Fear of Rebellion

Not far from this time Nat Turner’s insurrection broke out; and the news threw our town into great commotion. Strange that they should be alarmed, when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But so it was.

Around this time, Nat Turner’s rebellion broke out, and the news caused great turmoil in our town. Strange that slaveholders should be alarmed when their slaves were so “contented and happy”! But they were.

It was always the custom to have a muster every year. On that occasion every white man shouldered his musket. The citizens and the so-called country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their places in the ranks in every-day dress, some without shoes, some without hats. This grand occasion had already passed; and when the slaves were told there was to be another muster, they were surprised and rejoiced. Poor creatures! They thought it was going to be a holiday. I was informed of the true state of affairs, and imparted it to the few I could trust. Most gladly would I have proclaimed it to every slave; but I dared not. All could not be relied on. Mighty is the power of the torturing lash.

Every year, it was customary to hold a muster. On that day, every white man took up his musket. The citizens and the so-called country gentlemen wore military uniforms. The poor whites took their places in the ranks in everyday clothes. Some had no shoes, and some had no hats. This grand occasion had already passed when the slaves were told there would be another muster. They were surprised and delighted. Poor creatures! They thought it would be a holiday. I learned what was really happening and told the few people I could trust. I would gladly have told every slave, but I did not dare. Not all of them could be trusted. The power of the torturing lash is mighty.

By sunrise, people were pouring in from every quarter within twenty miles of the town. I knew the houses were to be searched; and I expected it would be done by country bullies and the poor whites. I knew nothing annoyed them so much as to see colored people living in comfort and respectability; so I made arrangements for them with especial care. I arranged every thing in my grandmother’s house as neatly as possible. I put white quilts on the beds, and decorated some of the rooms with flowers. When all was arranged, I sat down at the window to watch. Far as my eye could reach, it rested on a motley crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes were discoursing martial music. The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each headed by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face was to be found.

By sunrise, people were pouring in from all directions, from as far as twenty miles away. I knew the houses would be searched. I expected country bullies and poor white people to do the searching. I knew nothing annoyed them more than seeing colored people living comfortably and respectably. So I prepared for them with special care. I made everything in my grandmother’s house as neat as possible. I put white quilts on the beds and decorated some rooms with flowers. When everything was ready, I sat down at the window to watch. As far as I could see, there was a mixed crowd of soldiers. Drums and fifes played military music. The men were divided into companies of sixteen, each led by a captain. Orders were given, and the wild scouts rushed in every direction, wherever a colored face could be found.

It was a grand opportunity for the low whites, who had no negroes of their own to scourge. They exulted in such a chance to exercise a little brief authority, and show their subserviency to the slaveholders; not reflecting that the power which trampled on the colored people also kept themselves in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. Those who never witnessed such scenes can hardly believe what I know was inflicted at this time on innocent men, women, and children, against whom there was not the slightest ground for suspicion. Colored people and slaves who lived in remote parts of the town suffered in an especial manner. In some cases the searchers scattered powder and shot among their clothes, and then sent other parties to find them, and bring them forward as proof that they were plotting insurrection. Every where men, women, and children were whipped till the blood stood in puddles at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes; others were tied hands and feet, and tortured with a bucking paddle, which blisters the skin terribly. The dwellings of the colored people, unless they happened to be protected by some influential white person, who was nigh at hand, were robbed of clothing and every thing else the marauders thought worth carrying away. All day long these unfeeling wretches went round, like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting the helpless. At night, they formed themselves into patrol bands, and went wherever they chose among the colored people, acting out their brutal will. Many women hid themselves in woods and swamps, to keep out of their way. If any of the husbands or fathers told of these outrages, they were tied up to the public whipping post, and cruelly scourged for telling lies about white men. The consternation was universal. No two people that had the slightest tinge of color in their faces dared to be seen talking together.

