The Fugitive Slave Law

My brother, being disappointed in his project, concluded to go to California; and it was agreed that Benjamin should go with him. Ellen liked her school, and was a great favorite there. They did not know her history, and she did not tell it, because she had no desire to make capital out of their sympathy. But when it was accidentally discovered that her mother was a fugitive slave, every method was used to increase her advantages and diminish her expenses.

My brother was disappointed in his project and decided to go to California. It was agreed that Benjamin would go with him. Ellen liked her school and was very popular there. People at the school did not know her history, and she did not tell them. She had no desire to benefit from their sympathy. But when they accidentally discovered that her mother was a fugitive slave, they did everything they could to give Ellen more opportunities and reduce her expenses.

I was alone again. It was necessary for me to be earning money, and I preferred that it should be among those who knew me. On my return from Rochester, I called at the house of Mr. Bruce, to see Mary, the darling little babe that had thawed my heart, when it was freezing into a cheerless distrust of all my fellow-beings. She was growing a tall girl now, but I loved her always. Mr. Bruce had married again, and it was proposed that I should become nurse to a new infant. I had but one hesitation, and that was my feeling of insecurity in New York, now greatly increased by the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law. However, I resolved to try the experiment. I was again fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. Bruce was an American, brought up under aristocratic influences, and still living in the midst of them; but if she had any prejudice against color, I was never made aware of it; and as for the system of slavery, she had a most hearty dislike of it. No sophistry of Southerners could blind her to its enormity. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. To me, from that hour to the present, she has been a true and sympathizing friend. Blessings be with her and hers!

I was alone again. I needed to earn money, and I preferred to work among people who knew me. When I returned from Rochester, I visited Mr. Bruce’s house to see Mary. As a darling little baby, she had warmed my heart when it was growing cold with a bleak distrust of everyone. She was growing into a tall girl now, but I still loved her. Mr. Bruce had remarried, and I was offered a position caring for a new baby. I had only one hesitation: I felt unsafe in New York. The passage of the Fugitive Slave Law had made me feel much less secure. Still, I decided to try it. Once again, I was fortunate in my employer. The new Mrs. Bruce was American. She had been raised among aristocratic influences and still lived among them. But if she had any prejudice against people of color, she never showed it to me. She also deeply disliked slavery. No clever arguments from Southerners could blind her to how terrible slavery was. She was a person of excellent principles and a noble heart. From that time until now, she has been a true and understanding friend to me. Blessings on her and her family!

About the time that I reëntered the Bruce family, an event occurred of disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the bloodhounds of the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on in its whirl of excitement, taking no note of the “short and simple annals of the poor.” But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from Zion’s church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as “the child follows the condition of its mother,” the children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the legislators of the “dominant race” for the blood they were crushing out of trampled hearts?

Around the time I returned to the Bruce family, an event brought disaster to Black people. Hamlin was the first fugitive slave caught under the new law. The bloodhounds of the north handed him over to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign of terror for Black people. The great city rushed on in its whirl of excitement, paying no attention to the “short and simple annals of the poor.” But while fashionable people listened to Jenny Lind’s thrilling voice in Metropolitan Hall, other voices rose from Zion’s church. Poor, hunted Black people cried out to the Lord, pleading in agony. Many families who had lived in the city for twenty years now fled. Many a poor washerwoman had made herself a comfortable home through hard work. Now she had to give up her furniture, say a hurried goodbye to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wife learned a secret she had never known before. Her husband was a fugitive and had to leave her to ensure his own safety. Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had escaped slavery years before. And because “the child follows the condition of its mother,” their beloved children could be seized and carried into slavery. Everywhere in those humble homes, there was fear and anguish. But what did the legislators of the “dominant race” care about the blood they were crushing out of trampled hearts?

When my brother William spent his last evening with me, before he went to California, we talked nearly all the time of the distress brought on our oppressed people by the passage of this iniquitous law; and never had I seen him manifest such bitterness of spirit, such stern hostility to our oppressors. He was himself free from the operation of the law; for he did not run from any Slaveholding State, being brought into the Free States by his master. But I was subject to it; and so were hundreds of intelligent and industrious people all around us. I seldom ventured into the streets; and when it was necessary to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, or any of the family, I went as much as possible through back streets and by-ways. What a disgrace to a city calling itself free, that inhabitants, guiltless of offence, and seeking to perform their duties conscientiously, should be condemned to live in such incessant fear, and have nowhere to turn for protection! This state of things, of course, gave rise to many impromptu vigilance committees. Every colored person, and every friend of their persecuted race, kept their eyes wide open. Every evening I examined the newspapers carefully, to see what Southerners had put up at the hotels. I did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might be among the list; I wished also to give information to others, if necessary; for if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that “knowledge should be increased.”

