YALE

MEMOIR.

ABOUT a mile from Lexington, Ky., is an old-fashioned cot-
tage, surrounded by large trees, so as scarcely to be seen. The
piiazza that surrounds it is covered with clematis and other flow-
ers, with here and there a beautiful magnolia, giving taste and
magnificence to the rural appearance of the old farm mansion.
In the slave quarters, situated at the back part of this plantation,
I date my earliest recollection. I was born of a slave mother,
owned by Dr. John Young. My father was white, and a near
relation to the doctor. On my father's side, I am connected
with the Barbers and Wickliefs, the most aristocratic families of
whom the State of Kentucky can boast. Do not think, reader,
that because I mention the names of my influential and wealthy
relations, that I am proud of them; far from it. Had I been
consulted upon the subject, I would have come from a different
source.

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While I was yet in my boyhood, Dr. Young removed to the state of Missouri, and took with him forty-five or fifty slaves, among whom were my mother, three brothers, a sister and myself. He located himself in the interior of the State, sixty miles above St. Louis, in a beautiful and fertile valley, a mile from the river. A finer situation for a farm could scarcely have been selected in any part of the country. With a climate favorable to agriculture, and soil rich, the most splendid crops of tobacco, hemp, flax and grain, were produced on the new plantation.

Although Dr. Young was not thought to be the hardest of masters, he nevertheless employed, as an overseer, a man whose acts of atrocity could scarcely have been surpassed in any of the slave States. Grove Cook was a large, tall man, with rough features, red hair, grey eyes, and large, bushy eyebrows, which gave his face the appearance of a spaniel dog. Like most slave-drivers, Cook was addicted to drunkenness, and when the least intoxicated, would use the whip without mercy upon those with whom he came in contact. This was the man selected by Dr. Young to look after his plantation and superintend its affairs.

At an early age I was taken into the doctor's medical office, and set to work making ointment, pills, salves, plasters, and other compositions so universally dreaded by the sick. The doctor became the family physician for many of the planters, attending upon both masters and slaves.

Our new overseer had not been long on the plantation before he began to show that he was a hardened villain. Overseers at the South generally pride themselves upon their ability to *break* the stubborn spirit of the slave, and the man who should suffer a slave, male or female, to disobey a rule, without being able to flog him or her for such disobedience, would be immediately discharged by the proprietor. Ability to manage a negro is the first

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qualification for a good slave-driver. The doctor had, among his fifty slaves, a man named Randall, of stout frame, and more than six feet in height, and known as the most powerful slave on the farm. If there was heavy work to be done, Randall was always selected to do it; and his task was sure to be finished before any other person's. The doctor had flogged every slave on the place but Randall, and he would willingly have whipped him, but that he feared the undertaking, for Randall had often been heard to say, "No white man shall ever whip me; I will die first." Cook, from the time that he came upon the plantation, had frequently declared that he could and would flog any nigger that was put into the field to work under him.

Doctor Young having been elected to represent his district in the State Legislature, Cook took the entire management of the plantation. The Doctor had repeatedly told him not to attempt to whip Randall, but he was determined to try it. As soon as he was sole dictator, he thought the time had come to put his threats into execution. He soon began to find fault with Randall, and threatened to whip him if he did not do better. One day he gave him a very hard task,— more than he could possibly do,— and at night, the task not being performed, he told Randall that he should remember him the next morning.

On the following morning, after the hands had taken breakfast, Cook called out Randall and told him that he intended to whip him, and ordered him to cross his hands and be tied. The slave asked why he wished to whip him. He answered, because he had not finished his task the day previous. Randall said his task was too great, or he should have done it. Cook said it made no difference, he should whip him. The slave stood silent for a moment, and then said—"Mr. Cook, I have always tried to please you since you have been on the plantation, and I find that you are determined not to be pleased or satisfied with my

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6

work, let me do as well as I may. No man has laid hands on me to whip me for the last ten years, and I have long since come to the conclusion not to be whipped by any man living." Cook, finding by Randall's looks and gestures that he would resist, called three of the hands from their work, and commanded them to seize the insolent slave and tie him. The men stood still; they knew their fellow-slave to be a powerful man, and were afraid to grapple with him. As soon as Cook had ordered them to seize him, Randall turned to them and said — "Boys, you all know me; you know I can handle any three of you; and the man that lays hands on me shall die. This white man can't whip me himself, and therefore he has called you to help him." The overseer was unable to prevail upon them to aid him, and finally ordered them to go to their work.

Nothing was said to Randall for more than a week. One morning, however, while the hands were at work in the field, he came into it, accompanied by three friends of his, — Thompson, Woodbridge and Jones. They came up to where Randall was at work, and Cook ordered him to leave and go with them to the barn. He refused to go; whereupon he was attacked by the overseer and his companions, when he turned upon them, and laid them one after another prostrate before him. Woodbridge drew out his pistol and fired at him, and brought him to the ground. The others rushed upon him with their clubs, and beat him over the head and face until they succeeded in tying him. He was then taken to a barn and tied to a beam. Cook gave him above one hundred lashes with a heavy cowhide, had his wounds washed with salt and water, and left him tied during the night. The next day he was untied, and taken to a blacksmith's shop, and had a ball and chain attached to his leg. He was compelled to labor in the field, and perform the same amount of work other hands did.

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When the doctor returned home, he was pleased to find that Randall had been subdued in his absence, and highly praised the overseer for his good qualities as a *negro-breaker*.

The negro quarters were situated some distance from the master's mansion, or "great house," as it was called. The cabins were built of wood, with only one room, and no floor. The owner seldom provides bed and bedding for his slave, unless merely to give each one a coarse blanket; and those who are so fortunate as to get more than this, think themselves luxurious livers. The blowing of the horn and the ringing of the bell were the signals for Dr. Young's slaves to start in the morning to their daily toil, which lasted from twelve to fourteen hours.

