Lucy A. Delaney - From the Darkness Cometh the Light, or Struggles for Freedom
L >>
Lucy A. Delaney >> From the Darkness Cometh the Light, or Struggles for Freedom
Struggles for Freedom.
[Illustration: (signed) Yours Truly, Lucy A. Delaney]
FROM THE
DARKNESS COMETH THE LIGHT
OR
STRUGGLES FOR FREEDOM.
[Illustration]
ST. LOUIS, MO.
PUBLISHING HOUSE OF J. T. SMITH,
No. 11, Bridge Entrance.
Dedication.
To those who by their valor have made their name immortal, from whom
we are daily learning the lessons of patriotism, in whom we respect
the virtues of charity, patience and friendship as displayed towards
the colored race and to those
"Whose deeds crowd History's pages
And Time's great volume make,"
is this little volume reverently dedicated--
THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC.
Preface.
So many of my friends have urged me to give a short sketch of my
varied life that I have consented, and herewith present it for the
consideration of my readers. Those who were with me in the days of
slavery will appreciate these pages, for though they cannot recur with
any happiness to the now "shadowy past, or renew the unrenewable," the
unaccountable longing for the aged to look backward and review the
events of their youth will find an answering chord in this little
book.
Those of you who have never suffered as we have, perhaps may suppose
the case, and therefore accept with interest and sympathy the
passages of life and character here portrayed and the lessons which
should follow from them.
If there is a want of unity or coherence in this work, be charitable
and attribute it to lack of knowledge and experience in literary
acquirements. As this is a world of varied interests and many events,
although we are each but atoms, it must be remembered, that we assist
in making the grand total of all history, and therefore are excusable
in making our affairs of importance to ourselves, and endeavoring to
impress them on others. With this reason of my seeking your favor, I
leave you to the perusal of my little tale.
L. A. D.
STRUGGLES FOR FREEDOM.
CHAPTER I.
"Soon is the echo and the shadow o'er,
Soon, soon we lie with lid-encumbered eyes
And the great fabrics that we reared before
Crumble to make a dust to hide who dies."
In the year 18--, Mr. and Mrs. John Woods and Mr. and Mrs. Andrew
Posey lived as one family in the State of Illinois. Living with Mrs.
Posey was a little negro girl, named Polly Crocket, who had made it
her home there, in peace and happiness, for five years. On a dismal
night in the month of September, Polly, with four other colored
persons, were kidnapped, and, after being securely bound and gagged,
were put into a skiff and carried across the Mississippi River to the
city of St. Louis. Shortly after, these unfortunate negroes were
taken up the Missouri River and sold into slavery. Polly was purchased
by a farmer, Thomas Botts, with whom she resided for a year, when,
overtaken by business reverses, he was obliged to sell all he
possessed, including his negroes.
Among those present on the day set apart for the sale was Major Taylor
Berry, a wealthy gentleman who had travelled a long distance for the
purpose of purchasing a servant girl for his wife. As was the custom,
all the negroes were brought out and placed in a line, so that the
buyers could examine their good points at leisure. Major Berry was
immediately attracted by the bright and alert appearance of Polly, and
at once negotiated with the trader, paid the price agreed upon, and
started for home to present his wife with this flesh and blood
commodity, which money could so easily procure in our vaunted land of
freedom.
Mrs. Fanny Berry was highly pleased with Polly's manner and
appearance, and concluded to make a seamstress of her. Major Berry had
a mulatto servant, who was as handsome as an Apollo, and when he and
Polly met each other, day after day, the natural result followed, and
in a short time, with the full consent of Major Berry and his wife,
were married. Two children were the fruit of this marriage, my sister
Nancy and myself, Lucy A. Delaney.
While living in Franklin county, Major Berry became involved in a
quarrel with some gentleman, and a duel was resorted to, to settle the
difficulty and avenge some fancied insult. The major arranged his
affairs and made his will, leaving his negroes to his wife during her
life-time and at her death they were to be free; this was his
expressed wish.
My father accompanied Major Berry to New Madrid, where the fatal duel
was fought, and stayed by him until the end came, received his last
sigh, his last words, and closed his dying eyes, and afterwards
conveyed the remains of his best friend to the bereaved family with a
sad heart. Though sympathizing deeply with them in their affliction,
my father was much disturbed as to what disposition would be made of
him, and after Major Berry was consigned with loving hands to his last
resting place, these haunting thoughts obtruded, even in his sleeping
hours.