When my brother William spent his last evening with me before leaving for California, we talked almost the whole time. We spoke about the suffering this unjust law had brought upon our oppressed people. I had never seen him so bitter or so fiercely hostile toward our oppressors. The law did not apply to him. He had not escaped from a slaveholding state, because his master had brought him into the Free States. But the law did apply to me, and to hundreds of intelligent and hardworking people all around us. I rarely dared to go out into the streets. When I had to run an errand for Mrs. Bruce or anyone in the family, I took back streets and side roads whenever possible. What a disgrace for a city that called itself free! Its residents had committed no crime and were trying to do their duties conscientiously. Yet they were condemned to live in constant fear, with nowhere to turn for protection! These conditions naturally led to the formation of many makeshift vigilance committees. Every Black person and every friend of their persecuted race kept watch. Every evening, I carefully checked the newspapers to see which Southerners were staying at the hotels. I did this for my own sake, thinking my young mistress and her husband might be on the list. I also wanted to warn others if necessary. For if many were “running to and fro,” I resolved that “knowledge should be increased.”

This brings up one of my Southern reminiscences, which I will here briefly relate. I was somewhat acquainted with a slave named Luke, who belonged to a wealthy man in our vicinity. His master died, leaving a son and daughter heirs to his large fortune. In the division of the slaves, Luke was included in the son’s portion. This young man became a prey to the vices growing out of the “patriarchal institution,” and when he went to the north, to complete his education, he carried his vices with him. He was brought home, deprived of the use of his limbs, by excessive dissipation. Luke was appointed to wait upon his bed-ridden master, whose despotic habits were greatly increased by exasperation at his own helplessness. He kept a cowhide beside him, and, for the most trivial occurrence, he would order his attendant to bare his back, and kneel beside the couch, while he whipped him till his strength was exhausted. Some days he was not allowed to wear any thing but his shirt, in order to be in readiness to be flogged. A day seldom passed without his receiving more or less blows. If the slightest resistance was offered, the town constable was sent for to execute the punishment, and Luke learned from experience how much more the constable’s strong arm was to be dreaded than the comparatively feeble one of his master. The arm of his tyrant grew weaker, and was finally palsied; and then the constable’s services were in constant requisition. The fact that he was entirely dependent on Luke’s care, and was obliged to be tended like an infant, instead of inspiring any gratitude or compassion towards his poor slave, seemed only to increase his irritability and cruelty. As he lay there on his bed, a mere degraded wreck of manhood, he took into his head the strangest freaks of despotism; and if Luke hesitated to submit to his orders, the constable was immediately sent for. Some of these freaks were of a nature too filthy to be repeated. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch.

This brings to mind a memory from the South, which I will briefly tell here. I knew an enslaved man named Luke who belonged to a wealthy man in our area. His master died, leaving his large fortune to his son and daughter. When the enslaved people were divided, Luke became part of the son’s share. The young man fell prey to the vices that grew out of the “patriarchal institution.” When he went north to finish his education, he took his vices with him. He was brought home unable to use his limbs because of his excessive dissipation. Luke was assigned to care for his bedridden master. The master’s frustration at his own helplessness made him even more tyrannical. He kept a cowhide whip beside him. At the slightest provocation, he would order Luke to bare his back and kneel beside the bed. Then he would whip Luke until he had no strength left. On some days, Luke was allowed to wear only his shirt so he would be ready for a whipping. He was beaten to some degree almost every day. If Luke offered the slightest resistance, his master sent for the town constable to carry out the punishment. Luke learned from experience how much more he had to fear the constable’s strong arm than his master’s comparatively weak one. His tyrant’s arm grew weaker and was finally paralyzed. After that, the constable’s services were constantly called upon. The master depended entirely on Luke’s care and had to be tended like an infant. Yet instead of making him grateful or compassionate toward his poor slave, this dependence seemed only to make him more irritable and cruel. As he lay in bed, a degraded wreck of a man, he dreamed up the strangest acts of tyranny. If Luke hesitated to obey his orders, the constable was sent for immediately. Some of these acts were too filthy to repeat. When I fled from the house of bondage, I left poor Luke still chained to the bedside of this cruel and disgusting wretch.