Being employed either as house servant, or in my master's medical department, I was exempt from the call of the horn and bell. Nevertheless, my life was a hard one. Nearly related to the doctor, Mrs. Young was always punishing me for some supposed offence, which, after all, was only because she felt angry and humiliated at the idea of having her husband's "negro relations" in her sight. The nearer a slave approaches an Anglo-Saxon in complexion, the more he is abused by both owner and fellow-slaves. The owner flogs him to keep him "in his place," and the slaves hate him on account of his being whiter than themselves. Thus the complexion of a slave becomes a crime, and he is made to curse his father for the Anglo-Saxon blood that courses through his veins.

Doctor Young having been elected again to the State Legislature, and his political duties calling him from home, I was taken from my master's office and placed under Cook, the negro-driver, to work in the field. Not more than fifteen years of age, and of a tender constitution, I found my new situation a most unpleasant and difficult one to fill. Seeing me neatly dressed and doing light work about the office, the overseer had

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often expressed a wish to have the "white nigger" under his
charge. "I will tan your yellow jacket for you," said the negro-
driver, as I took my hoe and followed the other slaves to the
field. It was with pain that my mother saw me in the hands of
this drunken man. I had been in the field scarcely a week,
when Cook, for a pretended offence, took me to the barn, tied
me up, and inflicted a severe whipping upon me. In vain my
mother pleaded for me, and reminded the overseer that I was
too young to perform the heavy labors given to me.

In punishing the slaves, the overseer was always inventing
new modes of chastisement. On one occasion, Cook, in a fit of
anger because I did not keep up with the older hands in hoeing,
gave me a flogging, and then took me into a pasture, where the
sheep were grazing, and made me get down on my hands and
knees in front of an old ram, noted for his butting qualities.
As soon as the ram saw me in the butting attitude, he prepared
himself for a fight; and, squaring off, he gave a bleat and
sprang forward, hitting me in the forehead and knocking me
upon the ground. The wound inflicted upon me caused the
blood to gush from my nose. The overseer, and a few of his
friends who were present to see the fun, laughed heartily, and I
was sent back to work.

On the doctor's return from the Legislature, I was again
taken into the medical department. With my former experi-
ence, I was now able to give the doctor considerable assistance
in the management of the sick slaves, who were sent, from time
to time, from the neighboring plantations for treatment. Bleed-
ing, extracting teeth, and giving medicine to the slaves, were all
performed by me.

Sometimes I committed sad mistakes, through my ignorance
of the profession. On one occasion, being ordered by the doc-
tor to extract a slave's tooth, I laid the patient flat on his back

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DENTISTRY AT THE SOUTH - Page 8.

JOHNSTON

10

on the floor, got astraddle of his breast, put the rusty turn-keys
on the wrong tooth, and pulled with all my strength. The
result was, I took out a sound grinder, for which I came very
near getting a flogging.

Speculation and mismanagement had so far reduced the doc-
tor's finances, that he was compelled to sell some of his slaves
to repair his affairs; and my mother, my three brothers, and my
sister, were sold.

The last tidings that I had of my brothers was, that they had
been bought by a planter, and sent to his farm on the Yazoo
River. If still living, they are lingering out a miserable exist-
ence on a cotton, sugar, or rice plantation, in a part of the coun-
try where the life of the slave has no parallel in deeds of atro-
city. Nothing can be worse than slavery in Louisiana and Mis-
sissippi, on the banks of the noblest river in the world. A ride
down that beautiful stream on one of the Western floating pal-
aces, causes one's heart to ache at seeing humanity so degraded.
The rich plantations, waving with green and golden crops of
cane, are interspersed here and there by a cotton plantation, with
intervals of untrodden forests hanging over the banks, showing
Nature in her most luxuriant state. Nothing can exceed the
grandeur and beauty of the land thus cursed by the foul system
of negro slavery. Truly may it be said that this outrageous
and unnatural institution has monopolized the best soil and finest
climate in the New World.

Thus the early home of the slave is broken up, and he torn
from all that is near and dear. But why should I speak of
"Home" in connection with the slave? Home is the chief
school of human virtue. Its responsibilities, joys, sorrows,
smiles, tears, hopes, and solicitudes, form the chief interests of
human life. Go where a man may, home is the centre to which
his heart turns. The thought of his home nerves his arm and

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lightens his toil. For that his heart yearns when he is far off.
There he garners up his best treasures. God has ordained for
all men alike the highest earthly happiness, in providing for all
the sanctuary of home. Here the little child plucks its first
joy; and here youth and age gather life's rarest flowers, and
with them, wreathed in fadeless garlands, bedeck the halls of
memory. But the slave's home does not merit the name. To
him it is no sanctuary. It is open to violation, insult, outrage.
His children belong to another, are provided for by another, are
disposed of by another. The most precious burden with which
the heart can be charged, the happiness of his child, he must
not bear. He lives not for his family, but for a stranger. He
cannot improve their lot. His wife and daughter he cannot
shield from insult. They may be torn from him at another's
pleasure, sold as beasts of burden, sent he knows not whither,
sent where he cannot reach them, or even interchange inquiries
and messages of love. To the slave, marriage has no sanctity.
It may be dissolved in a moment at another's will. His wife,
son, and daughter may be lashed before his eyes, and not a
finger must be lifted in their defence.

Doctor Young having removed to St. Louis, and my mother
and sister being sold to Mr. Mansfield in that city, I frequently
saw them. A slave hunt took place soon after coming to this
place, that well illustrates the heartlessness of a community of
slaveholders. A slave owned by Major Ben. O'Fallon run away,
and the dogs were put upon his track; the chase lasted several
hours, and at last the fugitive took refuge in the large pond
back of the city. With the aid of the dogs and gun the poor
fellow was secured and again returned to the plantation.

