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LETTER
Washington, D.C. Feb. 6th, 1838.
MY DEAR BROTHER, -- At the Convention held at Harrisburg, it was agreed upon by
the delegates from the western part of Penn. and myself, that I should proceed
to that region as soon as my engagements would permit, with the view of laboring
there in the duties of my agency. But being desirous to visit our national
capitol, not only for my own participation, but because I supposed in so doing I
might subserve the interests of our cause, I was induced to pursue a rather
circuitous route to the scene of my future labors, for the purpose of taking
this city in my way. An account of some of the incidents with which I have met,
in the meantime, I think will not be without interest to you and your readers.
I left Harrisburg last Tuesday morning, in the stage for Baltimore. Nothing
occurred to beguile away the tedium of our journey, excepting a little disputing
on the subject of abolition, until we had crossed the Maryland line, some
distance. There we stopped to take in passengers. Among these was a young
slaveholder, belonging to a very wealthy family of that neighborhood. He was a
fair specimen of southern 'bloods,' and one of the proudest and most profane men
I ever saw. When I first noticed him, which was in the tavern before we got into
the stage, he was amusing himself with a well trained but very fierce bull-dog,
which he would start with a hiss after some of the men about the house, and stop
him before he could bite them. The people of the tavern endured his overbearing
rudeness with a very ill grace, but were unwilling as I supposed to lose his
patronage, by crossing him. When he got into the stage, he seemed disposed to
give us a specimen of his spirit, in the curses he heaped upon his unoffending
slave, who brought his baggage to be put into the boot. After we started and had
rode some distance, he espied a little colored boy on horseback, at some
distance from the road. He demanded of him, in a fierce and most profane manner,
what he was doing there. Of course, the reply of the little boy, at such a
distance, could not be heard for the noise of the coach. He called upon him to
come up to him -- the boy hesitated, as the stage was going very fast. He then
in a tone and manner which seemed to frighten the boy, ordered him immediately
to ride up along side of the stage. This he did, and rode along with the stage
until his master, so called, had catechized him sufficiently. He then gave him
some curses and dismissed him.
These things seemed to excite little sensation among the other passengers, but
to me it was exceedingly painful. It was painful to witness the horrid effect of
slavery upon the temper and morals of the master; it was touching to see the
poor boy's spirit broken by tyranny, and crouching with abject fear before such
a consummate young ruffian, and it was a matter of painful reflection to think,
that this fellow had absolute power over these and others of his fellow-men, and
to have proof furnished that he made abundant use of that power.
When he left the stage, which he soon did, one of the passengers observed, that
was Young Mr. J. P_____, a high fellow, but having some fine traits of character
-- he loses a good deal of money gambling, but fortunately he is not intemperate
-- adding that he was now on his way to Philadelphia after a runaway slave.
We arrived in Baltimore that evening, and at 9 o'clock the next morning set out
for Washington. -- As the country through which we passed is very
barren and
devoid of interest, I threw myself up to my own reflections. From these I was
not aroused until we reached a stopping place about 12 miles from this city.
Here as I was getting out of the car, a man opened the door of a baggage car
which was next before ours, and was urging in a colored lad -- "come get in --
hurry away -- get in." Then another was brought and put in -- and another in the
same way. Then came the mother with an infant on her bosom -- the tears pouring
over her cheeks, and sobbing as though her very heart was broken. Last of all
came the sad looking father with his youngest boy; they entered the car with the
rest, and the white man first mentioned, who it appeared was the purchaser along
with them. -- When the cars started, the colored people left behind (slaves, I
suppose) came to the door, and kept bowing farewell until we got out of sight.
As we passed a field in which some hands were at work, the poor fellow just now
spoken of as the father, looked out, and in the most touching manner cried,
"farewell! farewell!" adding with a kind of melancholy satisfaction, "I've got
my whole family with me!" I turned away from the sad scene. If this is the pain,
thought I, inflicted by this traffic, where these ties are ruthlessly sundered!
