American Scenes, and Christian Slavery - Ebenezer Davies
The cheering at the close of Mr. Clay's speech merged into an awful
tempest of barking. I could compare it to nothing else,--500 men
barking with all their might! I thought it was all up with the
meeting--that all was lost in incurable confusion; and yet the
gentlemen on the platform looked down upon the raging tempest below
with calmness and composure, as a thing of course. Amidst the noise I
saw a middle-aged gentleman, rising on the platform, deliberately take
off his top-coat, and all was hushed--except at the outskirts of the
assembly, where a great trade in talking and tobacco was constantly
carried on. This gentleman's name was S.S. Prentiss, Esq.; and the
barking, it was now evident, consisted of calling out Prentiss!
--Prentiss!--Prentiss! with all their might, on the top of the
voice, and with an accent, sharp and rising, on the first syllable.
This gentleman gave us to understand that he was a lawyer--that he had
often appeared before his fellow-citizens on former occasions (those
occasions he briefly enumerated); but that the present was the most
painful of all. He expatiated largely, and with great vehemence of tone
and action, on the miseries of famine as experienced in
Ireland,--talked much of their own glorious and free country--("Looking
out for a few niggers this morning?" occurred to me),--and made some
severe reflections--not, I admit, altogether undeserved--on the
Government of England. This man was fluent, though turgid. He seemed
resolved to _act_ the orator throughout, and certainly to me appeared
in point of talent far--far a-head of Henry Clay. Bravos and hoohoos in
abundance greeted Mr. Prentiss. He spoke long; but the noise of the
suburbs prevented my hearing so perfectly as I wished.
The cheering at the close of this speech merged into barking as before.
In this instance it was Hunt!--Hunt!--Hunt! that they called for. The
president (standing) showed them a sheet of paper, containing probably
a list of subscriptions, and smiled coaxingly to intimate that he
wished that to be read. But it would not do. Hunt!--Hunt!--Hunt! was
still the cry; and the democracy, as before, carried the day.
By this time the atmosphere of the room had become so poisoned with
smoking that I could endure it no longer. I had not only the general
atmosphere to bear, but special puffs, right in my face, accompanying
the questions and remarks which, in that free meeting, of free
citizens, in a free country, were freely put to me by the free-and-easy
gentlemen around. The meeting resulted in the raising of 15,000 dollars
for the relief of the Irish. The sum was handed by the American
Minister in London to Lord John Russell; and a note from his Lordship,
acknowledging the gift, has gone the round of the papers on both sides
of the Atlantic. The subject of relief to Ireland was subsequently, in
many ways and places, brought under my notice; and while I have been
delighted in many instances with the display of pure and noble
generosity, it was too evident that much of what was done was done in a
spirit of self-glorification over a humbled and afflicted rival. It was
a fine opportunity to feed the national vanity, and to deal hard blows
to England. Not that I was sorry to see those blows, or to feel them.
They drew no blood, and were a hundred times more efficacious than if
they had. I felt that there was much in the conduct of England towards
her unhappy sister-isle for which she deserved the severest
castigation. But I must protest against the form of putting the case,
which was very common throughout the United States: "You are shocked at
our slavery; and yet you have horrors of ten times greater magnitude,
in the Irish famine at your own doors." In this way the Irish famine,
was a God-sent sort of a salvo for the slave-holder's conscience, so
soothing and grateful to his tortured feelings that he was but too
happy to pay for it by a contribution for the relief of Ireland.
In consequence of the following advertisement in the _Picayune_, I
screwed up my feelings, and resolved for once at least in my life to
see a slave-auction. I was the more disposed to attend this, as it was
distinctly stated that they would be sold in families. I should not
therefore have to behold the wife torn away from the husband, the
husband from the wife, the parent from the child, or the child from the
parent, as is so commonly done.
"COTTON-FIELD HANDS.--By Beard, Calhoun, and Co., auctioneers.--Will be
sold at auction, on Friday, the 5th inst., at 12 o'clock, at Bank's
Arcade, thirty-seven Field Slaves; comprising eighteen from one
plantation, and fourteen from another. All acclimated Negroes. To be
sold in Families. Full particulars at sale."
"F. 4."
Setting off a few minutes before 12, after about half-a-dozen
inquiries, and as many "guessing" answers, I found "Bank's Arcade." It
was very near the Presbyterian church, in which I had heard such
excellent sermons on the preceding Sabbath. It was a large open
building: one side occupied as a bar for the retail of strong drinks,
and the other fitted up for auctioneering purposes,--there being
conveniences for three or four of the trade to exercise their vocation
at the same time. One end was used for the sale of books and other
publications, chiefly novels; and the other for the exhibition of fancy
goods.