The doctor purchased a fine plantation a few miles from St.
Louis, and the slaves were removed to it, and placed under the
charge of Mr. Cook, the overseer of whom I have already made

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A SLAVE HUNT. — Page 11.

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mention. The overseer experienced religion about this time, and joined the Duncards, a religious sect located at the South-west who baptize by immersion, dipping their converts three times. The overseer being an unprincipled scamp, noted for his drinking propensities and for cheating all with whom he dealt, a large number of persons assembled to witness the baptismal ceremony performed on the negro-driver. Some of the blacks are very superstitious, and are of opinion that the Lord will answer their prayers in any case when they ask for the extermination of bad men; so the day that the overseer was led to the pond to have his sins washed out, not less than nine of the oldest slaves went on their knees, and prayed that the cruel negro-driver might not come out of the water alive. Among the crowd that had come together was old Peter Swite, who kept a dram-shop, and who complained that Mr. Cook owed him several dollars for drink, but which the overseer denied. As John Mason, the minister, pulled the negro-driver up after dipping him the third time, old Peter took his pipe from his mouth and ered out at the top of his voice, "Douse him again, John! he's a dirty dog; I know him well; he never pays his debts." So the minister, either forgetting himself, or really thinking his convert needed the fourth dip, put the sinner once more under the water. This last plunge came near drowning him, for the man of God was much exhausted, and was scarcely able to lift the negro-driver out of the water, and the latter had taken two or three hearty drinks before he was drawn to the surface. Although the prayers of the slaves were not answered, they nevertheless took credit to themselves for the misstep of the minister. That night, the slaves on the whole plantation were in the highest glee; the opossums that had been lying in the frost were taken down and baked with sweet potatoes, and every voice ascended to God,

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either in prayer or in song, for the half success of their prayers at the baptism.

On the doctor's retiring from the practice of his profession, I was hired out to a slave-trader by the name of Walker, for the period of one year. Walker was an uncouth, ill-bred man, with little or no education. Before embarking as a negro-trader, he had been a dray-driver in St. Louis, and had earned, by his own hard labor, the capital with which he commenced in trade. Money was the only God he worshipped, and he knelt at no altar but that erected at the expense of suffering humanity. I shuddered at the idea of having such a man for a master, but there was no alternative.

In no situation could I have been placed to give me an opportunity of witnessing more scenes of cruelty and outrage than this. The trader had a number of slaves on hand, and immediately prepared to start with his human cattle for the New Orleans market. Between sixty and seventy men and women chained in pairs, with here and there a mother with a young child unchained, made up the first coffle. The speculator advertised in the Natchez, Vicksburg and New Orleans papers, that he would be there at a given time with a lot of healthy negroes, between fifteen and twenty-five years of age. He seldom, however, took down a gang of slaves without having some who were further advanced in years.

Soon after leaving St. Louis, I had to commence preparing the slaves for the market. The old men's grey hairs were plucked from their heads, and their whiskers shaved off clean; and where the white hairs were too numerous, hair dye was used to bring about the desired color. These old men and women were also told how old they were to be, when undergoing an examination by those who might wish to purchase.

Not less than four lots of slaves were purchased by this mon-

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ster in human shape, and resold further South, during the year that I was with this "soul-driver." On the arrival of the trader at New Orleans with his merchandise, swarms of planters and small speculators might be seen making their way to Mr. Walker's slave-pen.

This heartless, cruel, ungodly man, who neither loved his Maker nor feared Satan, was a fair representative of thousands of demons in human form that are engaged in buying and selling God's children. The more I saw of slavery, while with Walker, the more I hated it, and determined to free myself from its chains. The love of freedom is a sentiment natural to the human heart, and the want of it is felt by him who does not possess it. He feels it a reproach, and with this sting, this wounded pride, hating degradation, and looking forward to the cravings of the heart, the enslaved is always on the alert for an opportunity to escape from his oppressors and to avenge his wrongs. What greater injury and indignity can be offered to man, than to make him the bond-slave of his fellow-man?

I hailed with delight the expiration of the term for which I was let out to the slave-trader, and again returned home to the doctor's plantation. But I remained here only a few days. The doctor, being in want of money, resolved to sell me, and I was therefore transferred to the city, to be sold to the highest bidder. An opportunity, however, presented itself for me to make the attempt to escape, and I improved it. With my mother I crossed the Mississippi river at night to the Illinois side, and travelled night after night towards Canada.

No one can imagine how wearily the hours passed during the days we remained in the woods waiting for night to overshadow

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us. Most truly has the poet entered into the slave's feelings when he says, —

> "Star of the North! while blazing day
> Pours round me its full tide of light,
> And hides thy pale but faithful ray,
> I, too, lie hid, and long for night."

As we travelled towards a land of liberty my heart would at times leap for joy; at other times, being, as I was, almost continually on my feet, I felt as though I could go no further. But when I thought of slavery, with its democratic negro-whips, its republican chains, its well-trained bloodhounds, its pious, evangelical slaveholders,—when I thought of all this American hypocrisy, false democracy and religion, behind me, and the prospect of liberty before me, I was encouraged to press forward; my heart was strengthened, and I forgot that I was both tired and hungry.

But we were not destined to realize our hearts' fondest wishes. On missing us, the slaveholders put advertisements in the St. Louis newspapers, which had an extensive circulation in Illinois, besides sending printed handbills, by mail, to the postmasters in the towns through which it was expected we would pass. On the tenth day we determined to travel by day, thinking that we were out of the danger of being apprehended. We had, however, been on the road but a short time, when we were overtaken by three men, and arrested. None but one who has been a slave, and made the attempt to escape, and failed, can at all enter into the feelings of the fugitive who is caught and returned to the doom from which he supposed he had escaped. We were carried back to St. Louis, and safely lodged in prison until our masters should take us out.

