The Freedmen's Book Part 9

The child smiled, but made no answer in words. The master also smiled as he added: "He thinks that you sing very prettily, and he has bought you.

He will be very kind and good to you; and as soon as you have had breakfast, you must get your things ready to go off with him. Here is a present for you"; and he tossed her a bright, s.h.i.+ning, silver coin.

The child seized the money, but did not seem to comprehend her master's words. To be sold to her implied some sort of disgrace or hards.h.i.+p, which she did not think she deserved; besides, she had always lived on the "old plantation." She knew no other home; she did not want to leave "the people" of the quarter; nor did she feel happy in going away from the "white folks," particularly the "young mistresses," who had always been so kind to her. She had also some vague yearning of heart to be close to her mammy's grave, rough as it was; and near also to Grandpap's cabin, where she roasted apples and potatoes on winter nights.

She looked around upon the familiar quarter, the well-known people, the row of cabins; and strained her gaze far away to the rolling fields in the distance, where the negroes, like a swarm of crows, were busy at their morning's work; and as she gazed, the whole landscape flushed with the bloom and beauty of the risen sun. Then the wild, pealing horn called the "sons of toil" from their morning hour's work to their frugal breakfast.

Ratie's little heart began to beat in its narrow limits as the word "sold" wrote itself there, and broke through her comprehension with all its horrors. She started quickly after her master, and, with the freedom of a petted slave, caught hold of the skirt of his coat. Colonel Williams turned suddenly round; and there, crouching on the earth at his feet, was the hunchback child. She held up the money which he had given her, and, in a sweet, tremulous voice, asked: "Ma.s.sa, why has you sold me? I has not behaved bad, as de boys did dat you sold last year. I doesn't steal nor tell lies. Is it bekase I'se lazy? I do all de work dey gives me to do. I'll do more. I'll go into de fields. I'll plant and pick de cotton. Please don't sell me. I doesn't want to leave de ole place. Mammy is buried here; so I wants to be when I dies. I wants allers to live here."

The stranger and Colonel Williams were much moved. They did not venture to speak to the child, but tried to get away from the sound of her plaintive cries.

When the negroes drew around their morning meal, and learned that Ratie was sold, they were unhappy, and refused to eat anything. They looked sorrowfully at one another, and turned away from their untasted food.

"Poor Ratie!" exclaimed the old negroes, as they shook their heads in mournful discontent, "we shall not hear any more her sweet songs in de evenin' time."

The young mistresses came to Ratie with kind gifts and kinder words.

They told her, with tears in their eyes, how sorry they were to part with her, how good they knew she had been, and how much they wished their papa would allow her to stay. Words and acts like these softened the blow to the unfortunate child, and strengthened her for the coming trial. She looked up smilingly through her tears, as she said to her young mistresses: "Please not to cry for me. G.o.d is good, and de preacher says he is everywhar; so I shall not be fur from de ole plantation."

When she was starting away, each of the negroes brought her some little gift, such as cotton handkerchiefs, old ribbon-ends, bright-colored gla.s.s beads, or autumn berries, dried and strung on threads for neck ornaments. Each of these humble little tokens possessed an individual interest which touched some spring in Ratie's little heart. When the hour of separation came, she had nerved herself to the highest courage of which she was capable. She took leave of each of the slaves, all of them calling down the blessings of G.o.d upon her life. An old, lame negro man, whom the slaves addressed as Grandpap, hobbled from his cabin, on a broken crutch, to utter his farewell.

"Good by, Ratie," he began, and his voice choked with emotion; "good by, little Ratie, and may de good Lord be wid you. Him dat keres fur de poor, de lowly, and de despised, up yonder, way fur and high up dere, is a G.o.d dat loves all of his chillens alike. He doesn't kere fur de color ob de skin or de quality ob de hair. In his sight, wool is jist as good as de fair, straight hair. He loves de heart, and looks straight and deep into dat, and keres fur nothin' else. Never you be afeard, Ratie, Him'll take kere ob you, an' all sich as you, bekase He loves dem dat He smites and afflicts. Now, He didn't break your poor little back for nothin'. Him has Him's eye upon you. You is a lamb ob de fold, dat de great Shepherd will go fur and long to look arter. Him holds you in the holler ob Him's hand, an' He'll keep you dar. Mind what I tell you. Good by, Ratie. G.o.d bless you. Allers trust Him. 'Member my last words; dat is, Allers trust Him. Look to Him, and He'll never forget you."