As I got in at one end, I heard a voice--with that peculiar, twirling,
rapid, nasal twang, which marks the Transatlantic auctioneer--say, "400
dollars for this fine young woman--only 400 dollars--420, only
420--430--440, only 440 dollars offered for this fine young woman." By
this time I had got in front of the performer, and had a full view of
the whole affair. And sure enough she was a "fine young woman," about
twenty-three years of age, neatly dressed, not quite----But the scene
shall form the subject of my next letter.
LETTER VII.
The Slave-Auction (continued)--"A Fine Young Woman"--A Man and his
Wife--Jim, the Blacksmith--A Family--A Ploughboy--Cornelia--Another
Jim--Tom, the House-Boy--Edmund--Tom, and "his reserved rights"--A
Carriage Driver--Margaret and her Child.
Yes, she _was_ a "fine young woman," about 23 years of age, neatly
dressed, not black, but slightly coloured. The auctioneer was a
sleek-looking fellow, with a face that indicated frequent and familiar
intercourse with the brandy-bottle. He stood upon a platform, about
four feet high. Behind him was a table, at which a clerk sat to record
the sales. High above was a semi-circular board, on which were written
in large letters "Beard, Calhoun, and Co." In front, standing upon a
chair, exposed to the gaze of a crowd of men, stood the "fine young
woman." She had an air of dignity even in that degrading position.
Around were twenty or thirty more of the sable race, waiting their
turn.
"440 dollars only offered," continued the coarse and heartless
auctioneer; "450, thank you; 460, 460 dollars only offered for this
excellent young woman--470 only, 470--480, 480 dollars only
offered--490--500 dollars offered--going for 500 dollars--once, going
for 500 dollars--503 dollars--going for 503 dollars--going--once
--twice--gone for 503 dollars. She is yours, sir," pointing
to the highest bidder. She stepped down, and disappeared in the custody
of her new proprietor.
A man and his wife, both black, were now put up. They were made to
ascend the platform. "Now, how much for this man and his wife? Who
makes an offer? What say you for the pair? 550 dollars offered--560
dollars only; 560 dollars," &c., &c., till some one bidding 600
dollars--he added, "Really, gentlemen, it is throwing the people
away--going for 600 dollars; going--once--twice--gone for 600 dollars.
They are yours, sir."
Jim, a blacksmith, about 30 years of age, was the next. He stood on the
chair in front. "Now, who bids for Jim? He is an excellent blacksmith;
can work on a plantation, and make his own tools; in fact, can turn his
hand to anything. The title is good,"--(Is it, indeed? breathed
I,)--"and he is guaranteed free from all the vices and maladies
provided against by law. Who bids for him? 600 dollars bid for him
--625 dollars--650 dollars," and so on to 780. "'Pon my soul,
gentlemen, this is throwing the man away; he is well worth 1,200
dollars of anybody's money; 790 dollars only offered for him--going for
790 dollars;--going--once--twice--gone for 790 dollars."
The next "lot" was a family, consisting of the husband, a man slightly
coloured, about 30 years of age, the wife about 25, quite black, and
reminding me forcibly of an excellent woman in my own congregation, a
little girl about 4 years of age, and a child in the arms. They were
told to mount the platform. As they obeyed, I was attracted by a little
incident, which had well nigh caused my feelings to betray me. Never
shall I forget it. Parents of England, let me tell it you, and enlist
your sympathies on behalf of oppressed and outraged humanity. It was
that of a father helping up, by the hand, _his own little girl to be
exposed for sale_. "Now, who bids for this family? Title
good--guaranteed free from the vices and maladies provided against by
law. The man is an excellent shoemaker--can turn his hand to
anything,--and his wife is a very good house-servant. Who bids for the
lot? 500 dollars bid for them--600 dollars--only 600 dollars--700
dollars offered for them." But the price ultimately mounted up to 1,125
dollars.--"Going for 1,125 dollars--once--twice--gone for 1,125
dollars."
The next was a black boy, 16 years of age. He mounted the chair, not
the platform. "Now, gentlemen, here is an excellent ploughboy. Who bids
for him? Thank you,--400 dollars bid for him--425," and so on to 550
dollars. "Why, look at him; he is a powerful-limbed boy; he will make a
very large strong man." He was knocked down at 625 dollars.