It was a grand opportunity for poor white people who had no Black people of their own to whip. They rejoiced at the chance to exercise a little temporary authority and show their obedience to the slaveholders. They did not stop to think that the same power that crushed Black people also kept them in poverty, ignorance, and moral degradation. People who never witnessed such scenes can hardly believe what I know was done at this time. Innocent men, women, and children suffered, though there was not the slightest reason to suspect them. Black people, including enslaved people, who lived in remote parts of town suffered especially. In some cases, the searchers scattered gunpowder and shot among their clothes. Then they sent other groups to find the powder and shot and present them as proof of a planned uprising. Everywhere, men, women, and children were whipped until blood pooled at their feet. Some received five hundred lashes. Others were tied hand and foot and tortured with a bucking paddle, which raises terrible blisters on the skin. The homes of Black people were robbed of clothing and anything else the raiders thought worth carrying away. A home was spared only if an influential white person happened to be nearby to protect it. All day long, these heartless wretches went around like a troop of demons, terrifying and tormenting helpless people. At night, they formed patrol bands and went wherever they pleased among Black people, giving free rein to their brutality. Many women hid in woods and swamps to avoid them. If any husbands or fathers spoke of these outrages, they were tied to the public whipping post. There they were cruelly whipped for telling lies about white men. Terror was everywhere. No two people with even the slightest hint of color in their faces dared to be seen talking together.

I entertained no positive fears about our household, because we were in the midst of white families who would protect us. We were ready to receive the soldiers whenever they came. It was not long before we heard the tramp of feet and the sound of voices. The door was rudely pushed open; and in they tumbled, like a pack of hungry wolves. They snatched at every thing within their reach. Every box, trunk, closet, and corner underwent a thorough examination. A box in one of the drawers containing some silver change was eagerly pounced upon. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one of the soldiers turned and said angrily, “What d’ye foller us fur? D’ye s’pose white folks is come to steal?”

I had no real fears about our household because we were surrounded by white families who would protect us. We were ready for the soldiers whenever they came. Before long, we heard footsteps and voices. The door was pushed open roughly, and the soldiers tumbled in like a pack of hungry wolves. They grabbed at everything within reach. They thoroughly searched every box, trunk, closet, and corner. They eagerly seized a box of silver change in one of the drawers. When I stepped forward to take it from them, one soldier turned and said angrily, “Why are you following us? Do you think white people have come to steal?”

I replied, “You have come to search; but you have searched that box, and I will take it, if you please.”

I replied, “You have come to search, but you have already searched that box. I will take it, please.”

At that moment I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us; and I called to him, and asked him to have the goodness to come in and stay till the search was over. He readily complied. His entrance into the house brought in the captain of the company, whose business it was to guard the outside of the house, and see that none of the inmates left it. This officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder whom I mentioned, in the account of neighboring planters, as being notorious for his cruelty. He felt above soiling his hands with the search. He merely gave orders; and, if a bit of writing was discovered, it was carried to him by his ignorant followers, who were unable to read.

At that moment, I saw a white gentleman who was friendly to us. I called to him and asked him to come in and stay until the search was over. He readily agreed. When he entered the house, the captain of the company came in too. The captain’s job was to guard the outside of the house and make sure no one inside left. This officer was Mr. Litch, the wealthy slaveholder I mentioned when describing the neighboring planters. He was notorious for his cruelty. He considered himself above dirtying his hands with the search. He only gave orders. If any writing was found, his ignorant followers carried it to him, because they could not read.

My grandmother had a large trunk of bedding and table cloths. When that was opened, there was a great shout of surprise; and one exclaimed, “Where’d the damned niggers git all dis sheet an’ table clarf?”

My grandmother had a large trunk full of bedding and tablecloths. When the trunk was opened, there was a loud shout of surprise. One person exclaimed, “Where did the damned niggers get all these sheets and tablecloths?”

My grandmother, emboldened by the presence of our white protector, said, “You may be sure we didn’t pilfer ’em from your houses.”

With our white protector there, my grandmother felt bold enough to say, “You can be sure we didn’t steal them from your houses.”

“Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking fellow without any coat, “you seem to feel mighty gran’ ’cause you got all them ’ere fixens. White folks oughter have ’em all.”

“Look here, mammy,” said a grim-looking man without a coat. “You seem to feel mighty grand because you have all those belongings. White people ought to have them all.”