As he uttered these words, in a slow, oracular manner, he brushed a tear from his eye with the back of his old, hard hand, and looking tenderly toward the child, his lips moved slowly, and the words seemed to melt unheard in the thin, morning air. He turned from her and hobbled off in the direction of his cabin.

The other slaves were more pa.s.sionately demonstrative in their farewells; but little Ratie bore up with a beautiful and proud composure.

The new owner proved very kind to the gentle little creature; but her heart had received a blow from which it could not recover.

The master took her to New Orleans, intending to have her taught music, that she might make money for him; but the poor child pined for "de ole plantation" and "de ole folks at home,"--the kind people--"my people,"

as she fondly called them--with whom she had been brought up.

In the great city of New Orleans she was literally lost. She missed the free country air, the green trees, the sweet singing-birds, the fields blooming with early flowers, the meadows and the running brooks. It was easy to see that the little hunchback was not happy. She grew thinner and thinner, and her voice lost its flexible sweetness, its clear and liquid roundness of tone. At last she fell away to a mere skeleton; then sharp, burning fever set in, and little Ratie was taken down to her bed.

Day and night, in the delirium of fever, she raved for "de ole plantation" and her own people.

The new master promised, when she got better, to take her back to her old home,--at least for a little while. But, alas! she never grew any better. She faded slowly away, until one evening, just at sundown, in the gay city of New Orleans, little Ratie breathed her last.

Just before she died, she lifted her head from the pillow, and, resting on her hand, she pointed eastward, saying: "Over dar is de ole plantation. Don't you see? How pretty and nice it looks! Dar is all de peoples at work. How busy dey is! But I'se not gwine dar. I doesn't want to, any more. Dere up dar is G.o.d's plantation, and it is betterer far.

Dere is no slaves dar, but all is free and happy,--loving friends; and it is dar dat I wants to go; and I hopes dat all de plantation folks will come to me."

And so little Ratie died.

_From the New York Independent._

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY.

Hail to the Lord's anointed!

Great David's greater Son!

Hail, in the time appointed, His reign on earth begun!

He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free, To take away transgression, And rule in equity.

He comes, with succor speedy, To those who suffer wrong; To help the poor and needy, And bid the weak be strong; To give them songs for sighing, Their darkness turned to light, Whose souls, condemned and dying, Were precious in his sight.

To him shall prayer unceasing, And daily vows ascend; His kingdom still increasing,-- A kingdom without end.

The tide of time shall never His covenant remove; His name shall stand forever,-- That name to us is Love.

THE BEGINNING AND PROGRESS OF EMANc.i.p.aTION IN THE BRITISH WEST INDIES.

Nothing has ever been done in this world more wicked and cruel than the slave-trade on the coast of Africa. But the temptation to carry it on was very great; for hundreds of men and women could be bought for a cask of poor rum or a peck of cheap beads, and could be sold in the markets of America or the West Indies for thousands of dollars. A hundred years ago men were not at all ashamed of growing rich in this bad way. They were respected in society as much as other men. They were often members of churches and professed to be very pious. Perhaps they deceived themselves, as well as others, and really thought they were pious, because they observed all the ritual forms of religion. But, above all their prayers, G.o.d heard the groans and the cries of the poor tortured Africans. He put it into the heart of a young Englishman, named Thomas Clarkson, to inquire into the wicked business, that was going on under the sanction of the government, and unreproved by the Church. In the course of his investigations, this young man discovered that the most shocking cruelties were habitually practised. He found that poor creatures stolen from their homes were packed close, like bales of goods, in the dark holds of s.h.i.+ps, where they were half choked by bad odors from acc.u.mulated filth, and where they could hardly breathe for want of air. The food allotted them was merely enough to keep them alive. Many died of grief and despair, and still more of burning fevers and other diseases. Living and dead often remained huddled together for hours, and when the corpses were removed they were thrown out to the sharks. But the sea-captains engaged in this horrid traffic were selfish as well as cruel. They did not like to have their victims die, because every one they lost on the pa.s.sage diminished the dollars they expected to get by selling them. So at times they brought the poor half-dead wretches on deck and drove them round with a whip for exercise, and insulted their misery by compelling them to dance, and sing the songs they had sung in their native land.