"The next I have to put up, gentlemen, is a young piece of city
goods--the girl Cornelia. She is 18 years of age, a good washer and
ironer, but not a very good cook. She is well known in the city, and
has always belonged to some of the best families." By this time
Cornelia was standing upon the chair. "Now, gentlemen, who bids for
this girl? She is sold for no fault, but simply for want of money. Who
bids for this excellent washer and ironer?" At this moment one of the
"gentlemen," standing in front of her, deliberately took his
walking-stick, and, with the point of it, lifted up her clothes as high
as the knee. I afterwards saw this same man walking arm-in-arm with his
white wife in the street. "500 dollars offered for her--530 dollars."
She went for 580.
Here let me state, once for all, that I took notes on the spot. Those
around me no doubt thought I was deeply interested in the state of the
slave-market, and wishful to convey the most accurate information to my
slave-breeding and soul-driving correspondents at a distance. Had my
real object and character been discovered, I gravely doubt whether I
should have left that "great" and "free" city alive!
The next "lot" were Jim, his wife, and two children, one about three,
and the other about two years of age,--all on the platform. They were
said to be excellent cotton-field hands, title good, and so forth; but,
somehow, there were no bidders.
A boy about ten years of age, a fine intelligent-looking little fellow,
was now made to mount the chair. "Now, who bids for Tom? an excellent
house-boy, a 'smart' young lad; can wait well at table--title
good--guaranteed free from all the vices and maladies provided against
by law. Who bids for him?" The bidding began, at 350 dollars, and ended
at 425.
"I have now to put up the boy Edmund, thirty-two years of age, an
excellent cotton-field hand. Who bids for the boy Edmund?" At this
moment a gentleman, who, like most of those present, appeared to be a
sort of speculator in slaves, stepped forward, and examined with his
hands the boy's legs, especially about the ankles, just as I have seen
horse-dealers do with those animals at fairs. There were, however, no
bidders; and Edmund was put down again.
The next that mounted the chair was a shrewd-looking negro, about
thirty-five years of age. "Now, gentlemen, who bids for Tom? He is an
excellent painter and glazier, and a good cook besides; title good;
sold for no fault, except that his owner had hired him at 25 dollars a
month, and Tom would not work. An excellent painter and glazier, and a
good cook besides. His only fault is that he has a great idea of his
own reserved rights, to the neglect of those of his master." This was
said with a waggish kind of a leer, as if he thought he had said a very
smart thing in a very smart way. 300 dollars were first offered for
him; but poor Tom went for 350. "Now, sir," said the man-seller to Tom,
with a malicious look, "you'll go into the country." He was bought by
one of the speculators, who no doubt would sell him again for double
the amount. Tom, as he descended from the chair, gave a look which
seemed to say, "I care not whither I go; but my own reserved rights
shall not be forgotten!"
A girl of seventeen years of age, somewhat coloured, was the next put
up. She was "an excellent washer and getter-up of linen." She was also
"a tolerably good cook." But there were no bidders; and the auctioneer
said, "Really, gentlemen, I have a great deal of business to do in my
office: I cannot lose any more time here, as you are not disposed to
bid." And so ended the exhibition.
I was now at leisure to observe that a strange noise which I had heard
for some time proceeded from another auctioneer, engaged in the same
line of business at the other end of the room. As I approached, I saw
him with a young coloured man of about twenty-two years of age,
standing on his left hand on the platform. What a sight! Two men
standing together, and the one offering the other for sale to the
highest bidder! In the young man's appearance there was something very
good and interesting. He reminded me forcibly of an excellent young man
of the same colour in my own congregation. 430 dollars were offered for
him; but, as he was a good carriage driver, and worth a great deal
more, only he had not had time to dress himself for the sale, being
industrious, sober, and _no runaway_ (said with significant emphasis),
the bidding ran up to 660 dollars. Here one of the bidders on the
auctioneer's right hand asked him something aside; to which he
answered, loudly and emphatically, "_Fully guaranteed in every
respect_;" and then said to the young man, "Turn this way, and let the
gentleman see you," He was sold for 665 dollars.
The next was a very modest-looking young mulatto girl, of small
features and slender frame, with a little child (apparently not more
than a year old) in her arms, evidently the daughter of a white man.
"Now, who bids for Margaret and her child?" Margaret! my own dear
mother's name. "Margaret and her child!" What should I have been this
day, if _that_ Margaret "and her child" Ebenezer had been so treated?
Who can think of his own mother, and not drop a tear of sympathy for
this mother--so young, so interesting, and yet so degraded? "Now,
gentlemen, who bids for Margaret and her child? She is between sixteen
and seventeen years of age, and is six months gone in pregnancy of her
second child: I mention the last circumstance, because you would not
think it to look at her,--it is right, however, that you should know.