A few years after, Major Berry's widow married Robert Wash, an eminent
lawyer, who afterwards became Judge of the Supreme Court. One child
was born to them, who, when she grew to womanhood, became Mrs. Francis
W. Goode, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance as long as
life lasts, and God bless her in her old age, is my fervent prayer for
her kindness to me, a poor little slave girl!
We lived in the old "Wash" mansion some time after the marriage of
the Judge, until their daughter Frances was born. How well I remember
those happy days! Slavery had no horror then for me, as I played about
the place, with the same joyful freedom as the little white children.
With mother, father and sister, a pleasant home and surroundings, what
happier child than I!
As I carelessly played away the hours, mother's smiles would fade
away, and her brow contract into a heavy frown. I wondered much
thereat, but the time came--ah! only too soon, when I learned the
secret of her ever-changing face!
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Wash lost her health, and, on the advice of a physician, went to
Pensacola, Florida, accompanied by my mother. There she died, and her
body was brought back to St. Louis and there interred. After Mrs.
Wash's death, the troubles of my parents and their children may be
said to have really commenced.
Though in direct opposition to the will of Major Berry, my father's
quondam master and friend, Judge Wash tore my father from his wife and
children and sold him "way down South!"
Slavery! cursed slavery! what crimes has it invoked! and, oh! what
retribution has a righteous God visited upon these traders in human
flesh! The rivers of tears shed by us helpless ones, in captivity,
were turned to lakes of blood! How often have we cried in our anguish,
"Oh! Lord, how long, how long?" But the handwriting was on the wall,
and tardy justice came at last and avenged the woes of an oppressed
race! Chickamauga, Shiloh, Atlanta and Gettysburgh, spoke in thunder
tones! John Brown's body had indeed marched on, and we, the ransomed
ones, glorify God and dedicate ourselves to His service, and
acknowledge His greatness and goodness in rescuing us from such
bondage as parts husband from wife, the mother from her children, aye,
even the babe from her breast!
Major Berry's daughter Mary, shortly after, married H. S. Cox, of
Philadelphia, and they went to that city to pass their honeymoon,
taking my sister Nancy with them as waiting-maid. When my father was
sold South, my mother registered a solemn vow that her children should
not continue in slavery all their lives, and she never spared an
opportunity to impress it upon us, that we must get our freedom
whenever the chance offered. So here was an unlooked-for avenue of
escape which presented much that was favorable in carrying out her
desire to see Nancy a free woman.
Having been brought up in a free State, mother had learned much to her
advantage, which would have been impossible in a slave State, and
which she now proposed to turn to account for the benefit of her
daughter. So mother instructed my sister not to return with Mr. and
Mrs. Cox, but to run away, as soon as chance offered, to Canada, where
a friend of our mother's lived who was also a runaway slave, living in
freedom and happiness in Toronto.
As the happy couple wandered from city to city, in search of pleasure,
my sister was constantly turning over in her mind various plans of
escape. Fortune finally favored Nancy, for on their homeward trip
they stopped at Niagara Falls for a few days. In her own words I will
describe her escape:
"In the morning, Mr. and Mrs. Cox went for a drive, telling
me that I could have the day to do as I pleased. The shores
of Canada had been tantalizing my longing gaze for some
days, and I was bound to reach there long before my mistress
returned. So I locked up Mrs. Cox's trunk and put the key
under the pillow, where I was sure she would find it, and I
made a strike for freedom! A servant in the hotel gave me
all necessary information and even assisted me in getting
away. Some kind of a festival was going on, and a large
crowd was marching from the rink to the river, headed by a
band of music. In such a motley throng I was unnoticed, but
was trembling with fear of being detected. It seemed an age
before the ferry boat arrived, which at last appeared,
enveloped in a gigantic wreath of black smoke. Hastily I
embarked, and as the boat stole away into the misty twilight
and among crushing fields of ice, though the air was chill
and gloomy, I felt the warmth of freedom as I neared the
Canada shore. I landed, without question, and found my
mother's friend with but little difficulty, who assisted me
to get work and support myself. Not long afterwards, I
married a prosperous farmer, who provided me with a happy
home, where I brought my children into the world without the
sin of slavery to strive against."