Thomas Clarkson called public attention to the subject by publis.h.i.+ng these things in a pamphlet. More than thirty years before, the humane sect called Quakers had forbidden any of its members to be connected with the slave-trade. But though the abominable traffic had been carried on more than two hundred and fifty years by various nations calling themselves Christian, there had been no attempt to excite general attention to the subject till Clarkson published his pamphlet in 1786, seventy-nine years ago. He became so much interested in the question that he gave up all other pursuits in life, and wrote, and lectured, and talked about it incessantly. The a.s.sembled representatives of the people which we call a Congress, is called a Parliament in Great Britain.[7] He tried to bring the subject before that body, and succeeded in gaining the attention of some members, among whom the most conspicuous was the benevolent William Wilberforce. He soon joined Mr. Clarkson in the formation of a Society for the Abolition of the Slave-trade. This of course gave great offence to the sea-captains and merchants engaged in the profitable traffic. Clarkson met with all manner of insult and abuse, and his life was sometimes in danger. The British government did as governments are apt to do,--it sided with the rich and powerful as long as it was politic to do so. But, though many of the aristocracy were haughty and selfish, the generality of the common people were ready to sympathize with the poor and the oppressed. When they became aware of the outrages committed in the slave-trade, they determined that a stop should be put to it. They wrote, and talked, and pet.i.tioned Parliament, till the government was compelled to pay some attention to their demands. When the friends of the infernal traffic found that a resolution to abolish it was likely to be pa.s.sed, they contrived to get the word "gradual" inserted into the resolution, and thus defeated the will of the people; for the gradual abolition of crime is no abolition at all. It was as absurd as it would have been for them to say they would abolish murder gradually. But though the law was insufficient to accomplish the desired purpose, public opinion against the trade exerted an increasing influence. The friends of those who were engaged in it began to apologize for it as a necessary branch of trade, and pleaded that laborers could not be supplied in the hot climate of the West Indies in any other way. They were even shameless enough to defend it and praise it as a benevolent scheme to bring savages away from heathen Africa and make good Christians of them. Mr. Boswell, a well-known English writer of that period, went so far as to p.r.o.nounce it "a trade which G.o.d had sanctioned"; and he declared that "to abolish it would be to shut the gates of mercy on mankind." Such pretences deceived some.

But the English people have a great deal of good common sense; and it was not easy to convince them that stealing men, women, and children from their homes, torturing them on the ocean, and selling them in strange lands, to be whipped to incessant toil without wages, was a pious missionary enterprise.

Clarkson, Wilberforce, and others continued their unremitting labors to suppress the unrighteous traffic; the kindly sect of Quakers everywhere a.s.sisted them; and benevolent people in other sects became more and more convinced that it was their duty to do the same. All manner of obstacles were put in the way of the desired reformation; but at last, after twenty-two years of violent agitation, the slave-trade was entirely abolished by Great Britain, at the commencement of the year 1808.

Sixteen years later, it was decreed by law that any British subject caught in the traffic should be punished as a pirate.

The king, George the Third, was opposed to the abolition, and so were all the royal family, except the Duke of Gloucester. The n.o.bility and wealthy people, with a few honorable exceptions, took the same side. The measure was carried by the good sense and good feeling of the common people of Great Britain.

There were no slaves in Great Britain. It had been decided by law that any slave who landed in that country became free the moment he touched the sh.o.r.e. But many of the West India islands, lying between North and South America, were under the British government, and the laborers there were held in Slavery. The English people knew very little what was going on in those distant colonies. When West India planters visited their relatives and friends in Great Britain, they made out a very fair story for themselves. They said none but negroes could work in such a hot climate, that sugar must be made, and negroes would not work unless they were slaves. They represented themselves as very kind masters, and described their bondmen as a very contented and merry cla.s.s of laborers.

These planters were generally das.h.i.+ng men, who spent freely the money they did not earn; and their fine manners and smooth talk gave the impression that they must be _gentle_ men.

People were slow to believe the accounts of cruelties practised in the West Indies by these polished gentlemen. But more and more facts were brought to light to prove that there was little to choose between the slave-trade and the system of Slavery. When the honest ma.s.ses of the British people became convinced that the slaves in the West Indies were entirely subject to the will of their masters, however licentious that will might be, and that they were kept in such brutal ignorance they could not read the Bible, they said at once that such a system ought to be abolished. They sent missionaries to the West Indies to teach the negroes. The planters considered this an impertinent interference with their affairs. They said if slaves were instructed they would rise in rebellion against their masters. The English people replied that it must be a very bad system which made it dangerous for human beings to read the Bible. The more closely they inquired into the subject, the more their indignation was roused. Brown faces and yellow faces among the slaves told a shameful story of licentious masters, while the chains and whips and other instruments of torture found on every plantation proved that severe treatment was universal. Again the honest ma.s.ses of the English people rose up in their moral majesty and said that wrong should be righted. The government was unfavorable to the abolition of Slavery, and the aristocracy, with a few honorable exceptions, sympathized with the slaveholders. The West-Indian planters were boiling over with rage. They pulled down the chapels where the negroes met together to hear the words of Jesus; they mobbed the missionaries, they thrust them into dungeons, and two or three of them were killed. Some of the planters thought Slavery was a bad system, but they had to be very cautious in expressing such an opinion; for if they were even suspected of favoring abolition, their neighbors were sure to make them suffer for it in some way. Even women seemed to be filled with the spirit of Furies, whenever the subject of Slavery was mentioned. One of them said, if she could get hold of Mr. Wilberforce she would tear his heart out.

