Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. II (of 2)

CHAPTER IV.

SOME ACCOUNT OF RIDGEWOOD HILL, AND THE AUTHOR'S OCCUPATIONS

My master's lands lay on and near the Potomac, and his house was built on a hill, which bore his own name, and gave name also to the estate – that is, Ridgewood Hill. It overlooked that wide and beautiful river, being separated from it only by a lawn, which in the centre was hollow, and ran down to the river in a ravine, while its flanks or extremities, sloping but gently in their whole course, suddenly fell down to the shore in wooded bluffs, that looked very bold and romantic from the water. In the hollow of the lawn was a little brook, that rose from a spring further up the hill, and found its way to the river through the ravine, where it made many pretty little pools and cascades among the bushes; while a creek, that was wide but shallow, swept in from the river above, and went winding away among the hills behind.

My master's house was ancient, and, I must say, not in so good repair as it might have been; but there were so many beautiful trees about it that one would not think of its defects, the more especially as it appeared only the more venerable for them. It looked handsome enough from the river; and even from the negro-huts, which were nearer the creek, it had an agreeable appearance; particularly when the children were playing together on the lawn, which they did, and sometimes white and black together, nearly all day long. They were thus engaged in their sports when aunt Phoebe drove me from the hovel; and I remember how soon my indignation at the unceremonious ejection was pacified by looking on the happy creatures, thus enjoying themselves on the grass, while my master and his eldest daughter sat on the porch, regarding them with smiles.

How greatly I had changed within a few short days! Instead of being moved by the sight of juvenile independence and happiness to think of my own bitter state of servitude, I was filled with a foolish glee; and little Tommy running up to me with shouts of joy, down I dropped on my hands and knees, and taking him on my back, began to trot, and gallop, and rear, and curvet over the lawn, to the infinite gratification of himself, his little sisters, and the children of my own colour, all of whom rewarded my efforts of horseship with screams of approbation. Now the reader will be surprised to hear it, but I, Tom the slave (I never remember to have heard myself called any thing but Tom), enjoyed this foolish sport just as much as Tommy the rider, to whom I felt, I think, some such feelings of affection – I know not how I got them, but feel them I did – as a father experiences while playing the courser to his own child. Nay, I was thrown into such good-humour, and felt so content with myself, that when my master came to me, and bade me "take care lest I should hurt myself by my exertions," I told him, in the fervour of my heart, I was doing very well, and that I was as strong as ever I had been; which caused him to laugh, and say I was growing marvellous honest of a sudden.

About this time the field-hands returned from their daily labour, and, having despatched their evening meal, they came, the women and children with them, under the trees before the door, with banjoes, fiddles, and clacking-bones (that is, a sort of castanets made of the ribs of an ox), and began to sing and dance, as was their custom always every fair evening; for my master greatly delighted, as he said, to see the poor devils enjoy themselves; in which the poor devils were ever ready to oblige him. They had no sooner begun the diversion, than I was seized with an unaccountable desire to join them, which I did, dancing with all my might, and singing and clapping my hands, the merriest and happiest of them all. And this sort of amusement, I may as well now inform the reader, we were in the habit of repeating so long as the mildness of the weather permitted.

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR FURTHER DESCRIBES HIS SITUATION, AND PHILOSOPHIZES ON THE STATE OF SLAVERY

Having thus shown myself to be perfectly cured of my broken neck, it followed that, as a slave, I was now compelled to go into the fields and labour. This I did, at first, very reluctantly; but by-and-by I discovered there was but little toil expected of me, or indeed of any other bondman; for the overseer was a good-natured man like his employer, and lazy like ourselves. I do not know how it may be with the slaves on other estates; but I must confess that, so far as mere labour went, there was less done by, and less looked for from, my master's hands, than I have ever known to be the case with the white labourers of New-Jersey. My master owned extensive tracts of land, from which, although now greatly empoverished and almost exhausted, he might have drawn a princely revenue, had he exacted of his slaves the degree of labour always demanded of able-bodied hirelings in a free state. But such was not the custom of Virginia, or such, at least, was not the custom of my master. He was of a happy, easy temper, neglectful of his interest, and though often – nay, I may say incessantly – grumbling at the flagrant laziness of all who called him master, and at the yearly depreciation of his lands, he was content enough if the gains of the year counterbalanced the expenses; and as but a slight degree of toil was required to effect this happy object, it was commonly rendered, and without repugnance, on the part of his slaves. His great consolation, and he was always pronouncing it to himself and to us, was, "that his hands were the greatest set of scoundrels in the world," – which, if unutterable laziness be scoundrelism, was true. He was pretty generally beloved by them; which, I suppose, was because he was so good-natured; though many used to tell me they loved him because he was their "right-born master," – that is, put over them by birth, and not by purchase; for he lived upon the land occupied by his fathers before him, and his slaves were the descendants of those who had served them.

