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
Finding that I could not eat, the old lady, who was a "Thompsonian,"
made me a cup of "composition," or "number six;" but it was so strong
and hot, that I called it "_number seven_" However, I soon found myself
at home in this family. On different occasions, when telling these
facts, I have been asked how I felt upon finding myself regarded as a
man by a white family; especially just having run away from one. I
cannot say that I have ever answered the question yet.
The fact that I was in all probability a freeman, sounded in my ears
like a charm. I am satisfied that none but a slave could place such an
appreciation upon liberty as I did at that time. I wanted to see mother
and sister, that I might tell them "I was free!" I wanted to see my
fellow slaves in St. Louis, and let them know that the chains were no
longer upon my limbs. I wanted to see Captain Price, and let him learn
from my own lips that I was no more a chattel, but a man! I was anxious,
too, thus to inform Mrs. Price that she must get another coachman. And I
wanted to see Eliza more than I did either Mr. or Mrs. Price!
The fact that I was a freeman--could walk, talk, eat and sleep as a
man, and no one to stand over me with the blood-clotted cowhide--all
this made me feel that I was not myself.
The kind friend that had taken me in was named Wells Brown. He was a
devoted friend of the slave; but was very old, and not in the enjoyment
of good health. After being by the fire awhile, I found that my feet had
been very much frozen. I was seized with a fever which threatened to
confine me to my bed. But my Thompsonian friends soon raised me,
treating me as kindly as if I had been one of their own children. I
remained with them twelve or fifteen days, during which time they made
me some clothing, and the old gentleman purchased me a pair of boots.
I found that I was about fifty or sixty miles from Dayton, in the State
of Ohio, and between one and two hundred miles from Cleaveland, on lake
Erie, a place I was desirous of reaching on my way to Canada. This I
know will sound strangely to the ears of people in foreign lands, but it
is nevertheless true. An American citizen was fleeing from a Democratic,
Republican, Christian government, to receive protection under the
monarchy of Great Britain. While the people of the United States boast
of their freedom, they at the same time keep three millions of their own
citizens in chains; and while I am seated here in sight of Bunker Hill
Monument, writing this narrative, I am a slave, and no law, not even in
Massachusetts, can protect me from the hands of the slaveholder!
Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he inquired what my name was
besides William. I told him that I had no other name. "Well," said he,
"thee must have another name. Since thee has got out of slavery, thee
has become a man, and men always have two names."
I told him that he was the first man to extend the hand of friendship to
me, and I would give him the privilege of naming me.
"If I name thee," said he, "I shall call thee Wells Brown, after
myself."
"But," said I, "I am not willing to lose my name of William. As it was
taken from me once against my will, I am not willing to part with it
again upon any terms."
"Then," said he, "I will call thee William Wells Brown."
"So be it," said I; and I have been known by that name ever since I
left the house of my first white friend, Wells Brown.
After giving me some little change, I again started for Canada. In four
days I reached a public house, and went in to warm myself. I there
learned that some fugitive slaves had just passed through the place. The
men in the bar-room were talking about it, and I thought that it must
have been myself they referred to, and I was therefore afraid to start,
fearing they would seize me; but I finally mustered courage enough, and
took my leave. As soon as I was out of sight, I went into the woods, and
remained there until night, when I again regained the road, and
travelled on until the next day.
Not having had any food for nearly two days, I was faint with hunger,
and was in a dilemma what to do, as the little cash supplied me by my
adopted father, and which had contributed to my comfort, was now all
gone. I however concluded to go to a farm-house, and ask for something
to eat. On approaching the door of the first one presenting itself, I
knocked, and was soon met by a man who asked me what I wanted. I told
him that I would like something to eat. He asked where I was from, and
where I was going. I replied that I had come some way, and was going to
Cleaveland.
After hesitating a moment or two, he told me that he could give me
nothing to eat, adding, "that if I would work, I could get something to
eat."
I felt bad, being thus refused something to sustain nature, but did not
dare tell him that I was a slave.
Just as I was leaving the door, with a heavy heart, a woman, who proved
to be the wife of this gentleman, came to the door, and asked her
husband what I wanted? He did not seem inclined to inform her. She
therefore asked me herself. I told her that I had asked for something to
eat. After a few other questions, she told me to come in, and that she
would give me something to eat.
I walked up to the door, but the husband remained in the passage, as if
unwilling to let me enter.
She asked him two or three times to get out of the way, and let me in.
But as he did not move, she pushed him on one side, bidding me walk in!
I was never before so glad to see a woman push a man aside! Ever since
that act, I have been in favor of "woman's rights!"
After giving me as much food as I could eat, she presented me with ten
cents, all the money then at her disposal, accompanied with a note to a
friend, a few miles further on the road. Thanking this angel of mercy
from an overflowing heart, I pushed on my way, and in three days arrived
at Cleaveland, Ohio.
Being an entire stranger in this place, it was difficult for me to find
where to stop. I had no money, and the lake being frozen, I saw that I
must remain until the opening of navigation, or go to Canada by way of
Buffalo. But believing myself to be somewhat out of danger, I secured an
engagement at the Mansion House, as a table waiter, in payment for my
board. The proprietor, however, whose name was E.M. Segur, in a short
time, hired me for twelve dollars per month; on which terms I remained
until spring, when I found good employment on board a lake steamboat.
I purchased some books, and at leisure moments perused them with
considerable advantage to myself. While at Cleaveland, I saw, for the
first time, an anti-slavery newspaper. It was the "Genius of Universal
Emancipation" published by Benjamin Lundy, and though I had no home, I
subscribed for the paper. It was my great desire, being out of slavery
myself, to do what I could for the emancipation of my brethren yet in
chains, and while on Lake Erie, I found many opportunities of "helping
their cause along."
It is well known, that a great number of fugitives make their escape to
Canada, by way of Cleaveland; and while on the lake, I always made
arrangement to carry them on the boat to Buffalo or Detroit, and thus
effect their escape to the "promised land." The friends of the slave,
knowing that I would transport them without charge, never failed to have
a delegation when the boat arrived at Cleaveland. I have sometimes had
four or five on board, at one time.
In the year 1842, I conveyed, from the first of May to the first of
December, sixty-nine fugitives over Lake Erie to Canada. In 1843, I
visited Maiden, in Upper Canada, and counted seventeen, in that small
village, who owed their escape to my humble efforts.
Soon after coming North, I subscribed for the Liberator, edited by that
champion of freedom, William Lloyd Garrison. I labored a season to
promote the temperance cause among the colored people, but for the last
three years, have been pleading for the victims of American slavery.
William Wells Brown.
Boston, Mass., June, 1847.