Everywhere one heard mournful predictions of the ruin and desolation that would follow emanc.i.p.ation. They insisted that negroes would not work unless they were slaves, and of course no crops could be raised; and what was still more to be dreaded, they would murder all the whites and set fire to the towns. Sometimes they would present the subject from a benevolent point of view, and urge that it would be the greatest unkindness to the negroes to give them freedom; for when they had no kind masters to take care of them they would certainly starve.

The slaves of course found out that something in their favor was going on in England. They watched eagerly for the arrival of vessels; they took notice of everything that was said; if they could get hold of a sc.r.a.p of newspaper they hid it away, and those who could read would read it privately to the others. If their masters were unusually cross, or swore more than common, they would wink at each other and say, "There's good news for us from England."

The masters, on their part, watched the slaves closely. If they were more silent than common, or if they appeared to be in better spirits than common, they suspected them of plotting insurrections. But the negroes did more wisely than that. They believed that good people in England were working for them, and they tried to be patient till they were emanc.i.p.ated by law. There was but one exception to this. The planters in Jamaica were more bitter and furious than in the other islands. They formed societies to uphold Slavery, and made flaming speeches against the people and Parliament of Great Britain for "setting the slaves loose upon them," as they called it. They did not reflect that their colored servants, as they pa.s.sed in and out, heard this violent language and had sense enough to draw conclusions from it. But they did draw from it a conclusion very dangerous to their masters. They had heard talk of emanc.i.p.ation for several years, and it seemed to them that the promised freedom was a long time coming. In 1832, the speeches of the planters were so furious against the doings in Parliament, that the slaves received the idea that the British government had already pa.s.sed laws for their freedom, and that their masters were cheating them out of the legal rights that had been granted them. It was a sad mistake for the poor fellows, and brought a great deal of suffering upon themselves and others. They rose in insurrection, and it is said destroyed property to the amount of six millions of dollars. But instead of being protected by the British government, as they had expected, soldiers were sent over to put down the insurrection, and many of the negroes were shot and hung.

Meanwhile their friends in England were working for them zealously. They published pamphlets and papers and made speeches, and urgently pet.i.tioned Parliament to "let the people go." One pet.i.tion alone was signed by eight hundred thousand women. One of the members, pointing to the enormous roll, said: "There is no use in trying longer to resist the will of the people. When all the women in Great Britain are knocking at the doors of Parliament, something must be done."

The government and the aristocracy were very reluctant to comply with the demand of the people. But at last, after eleven years of more violent struggle than it had taken to suppress the African slave-trade, Slavery itself was abolished in the British West Indies forever. The decree was to go into effect on the 1st day of August, 1834. Up to the very last day, the planters persisted in saying that the measure would ruin the islands. They said the emanc.i.p.ated slaves would do no work, but would go round in large gangs, robbing, stealing, murdering the whites, burning the houses, and destroying the fields of sugar-cane. If the negroes had been revengeful, they might have done a great deal of mischief; for there were five times as many colored people in the islands as there were whites. But they were so thankful to get their freedom at last, that there was no room in their hearts for bad feelings. The tears were in their eyes as they told each other the good news, and said, "Bress de Lord and de good English people."

But many of the masters really believed their own alarming prophesies.

When they found that emanc.i.p.ation could not be prevented, numbers left the islands. Some of those who remained did not dare to undress and go to bed on the night of the 31st of July; and those who tried to sleep were generally restless and easily startled.

But while masters and mistresses were dreading to hear screams and alarms of fire, their emanc.i.p.ated slaves were flocking to the churches to offer up prayers and hymns of thanksgiving.

In the island of Antigua there were thirty thousand slaves when the midnight clock began to strive twelve, on the 31st of July, 1834; and when it had done striking they were all free men and free women. It was a glorious moment, never to be forgotten by them during the remainder of their lives. The Wesleyan Methodists kept watch-night in all their chapels. One of the missionaries who exhorted the emanc.i.p.ated people and prayed with them thus described the solemn scene:--