An Important Time in My Brother’s Life

I missed the company and kind attentions of my brother William, who had gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters from him, written without any allusion to me, but expressed in such a manner that I knew he did not forget me. I disguised my hand, and wrote to him in the same manner. It was a long session; and when it closed, William wrote to inform us that Mr. Sands was going to the north, to be gone some time, and that he was to accompany him. I knew that his master had promised to give him his freedom, but no time had been specified. Would William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk together, in our young days, about obtaining our freedom, and I thought it very doubtful whether he would come back to us.

I missed the companionship and kindness of my brother William. He had gone to Washington with his master, Mr. Sands. We received several letters from William. He did not mention me in them, but I could tell from the way he wrote that he had not forgotten me. I disguised my handwriting and wrote to him in the same way. It was a long session. When it ended, William wrote to tell us that Mr. Sands was going north for some time, and that he would go with him. I knew that his master had promised to give him his freedom, but he had not said when. Would William trust to a slave’s chances? I remembered how we used to talk about gaining our freedom when we were young. I thought it very doubtful that he would come back to us.

Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands, saying that William had proved a most faithful servant, and he would also say a valued friend; that no mother had ever trained a better boy. He said he had travelled through the Northern States and Canada; and though the abolitionists had tried to decoy him away, they had never succeeded. He ended by saying they should be at home shortly.

Grandmother received a letter from Mr. Sands. He wrote that William had proved to be a very faithful servant and, he would add, a valued friend. He said no mother had ever raised a better boy. Mr. Sands said he had traveled through the Northern States and Canada. Although abolitionists had tried to lure William away, they had never succeeded. Mr. Sands ended by saying that they would be home soon.

We expected letters from William, describing the novelties of his journey, but none came. In time, it was reported that Mr. Sands would return late in the autumn, accompanied by a bride. Still no letters from William. I felt almost sure I should never see him again on southern soil; but had he no word of comfort to send to his friends at home? to the poor captive in her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past, and over the uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no eye but God’s could see me, I wept bitter tears. How earnestly I prayed to him to restore me to my children, and enable me to be a useful woman and a good mother!

We expected letters from William describing the new things he saw on his journey, but none came. Eventually, we heard that Mr. Sands would return late in the fall with a bride. Still, no letters came from William. I felt almost certain I would never see him again on southern soil. But did he have no words of comfort for his friends at home? None for the poor captive in her dungeon? My thoughts wandered through the dark past and the uncertain future. Alone in my cell, where no one but God could see me, I wept bitterly. How earnestly I prayed that he would bring me back to my children and help me become a useful woman and a good mother!

At last the day arrived for the return of the travellers. Grandmother had made loving preparations to welcome her absent boy back to the old hearthstone. When the dinner table was laid, William’s plate occupied its old place. The stage coach went by empty. My grandmother waited dinner. She thought perhaps he was necessarily detained by his master. In my prison I listened anxiously, expecting every moment to hear my dear brother’s voice and step. In the course of the afternoon a lad was sent by Mr. Sands to tell grandmother that William did not return with him; that the abolitionists had decoyed him away. But he begged her not to feel troubled about it, for he felt confident she would see William in a few days. As soon as he had time to reflect he would come back, for he could never expect to be so well off at the north as he had been with him.

At last, the day came for the travelers to return. Grandmother had lovingly prepared to welcome her absent son back to the family home. When she set the dinner table, William’s plate was in its usual place. The stagecoach went by empty. My grandmother waited to serve dinner. She thought perhaps his master had needed to delay him. In my prison, I listened anxiously, expecting to hear my dear brother’s voice and footsteps at any moment. That afternoon, Mr. Sands sent a boy to tell Grandmother that William had not returned with him. He said the abolitionists had lured William away. But he asked her not to worry. He was confident she would see William in a few days. Once William had time to think, he would come back. He could never expect to be as well off in the North as he had been with Mr. Sands.

If you had seen the tears, and heard the sobs, you would have thought the messenger had brought tidings of death instead of freedom. Poor old grandmother felt that she should never see her darling boy again. And I was selfish. I thought more of what I had lost, than of what my brother had gained. A new anxiety began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had expended a good deal of money, and would naturally feel irritated by the loss he had incurred. I greatly feared this might injure the prospects of my children, who were now becoming valuable property. I longed to have their emancipation made certain. The more so, because their master and father was now married. I was too familiar with slavery not to know that promises made to slaves, though with kind intentions, and sincere at the time, depend upon many contingencies for their fulfilment.

