Mary S. Peake Part 1

Mary S. Peake.

by Lewis C. Lockwood.

CHAPTER I.

Birth and Parentage.--Education.--Religious Convictions.--Prayers in the Tomb.--Union with the Church.--Labors for the Poor.--Marriage.

The subject of this narrative was born in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1823.

Her maiden name was Mary Smith Kelsey. Her mother was a free colored woman, very light, and her father a white man--an Englishman of rank and culture. She was a very lovely child in person and manners, and as she grew up, developed traits of character which made her a universal favorite.

When she was six years old, her mother sent her to Alexandria, for the purpose of attending school. She remained there in school about ten years, residing with her aunt, Mary Paine. Mrs. Paine occupied a house belonging to Mr. Rollins Fowle, and near his residence. This gentleman and his family were distinguished for their kindness to colored people. He frequently bought slaves who were in danger of being sold into bad hands, gave them their freedom, and set them up in business. John Paine, Mary's uncle, was one whom he freed in this way.

Mary was a great pet in Mr. Fowle's family, and was treated almost like a daughter.

A schoolmate of hers, now residing in Providence, Rhode Island, says Mary was a very amiable girl, and a good student. They for a time attended a select colored school taught by a colored woman. Afterward they attended a colored school taught by white teachers. The last teacher was Mr. Nuthall, an Englishman. He taught till a law of Congress enacted that the law of Virginia in relation to free colored people should prevail in the District of Columbia. This was several years before Alexandria was retroceded to Virginia. This law closed all colored schools in the city. Mary was compelled to leave the school in consequence of being informed of as having come from Virginia.

While at school, Mary acquired a good English education, and, in addition to this, a knowledge of various kinds of needlework, and also dress-making. Her aunt was a devoted Christian, and no doubt had a very happy influence on Mary. Her mother also was converted when Mary was two or three years old. Under these influences she was early the subject of serious impressions. Though fond of general reading and study, there was no book she loved so well as the Bible. This was her companion and text book, and she committed large portions of it to memory.

When sixteen years old, having finished her education, she returned to her mother, at Norfolk. Soon afterward, those religious elements which had existed from early childhood--grown with her growth and strengthened with her strength--became dominant by the grace of G.o.d, and a.s.serted their power over her.

Near her residence was a garden, connected with a large old mansion, between Fenchurch and Church Streets. In this garden was a dilapidated family tomb. It was impressed on her mind that she must go into this tomb to pray. At the dead hour of night she sought this gloomy abode of moldering coffins and scattered bones. As she entered and knelt in the death cell, she trembled with a fear which her prayers could not dissipate. Quickly and stealthily she retraced her steps, and hurried back to her home. Yet the next night, this girl of sixteen had the courage to seek the dismal place again, and the next night yet again, with similar results. But at length light broke upon the darkness of the tomb, and it became a place of delightful communion with her Lord; whence it was afterward called "Mary's parlor." At the midnight hour, she left the tomb, and broke the silence of the night with a jubilant song, fearless of the patrol. The song was this strain of Watts, in which many a saint has poured forth his soul:--

"Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears, And gird the gospel armor on; March to the gates of endless joy, Where Jesus, thy great Captain, 's gone.

"h.e.l.l and thy sins resist thy course, But h.e.l.l and sin are vanquished foes; Thy Jesus nailed them to the cross, And sung the triumph when he rose.

"Then let my soul march boldly on, Press forward to the heavenly gate; There peace and joy eternal reign, And glittering robes for conquerors wait.

"There shall I wear a starry crown, And triumph in almighty grace; While all the armies of the skies Join in my glorious Leader's praise."

This strain fell on the waking ears of ladies in the house adjacent to the tomb, and they inquired, "What sweet music is that? Who is serenading at this hour?" Little did they know the spirit-promptings of that song.

Soon after this, Mary went to visit some friends in Hampton. As she entered the yard, and approached the house, she sang another expressive hymn of Watts:--

"Firm as the earth thy gospel stands, My Lord, my Hope, my Trust; If I am found in Jesus' hands, My soul can ne'er be lost.

"His honor is engaged to save The meanest of his sheep; All whom his heavenly Father gave His hands securely keep.

"Nor death nor h.e.l.l shall e'er remove His favorites from his breast; Safe on the bosom of his love Shall they for ever rest."

Her friends opened the door at the sound of the tender music, and as they looked on her face, and listened to her song, they were overcome, and could not restrain their emotions.

Soon afterward, she united with the First Baptist Church in Norfolk, on Bute Street. The pastor was Rev. James A. Mitch.e.l.l, who served the church from the time of Nat Turner's insurrection till his death, about 1852. He was emphatically a good man, and a father to the colored people--a very Barnabas, "son of consolation" indeed. A considerable portion of his church were colored people, and he would visit them at their houses, take meals with them, and enter into their affairs, temporal and spiritual, with a true and zealous heart. He never loved slavery; his private opinion was against it, but he was obliged to be cautious in the expression of his sentiments. He endured great trials for this proscribed cla.s.s, and was almost a martyr in their behalf, his pastorate having begun just after Nat Turner's insurrection, which caused great persecution and restriction of privileges. But the Lord was with him, and made him to triumph.