On the return of Mrs. Cox to St. Louis she sent for my mother and told
her that Nancy had run away. Mother was very thankful, and in her
heart arose a prayer of thanksgiving, but outwardly she pretended to
be vexed and angry. Oh! the impenetrable mask of these poor black
creatures! how much of joy, of sorrow, of misery and anguish have they
hidden from their tormentors!
I was a small girl at that time, but remember how wildly mother
showed her joy at Nancy's escape when we were alone together. She
would dance, clap her hands, and, waving them above her head, would
indulge in one of those weird negro melodies, which so charm and
fascinate the listener.
Mrs. Cox commenced housekeeping on a grand and extended scale, having
a large acquaintance, she entertained lavishly. My mother cared for
the laundry, and I, who was living with a Mrs. Underhill, from New
York, and was having rather good times, was compelled to go live with
Mrs. Cox to mind the baby. My pathway was thorny enough, and though
there may be no roses without thorns, I had thorns in plenty with no
roses.
I was beginning to plan for freedom, and was forever on the alert for
a chance to escape and join my sister. I was then twelve years old,
and often talked the matter over with mother and canvassed the
probabilities of both of us getting away. No schemes were too wild
for us to consider! Mother was especially restless, because she was a
free woman up to the time of her being kidnapped, so the injustice and
weight of slavery bore more heavily upon her than upon me. She did not
dare to talk it over with anyone for fear that they would sell her
further down the river, so I was her only confidant. Mother was always
planning and getting ready to go, and while the fire was burning
brightly, it but needed a little more provocation to add to the
flames.
CHAPTER III.
Mrs. Cox was always very severe and exacting with my mother, and one
occasion, when something did not suit her, she turned on mother like a
fury, and declared, "I am just tired out with the 'white airs' you put
on, and if you don't behave differently, I will make Mr. Cox sell you
down the river at once."
Although mother turned grey with fear, she presented a bold front and
retorted that "she didn't care, she was tired of that place, and
didn't like to live there, nohow." This so infuriated Mr. Cox that he
cried, "How dare a negro say what she liked or what she did not like;
and he would show her what he should do."
So, on the day following, he took my mother to an auction-room on Main
Street and sold her to the highest bidder, for five hundred and fifty
dollars. Oh! God! the pity of it! "In the home of the brave and the
land of the free," in the sight of the stars and stripes--that symbol
of freedom--sold away from her child, to satisfy the anger of a
peevish mistress!
My mother returned to the house to get her few belongings, and
straining me to her breast, begged me to be a good girl, that she was
going to run away, and would buy me as soon as she could. With all the
inborn faith of a child, I believed it most fondly, and when I heard
that she had actually made her escape, three weeks after, my heart
gave an exultant throb and cried, "God is good!"
A large reward was offered, the bloodhounds (curse them and curse
their masters) were set loose on her trail. In the day time she hid in
caves and the surrounding woods, and in the night time, guided by the
wondrous North Star, that blessed lodestone of a slave people, my
mother finally reached Chicago, where she was arrested by the
negro-catchers. At this time the Fugitive Slave Law was in full
operation, and it was against the law of the whole country to aid and
protect an escaped slave; not even a drink of water, for the love of
the Master, might be given, and those who dared to do it (and there
were many such brave hearts, thank God!) placed their lives in danger.
The presence of bloodhounds and "nigger-catchers" in their midst,
created great excitement and scandalized the community. Feeling ran
high and hundreds of people gathered together and declared that mother
should not be returned to slavery; but fearing that Mr. Cox would
wreak his vengeance upon me, my mother finally gave herself up to her
captors, and returned to St. Louis. And so the mothers of Israel have
been ever slain through their deepest affections!
After my mother's return, she decided to sue for her freedom, and for
that purpose employed a good lawyer. She had ample testimony to prove
that she was kidnapped, and it was so fully verified that the jury
decided that she was a free woman, and papers were made out
accordingly.
In the meanwhile, Miss Martha Berry had married Mr. Mitchell and taken
me to live with her. I had never been taught to work, as playing with
the babies had been my sole occupation; therefore, when Mrs. Mitchell
commanded me to do the weekly washing and ironing, I had no more idea
how it was to be done than Mrs. Mitchell herself. But I made the
effort to do what she required, and my failure would have been amusing
had it not been so appalling. In those days filtering was unknown and
the many ways of clearing water were to me an unsolved riddle. I never
had to do it, so it never concerned me how the clothes were ever
washed clean.