She cooks well, sews well, washes well, and irons well. Only 545
dollars! Really, gentlemen, it's throwing the girl away; she is well
worth 800 dollars of any man's money. She'll no doubt be the mother of
a great many children; and that is a consideration to a purchaser who
wants to raise a fine young stock. Only 545 dollars offered for her!"
No higher offer being made, she was sent down,--it was no sale. Let us
breathe again.
LETTER VIII.
St. Louis Exchange--Inspection of Human Chattels--Artizan
Slaves--Scenes and Proceedings of the Auction--Sale of the Men.
Finding that another slave-auction was to be held at noon next day in
the St. Louis Exchange, I resolved to attend. The day was dull and
dirty. "Please, sir," said I to the first man I met, "to tell me where
St. Louis Exchange is?" "Don't know, sir." I walked on a little
further, and tried again. "Please to direct me to St. Louis Exchange?"
"Can't; but it's somewhere in that direction," pointing with his
finger. "Is this the way to St. Louis Exchange?" I asked a third. "I
guess it is," was the curt and characteristic reply. "How far is it?"
"Three blocks further on; then turn to your right; go a little way
down, and you will find it on your left." I went as directed, and came
to an immense building--a kind of hotel. There were nearly a dozen
entrances, all leading into one vast saloon, where I found about 200
gentlemen,--some drinking, some eating, some smoking, some reading,
some talking, and all spitting. One end of the saloon was fitted up as
a refreshment place, similar to those on railway stations in England.
But I could see nothing like preparations for a sale.
On looking around I perceived a large door in two halves, with spring
hinges, leading as it were further into the building. I pushed one half
open, and found myself in a spacious circular hall,--its roof, ending
in a dome, supported by a suitable number of massive columns. The floor
was tastefully paved with black and white marble, and all the light
came from the dome. Some 100 gentlemen were sauntering about, and now
and then turning to several groupes of black people to ask them
questions. This place was evidently fitted up for auctioneering
purposes, and seemed peculiarly adapted for man-selling. At equal
distances were a dozen elevated desks for the chief actors, each with a
small platform in front for the exhibition of the articles of sale.
It was a quarter to twelve, by the clock that faced the entrance door,
when I got in. Anxious to know what kind of questions were put to the
slaves, I pushed myself into the knots of intending purchasers, just as
if I had been one of them. The inquiries, I found, related to place of
birth, subsequent removals, competency for work, and so forth. The
answers presented a fearful view of the extent to which the internal
slave-trade is carried on. Most of the slaves said they had been
"raised" in Virginia and Kentucky. To avoid the suspicion of being a
spy, I resolved to put a few questions too. I found myself at the
establishment where those named in the advertisement which had drawn me
thither were to be disposed of. A pile of handbills--each containing an
exact copy of the advertisement, and a French translation--was lying on
the platform. Taking one up, I observed the name of "Squires, a
carpenter." Assuming all the confidence I could muster, I said, "Which
is Squires?" "I'm here, sir." "You are a carpenter, are you not?" "Yes,
sir," (with a very polite bow). "And what can you do?" "I can trim a
house, sir, from top to bottom." "Can you make a panelled door?" "Yes,
Sir." "Sash windows?" "Yes, sir." "A staircase?" "Yes, sir." I gave a
wise and dignified nod, and passed on to another groupe. In my
progress, I found by one of the platforms a middle-aged black woman,
and a mulatto girl of perhaps eighteen crouching by her side. "Are you
related to each other?" I said. "No, sir." "Have you lived long in the
city?" I said to the younger. "About two years, sir; but I was 'raised'
in South Carolina." "And why does your owner sell you?" "Because I
cannot cut--she wants a cutter--I can only sew." I then returned to the
groupe at platform No. 1.
The clock was striking twelve; and, before it had finished, the vast
dome reverberated with the noise of half-a-dozen man-sellers bawling at
once, disposing of God's images to the highest bidders. It was a
terrible din. But, at our platform, business proceeded rather
leisurely. Two gentlemen ascended the desk: the one of a light
complexion, about fifty-five years of age, rather fat, whiskers and
beard smoothly shaven off; the other, a Frenchified-looking young man,
about twenty-five years of age, of dark complexion, with green
spectacles to hide some deformity of the eye, no whiskers, but a large
quantity of beard on the lower chin. The elderly man, whom I took to be
the notary public mentioned in the advertisement, read the terms of
sale; then the dark auctioneer, stroking his bearded chin, proceeded to
business.