One day, when I had been requested to do an errand for Mrs. Bruce, I was hurrying through back streets, as usual, when I saw a young man approaching, whose face was familiar to me. As he came nearer, I recognized Luke. I always rejoiced to see or hear of any one who had escaped from the black pit; but, remembering this poor fellow’s extreme hardships, I was peculiarly glad to see him on Northern soil, though I no longer called it free soil. I well remembered what a desolate feeling it was to be alone among strangers, and I went up to him and greeted him cordially. At first, he did not know me; but when I mentioned my name, he remembered all about me. I told him of the Fugitive Slave Law, and asked him if he did not know that New York was a city of kidnappers.

One day, Mrs. Bruce asked me to run an errand. As usual, I hurried through the back streets and saw a young man approaching. His face looked familiar. As he came closer, I recognized Luke. I was always glad to see or hear about anyone who had escaped from the black pit. But I remembered the terrible hardships Luke had endured. So I was especially glad to see him on Northern soil, though I no longer called it free soil. I remembered well how lonely it felt to be alone among strangers. So I went up to him and greeted him warmly. At first, he did not recognize me. But when I told him my name, he remembered all about me. I told him about the Fugitive Slave Law and asked if he knew that New York was a city of kidnappers.

He replied, “De risk ain’t so bad for me, as ’tis fur you. ’Cause I runned away from de speculator, and you runned away from de massa. Dem speculators vont spen dar money to come here fur a runaway, if dey ain’t sartin sure to put dar hans right on him. An I tell you I’s tuk good car ’bout dat. I had too hard times down dar, to let ’em ketch dis nigger.”

He replied, “The risk isn’t as bad for me as it is for you. That’s because I ran away from the slave trader, and you ran away from the master. Slave traders won’t spend their money to come here for a runaway unless they’re certain they can catch him. And I can tell you, I’ve taken good care to make sure they can’t catch me. I had too hard a time down there to let them catch this Black man.”

He then told me of the advice he had received, and the plans he had laid. I asked if he had money enough to take him to Canada. “’Pend upon it, I hab,” he replied. “I tuk car fur dat. I’d bin workin all my days fur dem cussed whites, an got no pay but kicks and cuffs. So I tought dis nigger had a right to money nuff to bring him to de Free States. Massa Henry he lib till ebery body vish him dead; an ven he did die, I knowed de debbil would hab him, an vouldn’t vant him to bring his money ’long too. So I tuk some of his bills, and put ’em in de pocket of his ole trousers. An ven he was buried, dis nigger ask fur dem ole trousers, an dey gub ’em to me.” With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see I didn’t steal it; dey gub it to me. I tell you, I had mighty hard time to keep de speculator from findin it; but he didn’t git it.”

He then told me about the advice he had received and the plans he had made. I asked if he had enough money to get to Canada. “You can count on it,” he replied. “I took care of that. I’d worked all my life for those cursed white people and got nothing but kicks and blows. So I thought this nigger had a right to enough money to get to the Free States. Master Henry lived until everybody wished him dead. And when he did die, I knew the devil would have him and wouldn’t want him to bring his money along too. So I took some of his bills and put them in the pocket of his old trousers. And when he was buried, this nigger asked for those old trousers, and they gave them to me.” With a low, chuckling laugh, he added, “You see, I didn’t steal it. They gave it to me. I tell you, I had a mighty hard time keeping the slave trader from finding it, but he didn’t get it.”

This is a fair specimen of how the moral sense is educated by slavery. When a man has his wages stolen from him, year after year, and the laws sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard to honesty than has the man who robs him? I have become somewhat enlightened, but I confess that I agree with poor, ignorant, much-abused Luke, in thinking he had a right to that money, as a portion of his unpaid wages. He went to Canada forthwith, and I have not since heard from him.

This is a clear example of how slavery shapes people’s moral sense. A man’s wages are stolen from him year after year, and the laws allow and enforce the theft. How, then, can he be expected to be more honest than the man who robs him? I have become somewhat more educated, but I admit that I agree with poor, uneducated, much-abused Luke. I think he had a right to that money as a portion of his unpaid wages. He went to Canada immediately, and I have not heard from him since.