If you had seen the tears and heard the sobs, you would have thought the messenger had brought news of death, not freedom. Poor old grandmother felt she would never see her darling boy again. And I was selfish. I thought more about what I had lost than about what my brother had gained. A new worry began to trouble me. Mr. Sands had spent a great deal of money and would naturally feel irritated by the loss. I was very afraid that this loss might harm my children’s prospects. They were now becoming valuable property. I longed to make certain that they would be freed. I wanted this even more because their master and father was now married. I knew slavery too well not to understand that promises made to enslaved people depended on many circumstances. Even when made with kind intentions and sincere at the time, such promises might not be kept.

Much as I wished William to be free, the step he had taken made me sad and anxious. The following Sabbath was calm and clear; so beautiful that it seemed like a Sabbath in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the children out on the piazza, that I might hear their voices. She thought it would comfort me in my despondency; and it did. They chatted merrily, as only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has gone for good? Won’t he ever come back again? May be he’ll find mother. If he does, won’t she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle Phillip, and all of us, go and live where mother is? I should like it; wouldn’t you, Ellen?”

As much as I wanted William to be free, what he had done made me sad and anxious. The following Sunday was calm and clear. It was so beautiful that it seemed like a Sunday in the eternal world. My grandmother brought the children onto the porch so I could hear their voices. She thought hearing them would comfort me in my sadness, and it did. They chatted happily, as only children can. Benny said, “Grandmother, do you think uncle Will has gone for good? Won’t he ever come back? Maybe he’ll find mother. If he does, won’t she be glad to see him! Why don’t you and uncle Phillip and all of us go and live where mother is? I would like that. Wouldn’t you, Ellen?”

“Yes, I should like it,” replied Ellen; “but how could we find her? Do you know the place, grandmother? I don’t remember how mother looked—do you, Benny?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Ellen replied. “But how could we find her? Do you know where the place is, Grandmother? I don’t remember what Mother looked like. Do you, Benny?”

Benny was just beginning to describe me when they were interrupted by an old slave woman, a near neighbor, named Aggie. This poor creature had witnessed the sale of her children, and seen them carried off to parts unknown, without any hopes of ever hearing from them again. She saw that my grandmother had been weeping, and she said, in a sympathizing tone, “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?”

Benny was just beginning to describe me when an older enslaved woman named Aggie interrupted him. She was a close neighbor. This poor woman had watched her children being sold and taken away to unknown places. She had no hope of ever hearing from them again. She saw that my grandmother had been crying and asked sympathetically, “What’s the matter, aunt Marthy?”

“O Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I shouldn’t have any of my children or grandchildren left to hand me a drink when I’m dying, and lay my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He staid at the north.”

“Oh, Aggie,” she replied, “it seems as if I won’t have any of my children or grandchildren left. None will be there to give me a drink when I’m dying and lay my old body in the ground. My boy didn’t come back with Mr. Sands. He stayed in the North.”

Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is dat what you’s crying fur?” she exclaimed. “Git down on your knees and bress de Lord! I don’t know whar my poor chillern is, and I nebber ’spect to know. You don’t know whar poor Linda’s gone to; but you do know whar her brudder is. He’s in free parts; and dat’s de right place. Don’t murmur at de Lord’s doings, but git down on your knees and tank him for his goodness.”

Poor old Aggie clapped her hands for joy. “Is that what you’re crying for?” she exclaimed. “Get down on your knees and bless the Lord! I don’t know where my poor children are, and I never expect to know. You don’t know where poor Linda has gone, but you do know where her brother is. He’s in a free place, and that’s the right place for him. Don’t complain about what the Lord has done. Get down on your knees and thank him for his goodness.”

My selfishness was rebuked by what poor Aggie said. She rejoiced over the escape of one who was merely her fellow-bondman, while his own sister was only thinking what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and prayed God to forgive me; and I thanked him from my heart, that one of my family was saved from the grasp of slavery.

What poor Aggie said made me ashamed of my selfishness. She was happy that a fellow enslaved person had escaped. Yet his own sister was thinking only of what his good fortune might cost her children. I knelt and prayed for God to forgive me. I thanked him with all my heart that one of my family had escaped slavery’s grasp.

It was not long before we received a letter from William. He wrote that Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly, and that he had tried to do his duty to him faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, he had longed to be free; and he had already gone through enough to convince him he had better not lose the chance that offered. He concluded by saying, “Don’t worry about me, dear grandmother. I shall think of you always; and it will spur me on to work hard and try to do right. When I have earned money enough to give you a home, perhaps you will come to the north, and we can all live happy together.”

