greater part of the day. Mr. Walker
complained of its crying several times, and told the mother to stop the
child's d----d noise, or he would. The woman tried to keep the child
from crying, but could not. We put up at night with an acquaintance of
Mr. Walker, and in the morning, just as we were about to start, the
child again commenced crying. Walker stepped up to her, and told her to
give the child to him. The mother tremblingly obeyed. He took the child
by one arm, as you would a cat by the leg, walked into the house, and
said to the lady,
"Madam, I will make you a present of this little nigger; it keeps such a
noise that I can't bear it."
"Thank you, sir," said the lady.
The mother, as soon as she saw that her child was to be left, ran up to
Mr. Walker, and falling upon her knees begged him to let her have her
child; she clung around his legs, and cried, "Oh, my child! my child!
master, do let me have my child! oh, do, do, do. I will stop its crying,
if you will only let me have it again." When I saw this woman crying for
her child so piteously, a shudder,--a feeling akin to horror, shot
through my frame. I have often since in imagination heard her crying for
her child:--
"O, master, let me stay to catch
My baby's sobbing breath,
His little glassy eye to watch,
And smooth his limbs in death,
And cover him with grass and leaf,
Beneath the large oak tree:
It is not sullenness, but grief,--
O, master, pity me!
The morn was chill--I spoke no word,
But feared my babe might die,
And heard all day, or thought I heard,
My little baby cry.
At noon, oh, how I ran and took
My baby to my breast!
I lingered--and the long lash broke
My sleeping infant's rest.
I worked till night--till darkest night,
In torture and disgrace;
Went home and watched till morning light,
To see my baby's face.
Then give me but one little hour--
O! do not lash me so!
One little hour--one little hour--
And gratefully I'll go."
Mr. Walker commanded her to return into the ranks with the other slaves.
Women who had children were not chained, but those that had none were.
As soon as her child was disposed of, she was chained in the gang.
The following song I have often heard the slaves sing, when about to be
carried to the far south. It is said to have been composed by a slave.
"See these poor souls from Africa
Transported to America;
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia,
Will you go along with me?
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia,
Come sound the jubilee!
See wives and husbands sold apart,
Their children's screams will break my heart;--
There's a better day a coming,
Will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming,
Go sound the jubilee!
O, gracious Lord! when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free;
Lord, break them slavery powers--
Will you go along with me?
Lord break them slavery powers,
Go sound the jubilee!
Dear Lord, dear Lord, when slavery'll cease,
Then we poor souls will have our peace;--
There's a better day a coming,
Will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming,
Go sound the jubilee!"