Our stay in prison was short. My mother was sold, and sent to the New Orleans market, and I was purchased by Samuel

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Willi, a merchant residing in St. Louis. Mr. Willi hired me out to a steamer running between St. Louis and New Orleans.

Many sad scenes take place on one of these steamers, in which the slave's happiness is concerned. The recklessness of Southern travellers is scarcely to be equalled in any part of the world. During the second trip on this boat most of the passengers spent their time at the gaming tables.

Thousands of dollars change hands during a passage from Louisville or St. Louis to New Orleans on a Mississippi steamer, and many men, and even ladies, are completely ruined. "Go call my boy, steward," said Mr. Smith, as he took his cards one by one from the table. In a few moments a fine-looking, bright-eyed mulatto boy, apparently about fifteen years of age, was standing by his master's side at the table. "I will see you and five hundred dollars better," said Smith, as his servant Jerry approached the table. "What price do you set on that boy?" asked Johnson, as he took a roll of bills from his pocket. "He will bring a thousand dollars, any day, in the New Orleans market," replied Smith. "Then you bet the whole of the boy, do you?" "Yes." "I call you, then," said Johnson, at the same time spreading his cards out upon the table. "You have beat me," said Smith, as soon as he saw the cards. Jerry, who was standing on top of the table, with the bank notes and silver dollars round his feet, was now ordered to descend from the table. "You will not forget that you belong to me," said Johnson, as the young slave was stepping from the table to a chair. "No, sir," replied the chattel. "Now go back to your bed, and be up in time to-morrow morning to brush my clothes and clean my boots, do you hear?" "Yes, sir," responded Jerry, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

Smith took from his pocket the bill of sale, and handed it to

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GAMBLING AWAY A SLAVE. — Page 17.

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Johnson; at the same time saying, "I claim the right of redeeming that boy, Mr. Johnson. My father gave him to me when I came of age, and I promised not to part with him." "Most certainly, sir, the boy shall be yours whenever you hand me over a cool thousand," replied Johnson. The next morning, as the passengers were assembling in the breakfast saloons, and upon the guards of the vessel, and the servants were seen running about waiting upon or looking for their masters, poor Jerry was entering his new master's state-room with his boots. "Who do you belong to?" said a gentleman to an old black man, who came along leading a fine dog that he had been feeding. "When I went to sleep, last night, I belonged to Governor Lucas; but I understand that he is bin gambling all night, so I don't know who owns me dis morning." Such is the uncertainty of a slave's position. He goes to bed at night the property of the man with whom he has lived for years, and gets up in the morning the slave of some one whom he has never seen before! To behold five or six tables in a steamboat's cabin, with half-a-dozen men playing at cards, and money, pistols, bowie-knives, &c., all in confusion on the tables, is what may be seen at almost any time on the Mississippi river.

Mr. Willi becoming embarrassed, I was sold to Capt. Enoch Price, of St. Louis, and placed on his steamer, which also ran between the latter city and New Orleans. It will thus be seen that my opportunities for witnessing the various phases of slave-life were not diminished by the transfer.

Even after a lapse of more than twenty years my heart revolts at the thought of the crimes that I beheld while employed on the river.

But a few months previous to my escape from the South, during a trip to New Orleans, I witnessed a tragedy that I shall not soon forget. A slave mother had been put in the Vicks-

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burg prison for safe keeping. At the dusk of the evening previous to the day when she was to be sent off, as the old prison was being closed for the night, she suddenly darted past her keeper, and ran for her life. So unexpected was her escape that she had quite a number of rods the start before the keeper had secured the other prisoners, and rallied his assistants in pursuit. It was at an hour when, and in a part of the city where, horses could not be readily obtained for the chase; no bloodhounds were at hand to run down the flying woman; and for once it seemed as though there was to be a fair trial of speed and endurance between the slave and the slave-catcher. The keeper and his forces raised the hue and cry on her pathway close behind; but so rapid was the flight that the astonished citizens, as they poured forth from their dwellings to learn the cause of alarm, were only able to comprehend the nature of the case in time to fall in with the motley mass in pursuit, (as many a one did that night) to raise an anxious prayer to heaven, as they refused to join in the pursuit, that the panting fugitive might escape, and the merciless soul-dealer for once be disappointed of his prey. And now with the speed of an arrow — having passed the avenue — with the distance between her and her pursuers constantly increasing, this poor hunted female gained the bridge leading to the woods. Already did her heart begin to beat high with the hope of success. She had only to pass the bridge, and she could bury herself in a vast forest, just at the time when the curtain of night would close around her, and protect her from the pursuit of her enemies.

But God by his Providence had otherwise determined. He had determined that an appalling tragedy should be enacted that night, which should be an evidence, wherever it should be known, of the unconquerable love of liberty the heart may inherit; as well as a fresh admonition to the slave-dealer, of the

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cruelty and enormity of his crimes. Just as the pursuers crossed the bridge, they beheld three men slowly approaching from the other side. They immediately called to them to arrest the fugitive, whom they proclaimed a runaway slave. True to their instincts, as she came near they formed in line across the narrow bridge and prepared to seize her. Seeing escape impossible in that quarter, she stopped suddenly and turned upon her pursuers. On came the profane and ribald crew faster than ever, already exulting in her capture, and threatening punishment for her flight. For a moment she looked wildly and anxiously around to see if there was no hope of escape. On either hand, far down below, rolled the deep foamy waters, and before and behind the rapidly approaching step and noisy voices of pursuers, showing how vain would be any further effort for freedom. Her resolution was taken. She clasped her hands convulsively, and raised them, as she at the same time raised her eyes towards heaven, and begged for that mercy and compassion there which had been denied her on earth; and then, with a single bound, she vaulted over the railings of the bridge, and sunk for ever beneath the waves of the river!