As such reflections were rushing upon my mind, I was joined by the friend, with
whom I had the dispute the day before, and who had berated the abolitionists
without mercy; "There, Mr. M'Kim, there's a case for you."
“Yes,” said I, “a case for you too, Mr. ______. What do you think of it?”
"Oh, it's too bad, it's horrid," said he, "it's DIABOLICAL." And having thus
begun, he continued to assert his abhorrence of the system of slavery in terms
that would have been regarded as very denunciatory, if found in
the columns of
the Liberator. Our conversation was at length interrupted by our arrival of the
city depot.
I took lodgings of a private boarding house, and with as little delay as
possible, hastened to the Capitol. Soon after I got into the "House,"
Mr. Adams
took the floor, in continuation of a speech began on a former occasion, on our
relations with Mexico. He was [ ] in severe terms upon the conduct of the
administration, in taking a hostile attitude towards that government, when he
was interrupted with the annunciation that the House had arrived for the “order
of the day." This was a question which was producing much excitement among party
politicians, but which possessed no interest for me -- further than it served to
elicit exhibitions of the mental powers of distinguished members of the House,
with whose names the nation is familiar. Thus went by the day.
The next morning, in pursuance of the main object of my visit to this place, I
set our for W. H. Williams' Slave-factory. It was a matter of some doubt to me,
as I went along, whether I should get in. I had been told, that if I wanted to
get admittance I must "let on" that I wanted to buy slaves. This of course I
could not do; but made up my mind to be perfectly candid and practice no kind of
deception. I enquired for the place -- and was directed to it by a colored man;
and by the way you need never be at a loss to find that house, while there is a
colored man in Washington to enquire of. It was in 7th street, between
Pennsylvania and Maryland avenues, not far from the centre of the city, and
within a short distance of the stars and stripes of the capitol. It is a large
but lonely and desolated looking house. I rapped at the door, which after
waiting some time, was opened by a stout, thickset man, dressed in a pea jacket,
coat and fur cap, with large whiskers and stern countenance.
“Is Mr. Williams at home?”
"No, sir, he is in Natchez."
"Have you any negroes now on hand?"
"Yes, sir, we have a few; walk in."
"I don't wish to purchase any -- I merely wish to see your establishment -- if
you have no objection."
"None at all, walk in sir, Mr. Williams is now residing in Natchez -- I am here
as his agent. We have very few slaves for sale of our own -- most that are here
belong to other people." While thus talking, he took me in and handed me a seat.
After some further conversation, into which he seemed to enter with much
freedom, I again observed that I had no "intention of purchasing, but wished to
see, for my own gratification, his establishment, if he had no objections."
"None at all, sir," and with that he went to a window on one side of the room,
and opened the shutters -- threw up the sash, and invited me to look out. "This
is our 'pen' sir. "Here," continued he, while I surveyed an area of about 40
feet square, enclosed partly by high jail walls built for the purpose, "here we
allow them to take exercise, and the children to play." As it was very cold, the
'pen' was empty. They were all down in the cellar, the agent said. I asked to go
down and see them. He accordingly led the way through a winding passage out into
a temporary enclosure which communicates with the 'pen.' He took out of his
pocket a key -- opened the lock of a huge iron cross-barred gate, which admitted
us to the space within. He then opened a door which led us into the 'cellar.'
Here, in an apartment of about 25 feet square, were about 30 slaves of all ages,
sizes, and colors. I noticed one young girl of about 12 years of age,
who seemed
quite white, and another a little child about two years old, of the same shade
and one of the most beautiful children I ever saw. The very small children were
gamboling about unconscious of their situation; but those of more advanced age
were the most melancholy looking beings. The wistful, inquiring, anxious looks
they cast at me (presuming I suppose that I came as a purchaser) were hard to
endure. I soon described the father and his family, that I saw torn away from
their former home, the day before. "Where is your master taking you?" said the
agent to the man in answer to a question of mine put to him of the same import:
"To Alabama - I believe they call it," said the man in tones of the deepest
sadness. His wife sat beside the stove amusing her infant and never once looked
up all the time we were in. Not feeling at liberty to ask questions of these
poor things -- I soon turned away. He then led me to two other apartments of
about the same size; one of them not now used, the other appropriated as a
sleeping apartment to the females. -- "Do all of these persons sleep down in
that cellar?"