As the Mississippi water was even muddier than now, the results of my
washing can be better imagined than described. After soaking and
boiling the clothes in its earthy depths, for a couple of days, in
vain attempt to get them clean, and rinsing through several waters, I
found the clothes were getting darker and darker, until they nearly
approximated my own color. In my despair, I frantically rushed to my
mother and sobbed out my troubles on her kindly breast. So in the
morning, before the white people had arisen, a friend of my mother
came to the house and washed out the clothes. During all this time,
Mrs. Mitchell was scolding vigorously, saying over and over again,
"Lucy, you do not want to work, you are a lazy, good-for-nothing
nigger!" I was angry at being called a nigger, and replied, "You don't
know nothing, yourself, about it, and you expect a poor ignorant girl
to know more than you do yourself; if you had any feeling you would
get somebody to teach me, and then I'd do well enough."
She then gave me a wrapper to do up, and told me if I ruined that as I
did the other clothes, she would whip me severely. I answered, "You
have no business to whip me. I don't belong to you."
My mother had so often told me that she was a free woman and that I
should not die a slave, I always had a feeling of independence, which
would invariably crop out in these encounters with my mistress; and
when I thus spoke, saucily, I must confess, she opened her eyes in
angry amazement and cried:
"You _do_ belong to me, for my papa left you to me in his will, when
you were a baby, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so to
one that you have been raised with; now, you take that wrapper, and if
you don't do it up properly, I will bring you up with a round turn."
Without further comment, I took the wrapper, which was too handsome to
trust to an inexperienced hand, like Mrs. Mitchell very well knew I
was, and washed it, with the same direful results as chronicled
before. But I could not help it, as heaven is my witness. I was
entirely and hopelessly ignorant! But of course my mistress would not
believe it, and declared over and over again, that I did it on purpose
to provoke her and show my defiance of her wishes. In vain did I
disclaim any such intentions. She was bound to carry out her threat of
whipping me.
I rebelled against such government, and would not permit her to strike
me; she used shovel, tongs and broomstick in vain, as I disarmed her
as fast as she picked up each weapon. Infuriated at her failure, my
opposition and determination not to be whipped, Mrs. Mitchell declared
she would report me to Mr. Mitchell and have him punish me.
When her husband returned home, she immediately entered a list of
complaints against me as long as the moral law, including my failure
to wash her clothes properly, and her inability to break my head for
it; the last indictment seemed to be the heaviest she could bring
against me. I was in the shadow of the doorway as the woman raved,
while Mr. Mitchell listened patiently until the end of his wife's
grievances reached an appeal to him to whip me with the strength that
a man alone could possess.
Then he declared, "Martha, this thing of cutting up and slashing
servants is something I know nothing about, and positively will not
do. I don't believe in slavery, anyhow; it is a curse on this land,
and I wish we were well rid of it."
"Mr. Mitchell, I will not have that saucy baggage around this house,
for if she finds you won't whip her, there will be no living with her,
so you shall just sell her, and I insist upon it."
"Well, Martha," he answered, "I found the girl with you when we were
married, and as you claim her as yours, I shall not interpose any
objections to the disposal of what you choose to call your property,
in any manner you see fit, and I will make arrangements for selling
her at once."
I distinctly overheard all that was said, and was just as determined
not to be sold as I was not to be whipped. My mother's lawyer had told
her to caution me never to go out of the city, if, at any time, the
white people wanted me to go, so I was quite settled as to my course,
in case Mr. Mitchell undertook to sell me.
Several days after this conversation took place, Mrs. Mitchell, with
her baby and nurse, Lucy Wash, made a visit to her grandmother's,
leaving orders that I should be sold before her return; so I was not
surprised to be ordered by Mr. Mitchell to pack up my clothes and get
ready to go down the river, for I was to be sold that morning, and
leave, on the steamboat Alex. Scott, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
"Can't I go see my mother, first?" I asked.
"No," he replied, not very gently, "there is no time for that, you can
see her when you come back. So hurry up and get ready, and let us have
no more words about it!"
How I did hate him! To hear him talk as if I were going to take a
pleasure trip, when he knew that if he sold me South, as he intended,
I would never see my dear mother again.