While employed on this steamboat, I laid the plan by which I gained my freedom. During the last night that I served in slavery, I did not close my eyes a single moment in sleep. When not thinking of the future, my mind dwelt on the past. The thought of a dear mother, and an affectionate sister and three brothers, yet living under the dominion of whips and scourges, caused me to shed many tears. If I could have been assured that they were dead, I should have felt satisfied. But I imagined I saw my mother in the cotton field, followed by the merciless taskmaster. I thought of the probability of my sister and brothers being in the hands of negro-drivers or speculators, subjected to all the cruelties that the hateful institution

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DEATH OF THE SLAVE MOTHER. — Page 21.

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allows them to inflict; and these thoughts made me feel very sad indeed.

At last the trying moment came. It was the first day of January, 1834, when, without a shilling in my pocket and no friend to advise me, I quitted my master's boat, and, taking the North Star for my guide, started for Canada. During fifteen nights did I urge my weary limbs to carry me on towards a land of freedom. Supposing every person to be my enemy, I was afraid to appeal to any one even for a little food to keep body and soul together. As I pressed forward, my escape to Canada appeared certain, and this feeling gave me a light heart, for

> "Behind I left the whips and chains,
> Before me were sweet Freedom's plains."

While on my journey at night, and passing farms, I would seek a corn-crib and supply myself with some of its contents. The next day, while buried in the forest, I would make a fire and roast my corn, and drink from the nearest stream. One night, while in search of corn, I came upon what I supposed to be a hill of potatoes, buried in the ground for want of a cellar. I obtained a sharp-pointed piece of wood, with which I dug away for more than an hour, and, on gaining the hidden treasure, found it to be turnips. However, I did not dig for nothing. After supplying myself with about half-a-dozen of the turnips, I again resumed my journey. This uncooked food was indeed a great luxury, and gave strength to my fatigued limbs. The weather was very cold; so cold that it drove me one night into a barn, where I laid in the hay until morning. A storm overtook me when about a week out. The rain fell in torrents, and froze as it came down. My clothes became stiff with ice. Here again I took shelter in a barn, and walked about to keep from freezing. Nothing but the fear of being arrested and returned

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to slavery prevented me, at this time, seeking shelter in some
dwelling. Even when in this forlorn condition, I would occa-
sionally find myself repeating—

> "I'll be free! I'll be free! and none shall confine
> With fetters and chains, this free spirit of mine;
> From my youth have I vowed in my God to rely,
> And, despite the oppressor, gain freedom or die!"

Dreary were the hours that I spent while escaping from Amer-
ica's greatest evil.

Several farmers with their teams passed, but the appearance
of each one frightened me out of the idea of asking for assist-
ance. After lying on the ground for some time, with my sore,
frost-bitten feet benumbed with cold, I saw an old, white-haired
man, dressed in a suit of drab, with a broad-brimmed hat, walk-
ing along, leading a horse. The man was evidently walking for
exercise. I came out from my hiding-place and told the stran-
ger I must die unless I obtained some assistance. A moment's
conversation satisfied the old man that I was one of the oppressed
fleeing from the house of bondage. From the difficulty with
which I walked, the shivering of my limbs and the trembling of
my voice, he became convinced that I had been among thieves,
and he acted the part of a Good Samaritan. This was the first
person I had ever seen of the religious sect called "Quakers."

At the farm-house of this good man, where many a poor fugi-
tive slave had before found a resting-place for his jaded feet, I
was treated with the kindest care, until I was so far recovered as
to resume my journey. The members of no religious society
are more noted for their good works than the Friends. They
are distinguished for the kindness with which they always receive
the runaway slave. Having, many years ago, as a religious so-
ciety, condemned slavery and disfellowshipped slaveholders, they
occupy a position before the world that few other sectarian bodies

25

can claim. Never before having met with whites to sympathize
with me and treat me as a man, I was overwhelmed with sur-
prise at the interest the Quaker and his family took in me.

> "How softly on the bruised heart
> A word of kindness falls,
> And to the dry and parchéd soul
> The moistening tear-drop calls."

When once more well enough to travel, the good people in
the neighborhood began to fit me out with clothing, so that I
would be better able to reach the "other side of Jordan."
Slavery had denied me but one name, and the good old Quaker
felt moved to share his with me. I left his house under the
name of William Wells Brown.

Arriving in Cleveland in the winter, I worked for my board
till the opening of navigation on Lake Erie, when I obtained a
situation on one of the steamers. Here I labored during the
summer; and the captain running off in the autumn without
paying me, I was left again penniless, and had to go in search
of employment for the winter.

I went to the town of Monroe, in the state of Michigan, and
while going through the streets, looking for work, I passed the
door of the only barber in the town, whose shop appeared to be
filled with persons waiting to be shaved. As there was but one
man at work, and as I had, while employed on the steamer, occa-
sionally shaved a gentleman who could not perform that office him-
self, it occurred to me that I might get employment here as a
journeyman barber. I therefore made immediate application for
work, but the barber told me he did not need a hand. How-
ever, I was not to be put off so easily; and after making several
offers to work cheap, I frankly told him that if he would not
employ me, I would get a room near to him, and set up an oppo-
sition establishment. This threat made no impression on the

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barber, and as I was leaving, one of the men who were waiting to be shaved said, "If you want a room in which to commence business, I have one on the opposite side of the street." This gentleman followed me out, we went over, and I looked at the room. He strongly urged me to set up, at the same time promising to give me his influence. I took the room, purchased an old table and two chairs, got a pole with a red stripe painted around it, and the next day opened, with a sign over the door,— "Fashionable Hair-Dresser from New York — Emperor of the West." I need not add that my enterprise was very annoying to the "shop over the way:" especially my sign, which happened to be the most extensive part of the concern. Of course I had to tell all who came in that my neighbor on the opposite side did not keep clean towels, that his razors were dull, and, above all, that he had never been to New York to see the fashions. Neither had I! In a few weeks I had the entire business of the town, to the great discomfiture of the other barber.