His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’s got ’em! We’s got ’em! Dis ’ere yaller gal’s got letters!”

His remarks were interrupted by a chorus of voices shouting, “We’ve got them! We’ve got them! This light-skinned girl has letters!”

There was a general rush for the supposed letter, which, upon examination, proved to be some verses written to me by a friend. In packing away my things, I had overlooked them. When their captain informed them of their contents, they seemed much disappointed. He inquired of me who wrote them. I told him it was one of my friends. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I told him I could, he swore, and raved, and tore the paper into bits. “Bring me all your letters!” said he, in a commanding tone. I told him I had none. “Don’t be afraid,” he continued, in an insinuating way. “Bring them all to me. Nobody shall do you any harm.” Seeing I did not move to obey him, his pleasant tone changed to oaths and threats. “Who writes to you? half free niggers?” inquired he. I replied, “O, no; most of my letters are from white people. Some request me to burn them after they are read, and some I destroy without reading.”

Everyone rushed toward what they thought was a letter. When they examined it, they found verses a friend had written for me. I had overlooked them while packing my things. When their captain told them what the paper contained, they seemed very disappointed. He asked me who had written the verses. I told him it was a friend of mine. “Can you read them?” he asked. When I told him I could, he swore and raged, then tore the paper to bits. “Bring me all your letters!” he commanded. I told him I had none. “Don’t be afraid,” he continued in a coaxing tone. “Bring them all to me. Nobody will hurt you.” When he saw that I did not move to obey him, his pleasant tone turned to curses and threats. “Who writes to you? Half-free niggers?” he asked. I replied, “Oh, no. Most of my letters are from white people. Some ask me to burn their letters after I read them, and some I destroy without reading.”

An exclamation of surprise from some of the company put a stop to our conversation. Some silver spoons which ornamented an old-fashioned buffet had just been discovered. My grandmother was in the habit of preserving fruit for many ladies in the town, and of preparing suppers for parties; consequently she had many jars of preserves. The closet that contained these was next invaded, and the contents tasted. One of them, who was helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder, and said, “Wal done! Don’t wonder de niggers want to kill all de white folks, when dey live on ’sarves” [meaning preserves]. I stretched out my hand to take the jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweetmeats.”

A surprised exclamation from someone in the group stopped our conversation. They had just discovered some silver spoons displayed on an old-fashioned sideboard. My grandmother often preserved fruit for many ladies in town and prepared suppers for parties. As a result, she had many jars of preserves. The group next invaded the closet where she kept them and tasted the contents. One of them, helping himself freely, tapped his neighbor on the shoulder and said, “Well done! No wonder the niggers want to kill all the white folks when they live on preserves.” I reached out to take the jar, saying, “You were not sent here to search for sweets.”

“And what were we sent for?” said the captain, bristling up to me. I evaded the question.

“And what were we sent for?” the captain asked, bristling at me. I avoided the question.

The search of the house was completed, and nothing found to condemn us. They next proceeded to the garden, and knocked about every bush and vine, with no better success. The captain called his men together, and, after a short consultation, the order to march was given. As they passed out of the gate, the captain turned back, and pronounced a malediction on the house. He said it ought to be burned to the ground, and each of its inmates receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of this affair very fortunately; not losing any thing except some wearing apparel.

The search of the house was finished, and nothing was found to incriminate us. Next, the men searched the garden, beating through every bush and vine, but found nothing there either. The captain called his men together. After a brief discussion, he gave the order to march. As they passed through the gate, the captain turned back and cursed the house. He said it should be burned to the ground and everyone living in it should receive thirty-nine lashes. We came out of the ordeal very fortunately, losing nothing except some clothing.

Towards evening the turbulence increased. The soldiers, stimulated by drink, committed still greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts continually rent the air. Not daring to go to the door, I peeped under the window curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of colored people, each white man, with his musket upraised, threatening instant death if they did not stop their shrieks. Among the prisoners was a respectable old colored minister. They had found a few parcels of shot in his house, which his wife had for years used to balance her scales. For this they were going to shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle was that for a civilized country! A rabble, staggering under intoxication, assuming to be the administrators of justice!