"Yes, sir -- all the males: -- they lie upon the floor -- each one has got a
couple of blankets."
"But will that room accommodate so many?"
"O Lord, yes, sir, three times as many! -- last year we had as many as 139 in
these three rooms." I could hardly see how this was possible without their lying
on each other. "Well, very few, you say, of these persons belong to you."
"Only a few, sir, -- most of them are put here by other gentlemen. You see, we
can afford to keep them for 9 cents apiece cheaper than they can at the jail."
"What is your charge?"
"25 cents a day for all except children at the breast." He then showed me a
table at one side of the enclosure where their meals were served up. It was in
the open air, with no other protection than a covering from the storm. In answer
to my inquiries, he told me they took their meals in the open air summer and
winter.
"But" said I, “don't they suffer very much from the cold?”
"O Lord, no, sir, they squat down and eat in ten minutes. We give them plenty of
substantial food -- herring, coffee sweetened with molasses and corn bread."
"How many meals do you give them in a day?"
"Two sir, -- one at 9 o'clock and the other at 3."
After a good many other questions and answers which I have either forgotten, or
deem unnecessary to mention, we returned to the room into which I was first
introduced upon coming to the house: and taking seats by the fire, we continued
our conversation.
I have no room for comment. None, however, is necessity. The guilt! the shame!
the heartlessness! the hypocrisy of this nation! will be thoughts that will
naturally crowd themselves upon the minds of your readers. These are some of the
abominations that exist in the District of Columbia! the national domain of the
American REPUBLIC! within sight of the Capitol and under the stars and stripes
of our national flag! - Aye, the fustian flag, that proudly waves in solemn
mockery, o'er a LAND OF SLAVES!
Yours unfeignedly,
J.M. M'KIM.
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Notes
James Miller McKim
Born in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, James Miller McKim began lecturing for the
American Anti-Slavery Society in 1836. He became involved with publishing
the Pennsylvania Freeman in 1840, and became corresponding secretary for the
Pennsylvania Anti-Slavery Society, settling in Philadelphia. J. Miller
McKim was present when the crate containing
Henry "Box" Brown was opened at PAS headquarters. He frequently
defended fugitive slaves brought before the Federal slave commissioner in
Philadelphia. McKim and his wife Sarah attended the
execution of John Brown and accompanied
Brown's wife in claiming his body and bringing it home.
The Colored American
African American abolitionist newspaper published in New York City by Samuel
Cornish, Charles Bennett Ray and Philip Bell. It had the support of the
American Anti-Slavery Society--for whom J. Miller McKim was working--which urged
its members to buy subscriptions. McKim's salutation "My Dear Brother"
probably refers to Samuel Cornish.
Harrisburg Anti-Slavery Convention
Commencing on January 16, 1838 and running most of the week, this was the second
annual convention of state anti-slavery societies to be held in Harrisburg.
According to the Harrisburg Telegraph, the convention was attended by
several hundred delegates at its height, and included men and women, both black
and white. They listened to speeches from Dr. F. Julius LeMoyne of
Washington County and William Burleigh, among others.
The first convention, held January 31 to February 2,
1837, was the first convention held in Pennsylvania by the American Anti-Slavery
Society, and it was the organizing convention for the Pennsylvania Anti-Slavery
Society. Delegates in 1837 included Jonathan Blanchard, Benjamin Lundy, as
well as Dr. LeMoyne and the dynamic speaker Charles C. Burleigh, brother to
William, who spoke in 1838. Proceedings were reported to William Lloyd
Garrison's abolitionist newspaper The Liberator by correspondent John
Greenleaf Whittier.