At this time money matters in the Western States were in a sad condition. Any person who could raise a small amount of money was permitted to establish a bank, and allowed to issue notes for four times the sum raised. This being the case, many persons borrowed money merely long enough to exhibit to the bank inspectors, then the borrowed money was returned, and the bank left without a dollar in its vaults, if, indeed, it had a vault about its premises. The result was, that banks were started all over the Western States, and the country flooded with worthless paper. These were known as "wild-cat banks." Silver coin being very scarce, and the banks not being allowed to issue notes for a smaller amount than one dollar, several persons put out notes from six to seventy-five cents in value. These were called "shin-plasters." The "shin-plaster" was in the shape of a promissory note, made payable on demand. I have

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often seen persons with large rolls of these bills, the whole not amounting to more than five dollars. Some weeks after I had commenced business on my "own hook," I was one evening very much crowded with visitors; and while they were talking over the events of the day, one of them said to me, — "Emperor, you seem to be doing a thriving business; you should do as other men of business, issue your shin-plasters." This, of course, as it was intended, created a laugh; but with me it was no laughing matter, for from that moment I began to think seriously of becoming a banker. I accordingly went, a few days after, to a printer, and he, wishing to get a job of printing, urged me to put out my notes, and showed me some specimens of engravings that he had just received from Detroit. My head being already filled with the idea of a bank, I needed but little persuasion to set the thing finally afloat. Before I left the printer, my notes were partly in type, and I studying how I should keep the public from counterfeiting them.

The next day, my "shin-plasters" were handed to me, the whole amount being twenty dollars, and after being duly signed, were ready for circulation. At first, my notes did not take well; they were too new, and viewed with a suspicious eye. But, through the assistance of my customers, and a good deal of exertion on my own part, my bills were soon in circulation; and nearly all the money received in return for them was spent in fitting up and decorating my shop. Few bankers get through this world without their difficulties, and I was not to be an exception. A short time after my money had been out, a party of young men, either wishing to pull down my vanity, or to try the soundness of my bank, determined to give it "a run." After collecting together a number of my bills, they came, one at a time, to demand other money for them; and I, not being aware of what was going on, was taken by surprise. As I was sitting

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at my table, strapping some new razors I had just got with the
avails of my "shin-plasters," one of the men entered and said,
"Emperor, you will oblige me if you will give me some other
money for these notes of yours." I immediately cashed the
notes with some of the most worthless of the "wild-cat" money
that I had on hand, but which was a lawful tender. The young
man had scarcely left, when a second appeared with a similar
amount, and demanded payment. These were paid, and soon a
third came, with his roll of notes. I paid these with an air of
triumph, though I had but half a dollar left. I now began to
think seriously what I should do, or how I should act, provided
another demand should be made. While I was thus engaged in
thought, I saw a fourth man crossing the street with a handful
of notes, evidently my "shin-plasters." I instantaneously shut
the door, and, looking out of the window, said, "I have closed
business for the day; come to-morrow, and I will see you."
On looking across the street, I saw my rival standing in his shop
door, grinning and clapping his hands at my apparent downfall.
I was completely "done Brown" for the day. However, I
was not to be "used up" in this way; so I escaped by the
back door, and went in search of my friend who had first sug-
gested to me the idea of issuing notes. I found him, and told
him of the difficulty I was in, and wished him to point out the
way by which I could extricate myself. He laughed heartily,
and then said, "You must do as all bankers do in this part of
the country." I inquired how they did, and he said, "When
your notes are brought to you, you must redeem them, and then
send them out and get other money for them, and with the lat-
ter you can keep cashing your own shin-plasters." This was a
new idea to me. I immediately commenced putting in circula-
tion the notes which I had just redeemed, and my efforts were
crowned with so much success, that before I slept that night, my

29

"shin-plasters" were again in circulation, and my bank once
more on a sound basis.

In 1844 I took an agency for the American Anti-Slavery
Society, and lectured in the New England States until 1849,
when I sailed for England. I landed at Liverpool, and went at
once to Dublin, where I spent three or four weeks, and then
started for Paris. In London, I received the following passport
from the Hon. Abbot Lawrence, then minister at the Court of
St. James : —

LEGATION OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN ENGLAND.

PASSPORT NO. 33.

The undersigned, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America, at the Court of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, begs all whom it may concern to allow safely and freely to pass, and in case of need to give aid and protection to, MR. WILLIAM WELLS BROWN, a citizen of the United States, going on the Continent.

Given under my signature, and the imprint of the seal of the legation in London, Oct. 31, 1849, the seventy-fourth year of the independence of the United States.

For the Minister,

JOHN C. B. DAVIS,

Secretary of Legation.

Thus it will be seen that as late as 1849, colored persons
were recognized as citizens of the United States.

I travelled extensively in Europe during the five years that I
remained abroad. In the spring of 1854, a few of my friends
in Great Britain, wishing to secure to me the right of returning
to America without being molested by the Fugitive Slave Law,
negotiated with Captain Price for my liberation, with the follow-
ing result : —

"Know all men by these presents, That I, Enoch Price, of the city and county of St. Louis and State of Missouri, for and in consideration of the sum of three hundred dollars, to be paid to Joseph Greely, my agent in Boston, Mass., by Miss Ellen

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Richardson, or her agent, on the delivery of this paper, do emancipate, set free, and liberate from slavery, a mulatto man named William Wells Brown, that I purchased of Samuel Willi on the 2d October, 1833; I do acknowledge that no other person holds any claim on him as a slave but myself.