By evening, the unrest grew worse. The soldiers, fueled by drink, committed even greater cruelties. Shrieks and shouts filled the air. I did not dare go to the door, so I peeped under the window curtain. I saw a mob dragging along a number of Black people. Each white man held his musket raised, threatening to kill them immediately if they did not stop shrieking. Among the prisoners was a respectable old Black minister. The mob had found a few packets of shot in his house. His wife had used the shot for years to balance her scales. Because of this, they were going to shoot him on Court House Green. What a spectacle for a civilized country! A drunken rabble pretending to be the administrators of justice!

The better class of the community exerted their influence to save the innocent, persecuted people; and in several instances they succeeded, by keeping them shut up in jail till the excitement abated. At last the white citizens found that their own property was not safe from the lawless rabble they had summoned to protect them. They rallied the drunken swarm, drove them back into the country, and set a guard over the town.

The more respectable members of the community used their influence to save the innocent people who were being persecuted. In several cases, they succeeded by keeping them in jail until the excitement died down. At last, the white citizens found that even their own property was unsafe from the lawless mob they had called in to protect them. They gathered the drunken crowd, drove them back into the countryside, and set a guard over the town.

The next day, the town patrols were commissioned to search colored people that lived out of the city; and the most shocking outrages were committed with perfect impunity. Every day for a fortnight, if I looked out, I saw horsemen with some poor panting negro tied to their saddles, and compelled by the lash to keep up with their speed, till they arrived at the jail yard. Those who had been whipped too unmercifully to walk were washed with brine, tossed into a cart, and carried to jail. One black man, who had not fortitude to endure scourging, promised to give information about the conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even heard the name of Nat Turner. The poor fellow had, however, made up a story, which augmented his own sufferings and those of the colored people.

The next day, town patrols were ordered to search Black people living outside the city. The patrols committed the most shocking abuses without any punishment. For two weeks, whenever I looked out, I saw horsemen with some poor, panting Black person tied to their saddles. The riders whipped them to make them keep up until they reached the jail yard. Those who had been whipped too brutally to walk were washed with salt water, tossed into a cart, and taken to jail. One Black man, unable to endure the whipping, promised to give information about the conspiracy. But it turned out that he knew nothing at all. He had not even heard Nat Turner's name. The poor man had made up a story, however, and it increased his own suffering and that of Black people.

The day patrol continued for some weeks, and at sundown a night guard was substituted. Nothing at all was proved against the colored people, bond or free. The wrath of the slaveholders was somewhat appeased by the capture of Nat Turner. The imprisoned were released. The slaves were sent to their masters, and the free were permitted to return to their ravaged homes. Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The slaves begged the privilege of again meeting at their little church in the woods, with their burying ground around it. It was built by the colored people, and they had no higher happiness than to meet there and sing hymns together, and pour out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the church was demolished. They were permitted to attend the white churches, a certain portion of the galleries being appropriated to their use. There, when every body else had partaken of the communion, and the benediction had been pronounced, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored friends.” They obeyed the summons, and partook of the bread and wine, in commemoration of the meek and lowly Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, and all ye are brethren.”

The day patrol continued for several weeks. At sundown, a night guard took its place. Nothing was proved against any of the Black people, enslaved or free. The slaveholders’ anger eased somewhat after Nat Turner was captured. The prisoners were released. The enslaved people were sent back to their masters, and the free people were allowed to return to their ravaged homes. Visiting was strictly forbidden on the plantations. The enslaved people begged to meet again at their little church in the woods, surrounded by their burial ground. Black people had built the church. Nothing made them happier than meeting there to sing hymns together and pour out their hearts in spontaneous prayer. Their request was denied, and the church was demolished. They were allowed to attend white churches, where a section of the galleries was set aside for them. There, after everyone else had received communion and the blessing had been given, the minister said, “Come down, now, my colored friends.” They obeyed and received the bread and wine in memory of the gentle and humble Jesus, who said, “God is your Father, and you are all brothers.”