"In the stage for Baltimore"
The most efficient method of transportation from town to town and city to city,
at this time, was the stagecoach. Rail lines were limited and canal travel
was slow, but stage lines and routes, which transported people quickly and
cheaply, were plentiful in Harrisburg. One of the largest and most
successful stage line companies in Harrisburg was run by Alexander Calder, who
had a depot in Market Square.
"Into the boot"
The stagecoach boot was a leather storage area for passenger baggage and mail.
Most stages had two boots, one in the rear for baggage and one up front under
the driver's seat, often reserved for mail, which was one of the other important
revenue items for stagecoach lines.
"A
high fellow...runaway slave"
McKim's sarcastic description of the slaveholder's character, as observed by his
fellow passengers, is used to point out the moral hypocrisy of slavery: born
into a good family, the man is seen as morally upstanding because he does not
drink alcohol. His addiction to gambling is overlooked and the fact that
he owns slaves and is even now in pursuit of one, is not even an issue to them.
"Barren and devoid of interest"
McKim seems to have switched his mode of transportation from stagecoach to
train. In this dismissive remark about the Maryland countryside, which is
actually very beautiful, he seems to be transferring the hopelessness of slavery
to the physical characteristics of the land. He is also setting up the
story of the slave family being taken from their home, presumably to be sold
south.
The Liberator
William Lloyd Garrison began the anti-slavery newspaper, The Liberator,
on New Years Day, 1831. From the start it was one of the primary voices
for the radical anti-slavery movement, advocating immediate emancipation for all
slaves. Its strong rhetoric was roundly criticized in the north and
detested in the south.
"Mr. Adams took the floor"
John Quincy Adams, the sixth president of the United States (1825-1829),
returned to national politics after the presidency as a representative from
Massachusetts, serving from 1830 until his death in 1848. He was an
eloquent anti-slavery voice in the House of Representatives, fighting against
the "Gag Rule," which stifled anti-slavery petitions for eight years.
In the speech mentioned by McKim, Adams is railing
against Texas, which by now had declared its independence from Mexico and had
re-instituted slavery, outlawed by Mexico in 1829. Southerners were eager
to annex this very large territory into the union, making four or five new slave
states.
W. H. Williams'
Slave Pens
Slave dealer William H. Williams kept a prison, from which he housed and sold
slaves, at Seventh and Maryland Avenues in Washington, DC. He often
advertised for slaves in Washington newspapers. One typical ad stated in
part "Cash for 300 Negroes. The highest cash price will be given by the
subscribers for Negroes of both sexes, from the ages of 12 to 28."
"Who seemed quite white"
One of the telling remarks of the inherent racism found even in anti-slavery
circles is the preoccupation with slaves who appeared almost white. Even
dedicated activists such as McKim fell victim to this skin-color trap.
Harriett Beecher Stowe
made her key character in Uncle Tom's Cabin, Eliza Harris, light skinned,
evoking even more sympathy from readers.
To
Alabama
Many of the slaves held by Williams in his Seventh Street prison were already
sold, awaiting delivery to new owners in the deep south. Washington and
Baltimore slave dealers often acted as agents for buyers in Mississippi, Alabama
and Louisiana.
The fustian flag
McKim's description of a "fustian flag"--high sounding and boastful of a liberty
which extends only to white people--flying proudly over a national capitol only
blocks away from a filthy, overcrowded slave pen, is reminiscent of the outrage
expressed by his close friend and American Anti-Slavery Society founder William
Lloyd Garrison for another American symbol, the Constitution.
As early as 1832, in the columns of The Liberator,
Garrison had described the Constitution as "dripping ...with human blood."
In later years, Garrison would describe the Constitution as "a covenant with
death and an agreement with Hell." Finally, on July 4th, 1854, at an
anti-slavery picnic in Framingham, Massachusetts, he publicly burned a copy of
the U.S. Constitution.
J. Miller McKim's rejection of blind patriotism in
the name of unity found its ultimate embodiment in the actions of John Brown in
1859, whose body McKim helped bring home for a martyr's funeral two years before
the country tore itself apart in war. |