The reader, who has seen with what horror and fear I began the life of a slave, may ask if, after I found myself restored to health and strength, I sought no opportunity to give my master the slip, and make a bold push for freedom. I did not; a change had come over the spirit of my dream: I found myself, for the first time in my life, content, or very nearly so, with my condition, free from cares, far removed from disquiet, and, if not actually in love with my lot, so far from being dissatisfied, that I had not the least desire to exchange it for another.

Methinks I see the reader throw up his hands at this, crying, "What! content with slavery!" I assure him, now I ponder the matter over, that I am as much surprised as himself, and that I consider my being content with a state of bondage a very singular and unaccountable circumstance. Nevertheless, such was the fact. I was no longer Sheppard Lee, Zachariah Longstraw, nor anybody else, except simply Tom, Thomas, or Tommy, the slave. I forgot that I once had been a freeman, or, to speak more strictly, I did not remember it, the act of remembering involving an effort of mind which it did not comport with my new habits of laziness and indifference to make, though perhaps I might have done so, had I chosen. I had ceased to remember all my previous states of existence. I could not have been an African had I troubled myself with thoughts of any thing but the present.

Perhaps this defect of memory will account for my being satisfied with my new condition. I had no recollection of the sweets of liberty to compare and contrast with the disgusts of servitude. Perhaps my mind was stupified – sunk beneath the ordinary level of the human understanding, and therefore incapable of realizing the evils of my condition. Or, perhaps, after all, considering the circumstances of my lot with reference to those of my mind and nature, such evils did not in reality exist. The reader may settle the difficulty for himself, which he can do when he has read a little more of my history. In the meanwhile, the fact is true: I was satisfied with my lot – I was satisfied even with myself. The first time I looked at my new face I was shocked at what I considered its ugliness. But having peeped at it a dozen times or more, my ideas began to alter, and, by-and-by, I thought it quite beautiful. I used to look at myself in aunt Phoebe's glass by the hour, and I well remember the satisfaction with which I listened to the following rebuke of my vanity from her, namely, "All you pritty young niggurs with handsome faces is good for nothin, not wuth so much as you cawn!" In short, I was something of a coxcomb; and nothing could equal the pride and happiness of my heart, when, of a Sabbath morning, dressed in one of my master's old coats well brushed up, a bran-new rabbit-fur hat, the gift of little Tommy, a ruffled shirt, and a white neckcloth, with a pair of leather gloves swinging in one hand, and a peeled beechen wand by way of cane in the other, I went stalking over the fields to church in the little village, near to which my master resided.

I say again, I cannot account for my being so contented with bondage. It may be, however, that there is nothing necessarily adverse to happiness in slavery itself, unaccompanied by other evils; and that when the slave is ground by no oppression and goaded by no cruelty, he is not apt to repine or moralize upon his condition, nor to seek for those torments of sentiment which imagination associates with the idea of slavery in the abstract.

Of one thing, at least, I can be very certain. I never had so easy and idle a time of it in my whole life. My little master Tommy had grown very fond of me. It is strange anybody should be fond of a slave; but it is true. It appears I was what they call a mere field-hand, that is, a labourer, and quite unfit for domestic service. Nevertheless, to please Tommy, I was taken from the tobacco-fields, and, without being appointed to any peculiar duty about the house, was allowed to do what I pleased, provided I made myself sufficiently agreeable to young master. So I made him tops, kites, wind-mills, corn-stalk fiddles, and little shingle ships with paper sails, gave him a trot every now and then on my back, and had, in return, a due share of his oranges and gingerbread.