Mary's mother says that she delighted to visit the poor in Norfolk, and especially the aged. A very old man, in the suburbs, often came to her door, and never went empty away; and frequently at evening she would go and carry him warm tea, and in the winter she brought him wood in small armfuls. When he died, he said he wanted Mary to have all that belonged to him. Though he was scarcely worth three cents, it was a rich heart gift.

Her Christian course was marked with usefulness. Self-denying devotion to the glory of G.o.d and the good of others characterized her earlier, as her later career. A deacon of the church on whom the writer called when recently in Norfolk, says she had a strong desire for the conversion of souls, and was often found exhorting them to repentance.

Other members of the church bore the highest testimony to her uniform Christian deportment.

In 1847, Mary's mother was married to Thompson Walker, and bought a house in Hampton, where they resided until the town was burned by the rebels in 1861. Though sustaining herself by her needle, Mary found time for many labors of love. Among other things, she originated a benevolent society, called the "Daughters of Zion," designed for ministration to the poor and the sick. It is still in existence.

Her house, like that of Mary and Martha of old, was a place of spiritual resort. There the pastor, deacons, and other leading members of the church found congenial society. She early began the exercise of her gifts as a teacher. At that time, fifteen years ago, she had among her pupils Thompson Walker, her stepfather, William Thornton, and William Davis, all now able and eloquent exhorters. She was afterward of great service to others, who are now efficient exhorters and members of the church. Up to the time of the burning of Hampton, she was engaged in instructing children and adults, through her shrewdness and the divine protection eluding the vigilance of conservators of the slave law, or, if temporarily interfered with, again commencing and prosecuting her labors of love with cautious fearlessness, and this in the midst of the infirmities attending a feeble const.i.tution.

In 1851, Mary was married to Thomas Peake, formerly a slave, but afterward a free man, light colored, intelligent, pious, and in every respect a congenial companion, with whom she lived happily till her decease.

The bereaved husband bears affectionate testimony to the strong mind and sound judgment which dwelt in that feeble frame. He loves to speak of his indebtedness to her richly stored mind for much of his knowledge of the Bible. At his request, she would sit for hours and relate Bible history. Others of our leading brethren also gratefully acknowledge that they have drawn largely from the same storehouse of biblical and varied knowledge.

CHAPTER II.

Commencement of the Mission at Fortress Monroe.--Flight of the Rebels from Hampton.--Burning of the Town.--The Place reoccupied by Freedmen.

About the first of September, 1861, the writer commenced the mission at Fortress Monroe, under the auspices of the American Missionary a.s.sociation, and was quartered in a building called the _Seminary_.

Three months before this, the Union troops entered Hampton from Old Point. The exciting scenes connected with this event have been narrated to me by eye-witnesses. Among these troops were Duryea's Zouaves, called by the people "red men," from the color of their dress.

The utmost consternation seized the inhabitants of Hampton, when they found the Union troops were approaching. Many of the colored people even were in a state of suspense. All kinds of stories had been told in regard to what the Yankees would do with them. Yet hope predominated over fear. They could hardly believe that the Yankees meant them any harm. But unmitigated fear filled the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the secessionists. There had been loud boasts of what they would do; but when the red trowsers approached, their bravery all ran down into their nimble feet. The battery of several large guns which they had planted, and which might have done great mischief to the Union troops, had they been bravely manned, was drawn off. In their confusion, the bridge was first fired, and then the fire extinguished. Men, women, and children ran screaming in every direction, crying, "They come!

they come! What shall we do?"

Here is a man within doors, gun in hand, pacing the floor in consternation, ever and anon rus.h.i.+ng to the window, and casting a frightened glance in the direction of the road from the fort, till he espies the Turk-like looking forms, moving "double quick," when he darts from the house, screaming, "They are coming! they are coming!"

Off he flies, with the fleetness of fear, and in a few moments is seen no more.

But in one house there are _two_ individuals, fearless and calm: Mrs.

Peake and her little daughter Daisy sit alike unalarmed; the one in child-like faith, the other in child-like simplicity. Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Peake's mother, is in a neighbor's house. Some time previous, the lady of the house, an intimate friend, having great confidence in sister Walker's prayers, said to her, "Sally, you must pray harder."

"Oh," said she, "I do pray as hard as I can."

"How do you pray, Sally?"

"I pray that the Lord's will may be done."

"You don't pray right, Sally," said one of them; "you must pray for Jeff. Davis."

"Oh," said she, "I pray as well as I can, and as hard as I can. I am praying all the time."

"That's right," said the other; "pray on, Sally--your prayer will surely be heard. You can't pray any better prayer than you do. Pray that the Lord's will may be done: I am sure it is the Lord's will that the Yankees should not come here to disturb us; and I have faith to believe they will not. Pray on, Sally; pray as hard as you can."

"I will, ma'am."

Time pa.s.sed on; and now, on that fearful morning, just after the sun has peeped above the horizon, lo, the Yankees! The strong faith above expressed fails the possessor; and she, who would scarcely have set foot on the ground for very delicacy, and who would not have been seen riding out, unless in a fine carriage, drawn by fine horses, elegantly harnessed, is now heard calling for any old horse or mule, and any rickety wagon or cart, with rope harness--any thing--any thing to take her out of the reach of the Yankees! Masters and mistresses are now turned fugitives.

Here is one of many interviews between masters and slaves.

"What's the matter, master?"

"Oh, the Yankees are coming!"