However, I hastily ran up stairs and packed my trunk, but my mother's
injunction, "never to go out of the city," was ever present in my
mind.
Mr. Mitchell was Superintendent of Indian Affairs, his office being in
the dwelling house, and I could hear him giving orders to his clerk,
as I ran lightly down the stairs, out of the front door to the street,
and with fleet foot, I skimmed the road which led to my mother's door,
and, reaching it, stood trembling in every limb with terror and
fatigue.
I could not gain admittance, as my mother was away to work and the
door was locked. A white woman, living next door, and who was always
friendly to mother, told me that she would not return until night. I
clasped my hands in despair and cried, "Oh! the white people have sold
me, and I had to run away to keep from being sent down the river."
This white lady, whose name I am sorry I cannot remember, sympathized
with me, as she knew my mother's story and had written many letters
for her, so she offered me the key of her house, which, fortunately,
fitted my mother's door, and I was soon inside, cowering with fear in
the darkness, magnifying every noise and every passing wind, until my
imagination had almost converted the little cottage into a boat, and I
was steaming down South, away from my mother, as fast as I could go.
Late at night mother returned, and was told all that had happened, and
after getting supper, she took me to a friend's house for
concealment, until the next day.
As soon as Mr. Mitchell had discovered my unlooked-for departure, he
was furious, for he did not think I had sense enough to run away; he
accused the coachman of helping me off, and, despite the poor man's
denials, hurried him away to the calaboose and put him under the lash,
in order to force a confession. Finding this course unavailing, he
offered a reward to the negro catchers, on the same evening, but their
efforts were equally fruitless.
CHAPTER IV.
On the morning of the 8th of September, 1842, my mother sued Mr. D. D.
Mitchell for the possession of her child, Lucy Ann Berry. My mother,
accompanied by the sheriff, took me from my hiding-place and conveyed
me to the jail, which was located on Sixth Street, between Chestnut
and Market, where the Laclede Hotel now stands, and there met Mr.
Mitchell, with Mr. H. S. Cox, his brother-in-law.
Judge Bryant Mullanphy read the law to Mr. Mitchell, which stated that
if Mr. Mitchell took me back to his house, he must give bond and
security to the amount of two thousand dollars, and furthermore, I
should not be taken out of the State of Missouri until I had a chance
to prove my freedom. Mr. H. S. Cox became his security and Mr.
Mitchell gave bond accordingly, and then demanded that I should be put
in jail.
"Why do you want to put that poor young girl in jail?" demanded my
lawyer. "Because," he retorted, "her mother or some of her crew might
run her off, just to make me pay the two thousand dollars; and I would
like to see her lawyer, or any other man, in jail, that would take up
a d---- nigger case like that."
"You need not think, Mr. Mitchell," calmly replied Mr. Murdock,
"because my client is colored that she has no rights, and can be
cheated out of her freedom. She is just as free as you are, and the
Court will so decide it, as you will see."
However, I was put in a cell, under lock and key, and there remained
for seventeen long and dreary months, listening to the
"----foreign echoes from the street,
Faint sounds of revel, traffic, conflict keen--
And, thinking that man's reiterated feet
Have gone such ways since e'er the world has been,
I wondered how each oft-used tone and glance
Retains its might and old significance."
My only crime was seeking for that freedom which was my birthright! I
heard Mr. Mitchell tell his wife that he did not believe in slavery,
yet, through his instrumentality, I was shut away from the sunlight,
because he was determined to prove me a slave, and thus keep me in
bondage. Consistency, thou art a jewel!
At the time my mother entered suit for her freedom, she was not
instructed to mention her two children, Nancy and Lucy, so the white
people took advantage of this flaw, and showed a determination to use
every means in their power to prove that I was not her child.
This gave my mother an immense amount of trouble, but she had girded
up her loins for the fight, and, knowing that she was right, was
resolved, by the help of God and a good lawyer, to win my case against
all opposition.
After advice by competent persons, mother went to Judge Edward Bates
and begged him to plead the case, and, after fully considering the
proofs and learning that my mother was a poor woman, he consented to
undertake the case and make his charges only sufficient to cover his
expenses. It would be well here to give a brief sketch of Judge Bates,
as many people wondered that such a distinguished statesman would take
up the case of an obscure negro girl.