In this way my time passed along more agreeably than I can describe. My little master, it is true, used to fall into a passion and thump me now and then; but that I held to be prime fun; particularly as, – provided I chose to blubber a little, and pretend to be hurt, – the little rogue would relent, and give me all the goodies he could beg, borrow, or steal, to "make up with me," as he called it.

Little Tommy and his sisters, four in number, were the children of my master by a second wife, who had died two years before. The oldest was the young lady of whom I have already spoken, and she was, I believe, not above seventeen. Her name was Isabella, and she was uncommonly handsome. A young gentleman of the neighbourhood, named Andrews, was paying court to her. Indeed, she had a great many admirers, and there was much company came to see her.

My master's oldest son, the only child left by his first wife, lived on a plantation beyond the creek, being already married, and having children. His name was George, like his father, and the slaves used to distinguish them as "Massa Cunnel Jodge," and "Massa Maja Jodge;" for all the gentlemen in those parts were either colonels or majors. The major's seat being at so short a distance, and the plantation he cultivated a part of the colonel's great estate of Ridgewood Hill, we used to regard him as belonging still to our master's family, and the slaves on both plantations considered themselves as forming but a single community. Nevertheless, we of the south side had a sort of contempt for those of the north; for "Massa Maja," though a good master, was by no means so easy as his father. He exacted more work; and when he rode into the fields on our side, as he often did, he used to swear at us for lazy loons, and declare he would, some day or other turn over a new leaf with us.

CHAPTER VI.

RECOLLECTIONS OF SLAVERY

I must again repeat what I have said, namely, that I was contented with my servile condition, and that I was so far from looking back with regret to my past life of freedom, that I ceased at last to remember it altogether. I was troubled with no sense of degradation, afflicted with no consciousness of oppression; and instead of looking upon my master as a tyrant who had robbed me of my rights, I regarded him as a great and powerful friend, whose protection and kindness I was bound to requite with a loyal affection, and with so much of the labour of my hands as was necessary to my own subsistence. What would have been my feelings had my master been really a cruel and tyrannical man, I will not pretend to say; but doubtless they would have been the opposite of those I have confessed.

The above remarks apply equally to my fellow-bondmen, of whom there were, young and old, and men and women together, more than a hundred on the two estates. The exact number I never knew; but I remember there were above twenty able-bodied men, or "full hands," as they were called, when all were mustered together. There were many, especially among the women, who were great grumblers; but that was their nature: such a thing as serious discontent was, I am persuaded, entirely unknown. The labours of the plantation were light, the indulgences granted frequent and many. There was scarce a slave on the estate who, if he laboured at all, did not labour more for himself than his master; for all had their little lots or gardens, the produce of which was entirely their own, and which they were free to sell to whomsoever they listed. And hard merchants they were sometimes, even to my master, when he would buy of them, as he often did. I remember one day seeing old aunt Phoebe, to whom he had sent to buy some chickens, fall into a passion and refuse to let the messenger have any, because her master had forgotten to send the money. "Go tell old Massa Jodge," said she, with great ire, "I no old fool to be cheated out of my money; and I don't vally his promise to pay not dat!" – snapping her fingers – "he owe me two ninepence already!" And the old gentleman was compelled to send her the cash before she complied with his wishes.

The truth is, my master was, in some respects, a greater slave than his bondmen; and all the tyranny I ever witnessed on the estate was exercised by them, and at his expense; for there was a general conspiracy on the part of all to cheat him, as far as was practicable, out of their services, while they were, all the time, great sticklers for their own rights and privileges. He was, as I have said before, universally beloved; but his good-nature was abused a thousand times a day.

There existed no substantial causes for dissatisfaction; and there was therefore the best reason for content. Singing and dancing were more practised than hard work. In a word, my master's slaves were an idle, worthless set, but as happy as the day was long. I may say the same of myself; I certainly was a very merry and joyous personage, and my companions, who envied me for being the favourite of young master, used to call me Giggling Tom.