All that winter I lived in a state of anxiety. When I took the children out to breathe the air, I closely observed the countenances of all I met. I dreaded the approach of summer, when snakes and slaveholders make their appearance. I was, in fact, a slave in New York, as subject to slave laws as I had been in a Slave State. Strange incongruity in a State called free!

All that winter I lived in fear. When I took the children outside for fresh air, I studied the faces of everyone I met. I dreaded the coming of summer, when snakes and slaveholders appear. In fact, I was a slave in New York, just as subject to slave laws as I had been in a slave state. What a strange contradiction in a state called free!

Spring returned, and I received warning from the south that Dr. Flint knew of my return to my old place, and was making preparations to have me caught. I learned afterwards that my dress, and that of Mrs. Bruce’s children, had been described to him by some of the Northern tools, which slaveholders employ for their base purposes, and then indulge in sneers at their cupidity and mean servility.

Spring returned, and I received a warning from the South. Dr. Flint knew I had returned to my old place and was preparing to have me caught. I later learned that some Northern agents had described my clothes and those of Mrs. Bruce’s children to him. Slaveholders use these agents for their vile purposes, then sneer at their greed and shameful servility.

I immediately informed Mrs. Bruce of my danger, and she took prompt measures for my safety. My place as nurse could not be supplied immediately, and this generous, sympathizing lady proposed that I should carry her baby away. It was a comfort to me to have the child with me; for the heart is reluctant to be torn away from every object it loves. But how few mothers would have consented to have one of their own babes become a fugitive, for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse, on whom the legislators of the country had let loose the bloodhounds! When I spoke of the sacrifice she was making, in depriving herself of her dear baby, she replied, “It is better for you to have baby with you, Linda; for if they get on your track, they will be obliged to bring the child to me; and then, if there is a possibility of saving you, you shall be saved.”

I immediately told Mrs. Bruce about the danger I was in, and she quickly took steps to protect me. She could not find a replacement nurse right away. So this generous, caring lady suggested that I take her baby away with me. Having the child with me was a comfort. The heart is reluctant to be torn away from everything it loves. But how few mothers would have agreed to let their own baby become a fugitive for the sake of a poor, hunted nurse! The country’s lawmakers had let the bloodhounds loose on that nurse. I spoke of the sacrifice Mrs. Bruce was making by giving up her dear baby. She replied, “It is better for you to have the baby with you, Linda. If they get on your trail, they will have to bring the child to me. And then, if there is any way to save you, you will be saved.”

This lady had a very wealthy relative, a benevolent gentleman in many respects, but aristocratic and pro-slavery. He remonstrated with her for harboring a fugitive slave; told her she was violating the laws of her country; and asked her if she was aware of the penalty. She replied, “I am very well aware of it. It is imprisonment and one thousand dollars fine. Shame on my country that it is so! I am ready to incur the penalty. I will go to the state’s prison, rather than have any poor victim torn from my house, to be carried back to slavery.”

This lady had a very wealthy relative who was generous in many ways, but aristocratic and in favor of slavery. He criticized her for sheltering a fugitive slave. He told her she was breaking her country’s laws and asked if she knew the penalty. She replied, “I know it very well. It is imprisonment and a fine of one thousand dollars. Shame on my country that this is the penalty! I am ready to face it. I would rather go to state prison than have any poor victim torn from my house and taken back into slavery.”

The noble heart! The brave heart! The tears are in my eyes while I write of her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her sympathy with my persecuted people!

What a noble heart! What a brave heart! Tears fill my eyes as I write about her. May the God of the helpless reward her for her compassion for my persecuted people!

I was sent into New England, where I was sheltered by the wife of a senator, whom I shall always hold in grateful remembrance. This honorable gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as did the senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin;” on the contrary, he was strongly opposed to it; but he was enough under its influence to be afraid of having me remain in his house many hours. So I was sent into the country, where I remained a month with the baby. When it was supposed that Dr. Flint’s emissaries had lost track of me, and given up the pursuit for the present, I returned to New York.

I was sent to New England, where a senator’s wife gave me shelter. I will always remember her with gratitude. This honorable gentleman would not have voted for the Fugitive Slave Law, as the senator in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” did. On the contrary, he strongly opposed the law. But he was still enough under its influence to fear keeping me in his house for many hours. So I was sent to the country, where I stayed for a month with the baby. People then believed that Dr. Flint’s agents had lost track of me and given up the search for the time being. So I returned to New York.