Soon afterward, we received a letter from William. He wrote that Mr. Sands had always treated him kindly. He had tried to serve Mr. Sands faithfully. But ever since he was a boy, William had longed to be free. He had been through enough to know he should not pass up the chance to be free. He ended by saying, “Don’t worry about me, dear grandmother. I will always think of you. That will encourage me to work hard and try to do what is right. When I have earned enough money to give you a home, perhaps you will come north. Then we can all live happily together.”

Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the particulars about William’s leaving him. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him as kindly. The abolitionists talked to him in several places; but I had no idea they could tempt him. However, I don’t blame William. He’s young and inconsiderate, and those Northern rascals decoyed him. I must confess the scamp was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor House with his trunk on his shoulder, and I asked him where he was going. He said he was going to change his old trunk. I told him it was rather shabby, and asked if he didn’t need some money. He said, No, thanked me, and went off. He did not return so soon as I expected; but I waited patiently. At last I went to see if our trunks were packed, ready for our journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table informed me where I could find the keys. The fellow even tried to be religious. He wrote that he hoped God would always bless me, and reward me for my kindness; that he was not unwilling to serve me; but he wanted to be a free man; and that if I thought he did wrong, he hoped I would forgive him. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He might have trusted me. He has shown himself ungrateful; but I shall not go for him, or send for him. I feel confident that he will soon return to me.”

Mr. Sands told my uncle Phillip the details of William’s departure. He said, “I trusted him as if he were my own brother, and treated him just as kindly. Abolitionists spoke to him in several places, but I had no idea they could tempt him. Still, I don’t blame William. He’s young and thoughtless, and those Northern scoundrels lured him away. I must admit the rascal was very bold about it. I met him coming down the steps of the Astor House with his trunk on his shoulder. I asked where he was going. He said he was going to exchange his old trunk. I told him it was rather shabby and asked if he needed some money. He said no, thanked me, and went off. “He didn’t return as soon as I expected, but I waited patiently. Finally, I went to see if our trunks were packed and ready for our journey. I found them locked, and a sealed note on the table told me where to find the keys. The fellow even tried to sound religious. He wrote that he hoped God would always bless me and reward me for my kindness. He said he was willing to serve me, but he wanted to be a free man. He also hoped I would forgive him if I thought he had done wrong. I intended to give him his freedom in five years. He could have trusted me. He has shown himself to be ungrateful, but I won’t go after him or send anyone for him. I’m confident he’ll soon return to me.”

I afterwards heard an account of the affair from William himself. He had not been urged away by abolitionists. He needed no information they could give him about slavery to stimulate his desire for freedom. He looked at his hands, and remembered that they were once in irons. What security had he that they would not be so again? Mr. Sands was kind to him; but he might indefinitely postpone the promise he had made to give him his freedom. He might come under pecuniary embarrassments, and his property be seized by creditors; or he might die, without making any arrangements in his favor. He had too often known such accidents to happen to slaves who had kind masters, and he wisely resolved to make sure of the present opportunity to own himself. He was scrupulous about taking any money from his master on false pretences; so he sold his best clothes to pay for his passage to Boston. The slaveholders pronounced him a base, ungrateful wretch, for thus requiting his master’s indulgence. What would they have done under similar circumstances?

I later heard William’s own account of what happened. Abolitionists had not urged him to leave. He needed no information from them about slavery to make him want freedom. He looked at his hands and remembered that they had once been in irons. How could he be sure they would not be again? Mr. Sands was kind to him, but he might keep putting off his promise to free him. Mr. Sands might run into financial trouble, and his creditors might seize his property. Or he might die without making any arrangements for William. William had too often known such things to happen to enslaved people with kind masters. So he wisely decided to take the opportunity to be his own master. He was careful not to take any money from his master under false pretenses. So he sold his best clothes to pay for his passage to Boston. The slaveholders called him a vile, ungrateful wretch for repaying his master’s kindness this way. What would they have done under similar circumstances?

When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had deserted Mr. Sands, they chuckled greatly over the news. Mrs. Flint made her usual manifestations of Christian feeling, by saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he’ll never get him again. I like to see people paid back in their own coin. I reckon Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I should be glad to see them in the speculator’s hands again, for I’m tired of seeing those little niggers march about the streets.”

When Dr. Flint’s family heard that William had left Mr. Sands, they laughed heartily at the news. Mrs. Flint showed her usual Christian spirit, saying, “I’m glad of it. I hope he never gets William back. I like to see people get a taste of their own medicine. I suppose Linda’s children will have to pay for it. I’d be glad to see them in the slave trader’s hands again. I’m tired of seeing those little niggers marching around the streets.”