"In witness whereof, I hereunto set my hand and seal, this 24th day of April, 1854.

"ENOCH PRICE.

"Witness,
{ OLIVER HARRIS,
JOHN A. HASSON."

"STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS, ss.

"In the St. Louis Circuit Court,
April Term, 1854. April 25th. }

"Be it remembered, That on this 25th day of April, eighteen hundred and fifty-four, in the open Court, came Enoch Price, who is personally known to the Court to be the same person whose name is subscribed to the foregoing instrument of writing as a party thereto, and he acknowledged the same to be his act and deed, for the purposes therein mentioned; which said acknowledgment is entered on the record of the Court of that day.

"In testimony whereof, I hereto set my hand and affix the seal of said Court, at office in the city of St. Louis, the day and year last afore said.

"WM. J. HAMMOND, Clerk."

"I, Wm. J. Hammond, Clerk of the Circuit Court in and for the county aforesaid, certify the foregoing to be a true and correct copy of the Deed of Emancipation from Enoch Price to William Wells Brown, as fully as the same remains in my office.

"In testimony whereof, I hereto set my hand and affix the seal of said Court, at office in the city of St. Louis, this 25th day of April, eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

"WM. J. HAMMOND, Clerk."

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"I, Alexander Hamilton, sole Judge of the Circuit Court within and for the Eighth Judicial Circuit of the State of Missouri (composed of the County of St. Louis), certify that William J. Hammond, whose name is subscribed to the foregoing certificate, was at the date thereof, and now is, Clerk of the Circuit Court within and for the County of St. Louis, duly elected and qualified; that his said certificate is in due form of law, and that full faith and credit are and should be given to all such his official acts.

"Given under my hand, at the city of St. Louis, this 26th day of April, eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

"A. HAMILTON, Judge."

"July 7th, 1854.—I have received this day Wm. I. Bowditch's check on the Globe Bank for three hundred dollars, in full for the consideration of the foregoing instrument of emancipation.

JOSEPH GREENLY."

I returned home in September, 1854, and landed at Philadelphia. I conclude this memoir by giving the following paragraph from *The Anti-Slavery Standard* :—

"A meeting was held in the brick Wesley Church, which was crowded to its utmost capacity with the friends of Mr. Brown, and the public generally, to extend to him the most cordial token of regard. The fact that he had faithfully and nobly represented his enslaved countrymen, while in Europe, was too obvious, in the estimation of those who had assembled to welcome and greet him on his return, to admit of a shadow of doubt. During the five years that Mr. Brown had passed in Europe, his numerous friends, especially the colored man, have had great cause of satisfaction and gratification in looking over his labors; as a lecturer, presenting the claims of his brethren in bonds; as an author, constantly using his pen in enlightening the British people on the monstrous iniquities of slavery, and

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likewise contributing to the demands of literature and knowl-
edge in other respects—two of his works having been published
and creditably noticed by the press of Great Britain.

“Robert Purvis, Esq., one of the most devoted friends of the
slave, presided over the meeting, and, at its close, the following
resolutions were unanimously adopted : —

“*Resolved*, That we rejoice in the opportunity afforded by
this meeting of greeting our friend William Wells Brown, on
his return to this country, and that we hereby avail ourselves of
it to extend to him our heartiest assurance of welcome.

“*Resolved*, That our thanks are due to Mr. Brown for the
zeal and fidelity with which he has advocated the cause of free-
dom, and the interests of the colored man, in Great Britain, and
that we are severally grateful to him for leaving a country where
a black man labors under no disabilities, and where there is no
prejudice against color, to return to this land of slavery, and
labor for the disenthralment of his brethren from the hate of the
white man and the chains of the slaveholder.”

“At Boston, a meeting was held in the Meionaon, at which Francis Jackson, Esq., the staunch friend of humanity, presided. Speeches were made by William Lloyd Garrison, William C. Nell, and Wendell Phillips. The last-named speaker, in welcoming Mr. Brown, said, — ‘I rejoice that our friend Brown went abroad; I rejoice still more that he has returned. The years any thoughtful man spends abroad must enlarge his mind, and store it richly. But such a visit is, to a colored man, more than merely intellectual education. He lives, for the first time, free from the blighting chill of prejudice. He see no society, no institution, no place of resort or means of comfort, from which his color debars him.’”

“After mentioning some amusing instances of the surprise of
Americans at this absence of prejudice abroad, Mr. Phillips

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said,—‘We have to thank our friend for the fidelity with which
he has, amid many temptations, stood by those whose good
name religious prejudice is trying to undermine in great Britain.
That land is not all Paradise to the colored man. Too many of
them allow themselves to be made tools of the most subtle foes
of their race. We recognize, to-night, the clear-sightedness and
fidelity of Mr. Brown's course abroad, not only to thank him,
but to assure our friends there that this is what the Abolitionists
of Boston endorse.'

“Mr. Phillips proceeded: — ‘I still more rejoice that Mr. Brown has returned. Returned to what? Not to what he can call his ‘country.’ The white man comes ‘home.’ When Milton heard, in Italy, the sound of arms from England, he hastened back — young, enthusiastic, and bathed in beautiful art as he was in Florence. ‘I would not be away,’ he said, ‘when a blow was struck for liberty.’ He came to a country where his manhood was recognized, to fight on equal footing. The black man comes home to no liberty but the liberty of suffering — to struggle in fetters for the welfare of his race. It is a magnanimous sympathy with his blood that brings such a man back. I honor it. We meet to do it honor. Franklin’s motto was, *Ubi Libertas, ibi patria* — Where liberty is, there is my country. Had our friend adopted that for his rule, he would have stayed in Europe. Liberty for him is there. The colored man who returns, like our friend, to labor, crushed and despised, for his race, sails under a higher flag: his motto is, ‘Where my country is, there will I bring liberty!’”