"Now, gentlemen, let me sell you Jacob. He is twenty-six years of
age--a first-rate carpenter and wheelwright--_Jacob age d'environ 26
ans, charpentier et charron de la premiere ordre_--guaranteed free from
the vices and maladies provided against by law--_garanti exempt des
vices et des maladies prevus par la loi_. How much for Jacob? _Combien
pour Jacob?_" He was run up from 1,000 dollars, and was going for
1,175, when the fat old gentleman offered 1,200, at which he was
knocked down. "Now, gentlemen," said the fat man, with deliberation and
emphasis, "the 1,200 dollars was my bid, and therefore Jacob is not
sold. He is well worth 1,800 dollars."
At this performance, be it observed, the chief actor uttered everything
first in English, and then in French, in the same breath, thereby
giving the proceedings a most strange and comical sound.
Abraham, although on the advertisement, was not present.
Sancho, a black man, twenty-seven years of age, was the next in order.
He was described as "an excellent carpenter--_excellent
charpentier_--can do anything but fine work--fully guaranteed free from
the maladies and vices provided against by law;" and, as nobody would
bid higher, he also was bought in by the fat man at 1,025 dollars.
George, a black man, twenty-seven years of age, was the next to mount
the platform. George kept his eyes fixed upon the dome, as if he felt
above looking down on the grovelling creatures beneath him. He was a
stout-built, thick-set man, who evidently felt to the very core the
degradation to which he was exposed. "Now, gentlemen, let me sell you
George--a first-rate bricklayer--_excellent poseur de briques_--bears
an excellent character--only he absconded once from his master for a
few days. How much do you offer for him?" The bidding began at 500
dollars; but George, like his predecessors, was bought in at 980 by the
fat man, who protested him to be well worth 1,500.
Squires--whom I questioned about doors, sash-windows, and
staircases--was next put up. He was said to be twenty-eight years of
age; but I think he was nearer forty. On his forehead was a deep scar,
occasioned by some severe cut. He appeared to be a very good-tempered
man, and by his smiling looks seemed to say, "Buy me, and I'll serve
you well." "What will you offer for Squires, gentlemen?--an excellent
carpenter--can trim a house--all but the very fine work--bears an
excellent character--is fully guaranteed," &c. &c. "Who bids for
Squires?" Poor fellow! he was sold for 900 dollars.
Sancho was put up again, the fat man observing that he had made a
mistake in offering a reserve bid for him--that he would be sold
without reserve. He was put up at 600 dollars. The biddings gradually
ascended to 900, and there stood, till, after a considerable
expenditure of the Frenchman's breath and talent, Sancho was knocked
down at 900 dollars, though when first put up 1,025 had been offered
for him.
John, a black man, twenty-five years of age, "an excellent French and
American cook--_excellent cuisinier Francais et Americain_," was put up
at 600 dollars, and, after the usual quantity of the Frenchman's
eloquence, (accompanied, as in all other cases, by the constant rubbing
of his tuft of chin-beard with the left hand, while in the right he
flourished a fine massive gold pencil-case and a sheet of paper,)
fetched 775 dollars, at which price he was knocked down to one Robert
Murphy.
Silas also, a black boy, fifteen years of age, a house-servant, with a
large scar on the right cheek, was sold for 670 dollars to Robert
Murphy; who likewise became the purchaser of Scipio, a black man about
twenty-four years of age, "an excellent cook, fully warranted in every
respect," for 705 dollars.
"Now, gentlemen," resumed the green-spectacled auctioneer, still
stroking his cherished tuft of long black beard,--"now, gentlemen, let
me sell you Samson! He is twenty-six years of age--an excellent
house-servant--guaranteed free," &c. &c. "What do you offer for
Samson?" Poor Samson fell into the hands of the Philistines at 710
dollars.
Sam, the next on the list, was not present. Ben was therefore put up.
He was a fine buckish young fellow, about twenty-one. His complexion
was lighter than that of a mulatto, and his hair was not at all
crisped, but straight, and of a jet black. He was dressed in a good
cloth surtout coat, and looked altogether far more respectable and
intelligent than most of the bidders. He was evidently a high-minded
young man, who felt deeply the insulting position he was made to
occupy. Oh! that I could have whispered in his ear a few words of
sympathy and comfort. He stood on the platform firm and erect, his eyes
apparently fixed on the clock opposite. "Now, gentlemen, what do you
offer for Ben?" said the Frenchified salesman; "a first-rate
tailor--only twenty-one years of age." 700 dollars proved to be the
estimated value of this "excellent tailor."