But there is an end to the mirth of the slave, as well as the joy of the master. A cloud at last came betwixt me and the sun; a new thought awoke in my bosom, bringing with it a revolution of feeling, which extended to the breasts of all my companions. It was but a small cause to produce such great effects; but an ounce of gunpowder may be made to blow up an army, and a drop of venom from the lip of a dog may cause the destruction of a whole herd.

CHAPTER VII.

A SCENE ON THE BANKS OF THE POTOMAC, WITH THE HUMOURS OF AN AFRICAN IMPROVISATORE

Beneath the bluff, and at the mouth of the creek which divided the two plantations, was a wharf or landing, where our fishing-boats (for we had a good fishery hard by) used to discharge their cargoes, and where, also, small shallops, coming with supplies to the plantation, put out their freight. Here, one day, some seven or eight of the hands were engaged removing a cargo of timber, which had just been discharged by a small vessel; my master having bought it for the express purpose of repairing the negro-houses, and building a new one for a fellow that was to be married; for it seems, his crops of corn and tobacco had turned out unusually well, and when that happened the slaves were the first who received the benefit.

Hither I strolled, having nothing better to do, to take a position on the side of the bluff, where I could both bask in the sunshine, which was very agreeable (for it was now the end of October, though fine weather), and overlook the hands working – which was still more agreeable; for I had uncommon satisfaction to look at others labouring while I myself was doing nothing.

Having selected a place to my liking, I lay down on the warm clay, enjoying myself, while the others intermitted their labour to abuse me, crying, "Cuss' lazy nigga, gigglin' Tom dah! why you no come down work?" having employed themselves at which for a time, they resumed their labours; and I, turning over on my back and taking a twig that grew nigh betwixt my teeth, began to think to myself what an agreeable thing it was to be a slave and have nothing to do.

By-and-by, hearing a great chattering and laughing among the men below, I looked down and beheld one of them diverting himself with a ludicrous sport, frequently practised by slaves to whom the lash is unknown. He was frisking and dodging about pretty much as aunt Phoebe had done when endeavouring to show me how the whip was handled in Mississippi; and, like her, he rubbed his back, now here, now there, now with the right, now with the left hand; now ducking to the earth, now jumping into the air, as though some lusty overseer were plying him, whip in hand, with all his might. The wonder of the thing was, however, that Governor (for that was the fellow's name) had in his hand a pamphlet, or sheet of printed paper, the contents of which he was endeavouring both to convey to his companions and to illustrate by those ridiculous antics. The contents of the paper were varied, for varied also was the representation.

"Dah you go, nigga!" he cried, leaping as if from a blow; "slap on'e leg, hit right on'e shin! yah, yah, yah – chah, chah, ch-ch-ch-ch-ah! chah, chah, massa! – oh de dam overseeah! dat de way he whip a nigga!" Then pausing a moment and turning a leaf of the book, he fell to leaping again, crying – "What dat? dat you, Rose? what you been doin? stealin' sugah?

"Jump! you nigga gal!Hab a hard massa!So much you git for stealin' sugah!So much for lickin' lassa!

"Dem hard massa, licky de gals!

"Ole Vaginnee, nebber ti-ah!what 'e debbil's de use ob floggin' like fia-ah!"

Then came another scene. "Yah, yah, yah! – what dat? Massa Maja kickin' de pawson! I say, whaw Pawson Jim? you Jim pawson, he-ah you git'em!" And then another – "Lorra-gorry, what he-ah? He-ah a nigga tied up in a gum —

"Oh! de possum up de gum-tree,'Coony in de hollow:Two white men whip a nigga,How de nigga holla!

"Jump, nigga, jump! yah, yah, yah! did you ebber see de debbil? jump, nigga, jump! two white men whip a nigga? gib a nigga fay-ah play!

"When de white man comes to sticky, sticky,Lorra-gorr! he licky, licky!"Gib a nigga fay-ah play!"