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# APPENDIX.

The following are but a few of the many friendly greetings that Mr. Brown received during his sojourn in the old world:

## AN ADDRESS FROM THE LADIES OF BOLTON.

“DEAR FRIEND AND BROTHER, — We cannot permit you to depart from among us without giving expression to the feelings which we entertain towards yourself personally, and to the sympathy which you have awakened in our breasts for the three millions of our sisters and brothers who still suffer and groan in the prison house of American bondage. You came among us an entire stranger; we received you for the sake of your mission; and having heard the story of your personal wrongs, and gazed with horror on the atrocities of slavery, as seen through the medium of your touching descriptions, we are resolved henceforward, in reliance on divine assistance, to render what aid we can to the cause which you have so eloquently pleaded in our presence. We have no words to express our detestation of the crimes which, in the name of Liberty, are committed in the country which gave you birth. Language fails to tell our deep abhorrence of the impiety of those who, in the still more sacred name of Religion, rob immortal beings, not only of an earthly citizenship, but do much to prevent them from obtaining a heavenly one: and as mothers and daughters we embrace this opportunity of giving utterance to our utmost indignation at the cruelties perpetrated upon our sex by a people professedly acknowledging the equality of all mankind. Carry with you, on your return to the land of your nativity, this our solemn protest against the wicked institution which, like a dark and baleful cloud, hangs over it; and ask the unfeeling enslavers, as best you can, to open the prison doors to them that are bound, and let the oppressed go free. Allow us to assure you that your brief sojourn in our town has been to ourselves, and to vast multitudes, of a character long to be remembered; and when you are far removed from us, and toiling, as we hope you may long be spared to do, in this righteous enterprise, it may be some solace to your mind to know that your name is cherished with affectionate regard,

and that the blessing of the Most High is earnestly supplicated in behalf of yourself and family, and the cause to which you have consecrated your distinguished talents.” [Signed by 200 ladies.]

After delivering a lecture before the London Metropolitan Athenæum, the managing Committee instructed the Secretary to thank Mr. Brown, which he did in the following note: —

“METROPOLITAN ATHENÆUM,
189 Strand, June 21st. }

“MY DEAR SIR, — I have much pleasure in conveying to you the best thanks of the Managing Committee of this institution for the excellent lecture you gave here last evening, and also in presenting you, in their names, with an honorary membership of the Club. It is hoped that you will often avail yourself of its privileges by coming amongst us. You will then see by the cordial welcome of the members, that they protest against the odious distinctions made between man and man, and the abominable traffic of which you have been a victim. For my own part, I shall be happy to be serviceable to you in any way, and at all times be glad to place the advantages of the institution at your disposal.

“I am, my dear sir, yours, truly,

“WILLIAM STRUDWICKE, Secretary.

“Mr. W. WELLS BROWN.”

The following are some of the criticisms on Mr. Brown's book published in London, entitled “Three Years in Europe.”

The *Morning Advertiser*, in its review, said : — “This remarkable book of a remarkable man cannot fail to add to the practical protests already entered in Britain against the absolute bondage of three millions of our fellow-creatures. The impressions of a self-educated son of slavery, here set forth, must hasten the period when the senseless and impious denial of common claims to a common humanity, on the score of color, shall be scouted with scorn in every civilized and Christian country. And when this shall be attained, among the means of destruction of the hideous abomination, his compatriots will remember with respect and gratitude the doings and sayings of William Wells Brown.

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The London *Literary Gazette*, in speaking of the book, remarked : — "The appearance of this book is too remarkable a literary event to pass without a notice. Altogether Mr. Brown has written a pleasing and amusing volume, and we are glad to bear this testimony to the literary merit of a work by a negro author."

"That a man," said the *Morning Chronicle*, "who was a slave for the first twenty years of his life, and who has never had a day's schooling, should produce such a book as this, can-not but astonish those who speak disparagingly of the African race."

The *London Critic* pronounced it a "pleasingly and well written book." "It is," said the *Athenæum*, "racy and amusing." The *Eclectic Review*, in its long criticism, has the following : — "The extraordinary excitement produced by 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' will, we hope, prepare the public of Great Britain and America for this lively book of travels by a real fugitive slave. Though he never had a day's schooling in his life, he has produced a literary work not unworthy of a highly-educated gentleman. Our readers will find in these letters much instruction, not a little entertainment, and the beatings of a manly heart on behalf of a down-trodden race, with which they will not fail to sympathize."

The *Glasgow Citizen*, in its review, remarked : — "W. Wells Brown is no ordinary man, or he could not have so remarkably surmounted the many difficulties and impediments of his training as a slave. By dint of resolution, self-culture and force of character, he has rendered himself a popular lecturer to a British audience, and a vigorous expositor of the evils and atrocities of that system whose chains he has shaken off so triumphantly and for ever. We may safely pronounce William Wells Brown a remarkable man, and a full refutation of the doctrine of the inferiority of the negro."

The *Glasgow Examiner* said : — "This is a thrilling book, independent of adventitious circumstances, which will enhance its popularity. The author of it is not a man in America, but a chattel, — a thing to be bought and sold and whipped ; but in Europe he is an author, and a successful one, too. He gives in this book an interesting and graphic description of a three years' residence in Europe. The book will no doubt obtain, as it well deserves, a rapid and wide popularity."