And so he went on, describing and acting what he affected to read, to the infinite delight of his companions, who, ceasing their work, crowded round him, to snatch a peep at the paper, which, I observed, no one got a good look at without jumping back immediately, rubbing his sides, and launching into other antics, in rivalry with Governor.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE AUTHOR DESCENDS AMONG THE SLAVES, AND SUDDENLY BECOMES A MAN OF FIGURE, AND AN INTERPRETER OF NEW DOCTRINES

I was moved with curiosity to know what they had laid their hands on, and I descended the bank to solve the mystery. The paper had passed from the hands of Governor to those of a fellow named Jim, or Parson Jim, as we usually called him; for he was fond of praying and preaching, which he had been allowed to do until detected in a piece of roguery a few weeks before by Master Major, who, besides putting a check on his clerical propensities for the future, saluted him with two or three kicks well laid on, on the spot. It was to this personage and his punishment that Governor alluded, when he cried, "What he-ah? Massa Maja kickin' de pawson!" as mentioned above. Although a great rogue, he was a prime favourite among the negroes, who had a great respect for his learning; for he could read print, and was even thought to have some idea of writing. This fellow was employed, on the present occasion, at the ox-cart; and, as it is no part of a slave's system to do the work of others, he had been sitting apart singing a psalm, while the others were loading his cart; and apart he had remained, until a call was made upon him to explain so much of the paper, being the printed portion, as Governor could not. The paper, it is here proper to observe, had been found by Governor among the boards and scantling; though how it got there no one knew, nor was it ever discovered. It was a pamphlet, or magazine, I know not which (and the name I have unfortunately forgotten), containing, besides a deal of strange matter about slavery, some half a dozen or more wood-cuts, representing negroes in chains, under the lash, exposed in the market for sale, and I know not what other situations; and it was these which had afforded the delighted Governor so much matter for mimicry and merriment. There was one cut on the first page, serving as a frontispiece; it represented a negro kneeling in chains, and raising his fettered hands in beseeching to a white man, who was lashing him with a whip. Beneath it was a legend, which being, or being deemed, explanatory of the picture, and at the same time the initial sentence of the book, Parson Jim was essaying to read: and thus it was he proceeded: —

"T-h-e, the– dat's de; f-a-t-e, fat—de fat; o-f, ob – de fat ob; t-h-e, de – de fat ob de; s-l-a-v-e, slave—de fat ob de slave. My gorry, what's dat? Brederen, I can't say as how I misprehends dat."

"Yah, yah, yah!" roared Governor; "plain as de nose on you face. De fat ob de slave– what he mean, heh? Why, gorry, you dumb nigga, he mean – massa, dah, is whippin de fat out ob de nigger! Dem hard massa dat-ah, heh? Whip de fat out!

"Lorra-gorry, massa, don't like you whippy:Don't sell Gubbe'nor down a Mississippi!"

"Let me read it," said I.

"You read, you nigga! whar you larn to read?" cried my friends. It was a question I could not well answer; for, as I said before, the memory of my past existence had quite faded from my mind: nevertheless, I had a feeling in me as if I could read; and taking the book from the parson, I succeeded in deciphering the legend – "THE FATE OF THE SLAVE."

"Whaw dat?" said Governor; "de chain and de cowhide? Does de book say dat's de luck for nigga? Don't b'leeb 'm; dem lie: Massa Cunnel nebber lick a nigga in 'm life!"

The reading of that little sentence seemed, I know not why, to have cast a sudden damper on the spirits of all present. Until that moment, there had been much shouting, laughing, and mimicking of the pains of men undergoing flagellation. Every picture had been examined, commented on, and illustrated with glee; it associated only the idea of some idle vagabond or other winning his deserts. A new face, a new interpretation was given to the matter by the words I had read. The chain and scourge appeared no longer as the punishment of an individual; they were to be regarded as the doom of the race. The laughing and mimicry ceased, and I beheld around me nothing but blank faces. It was manifest, however, that the feeling was rather indignation than anxiety; and that my friends looked upon the ominous words as a libel upon their masters and themselves.

"What for book say dat?" cried Governor, who, from being the merriest, had now become the angriest of all; "who ebber hear of chain a nigga, escept nigga runaway, or nigga gwyin' down gin' will to Mississippi? Who ebber hear of lash a nigga, escept nigga sassbox, nigga thief, nigga drunk, nigga break hoss' leg?"

"Brudders," said Parson Jim, "this here is a thing what is 'portant to hear on; for, blessed be Gorra-matty, there is white men what writes books what is friends of the Vaginnee niggur."