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Letter from W. H. Gatewood.—My reply.—My efforts
as a THE first direct information that I received concerning any of my relations, after my last escape from slavery, was communicated in a letter from Wm. H. Gatewood, my former owner, which I here insert word for word, without any correction: BEDFORD, TRIMBLE COUNTY, KY. MR. H. BIBB. DEAR SIR:—After my respects to you and
yours &c., I received a small book which you sent to me that I peroseed
and found it was sent by H. Bibb I am a stranger in Detroit and know no man
there without it is Walton H. Bibb if this be the man please to write to me
and tell me all about that place and the people I will tell you the news here
as well as I can your mother is still living here and she is well the people
are generally well in this cuntry times are dull and produce low give my compliments
to King, Jack, and all my friends in that cuntry I read that book you sent
me and think it will do very well—George is sold, I do not know any thing about him I have nothing more at present, but remain yours &c W. H. GATEWOOD. February 9th, 1844. P. S. You will please to answer this letter. Never was I more surprised than at the reception of this letter, it came so unexpected to me. There had just been a State Convention held in Detroit, by the free people of color, the proceedings of which were published in pamphlet form. I forwarded several of them to distinguished slaveholders in Kentucky—one among others was Mr. Gatewood, and gave him to understand who sent it. After showing this letter to several of my anti-slavery friends, and asking their opinions about the propriety of my answering it, I was advised to do it, as Mr. Gatewood had no claim on me as a slave, for he had sold and got the money for me and my family. So I wrote him an answer, as near as I can recollect, in the following language: “DEAR SIR:—I am happy to inform
you that you are not mistaken in the man whom you sold as pro perty, and received
pay for as such. But I thank God that I am not property now, but am regarder
as a man like yourself, and although I live far north, I am enjoying a comfortable
living by my own industry. If you should ever chance to be traveling this
way, and will call on me, I will use you better than you did me while you
held me as a slave. Think not that I have any malice against you, for the
cruel treatment which you inflicted on me while I was in your power. As it was the custom of your country, to treat your fellow men as you did me and my little family, I can freely forgive you. I wish to be remembered in love to my aged mother, and friends; please tell her that if we should never meet again in this life, my prayer shall be to God that we may meet in Heaven, where parting shall be no more. “You wish to be remembered to King and Jack. I am pleased, sir, to inform you that they are both here, well, and doing well. They are both living in Canada West. They are now the owners of better farms than the men are who once owned them. You may perhaps think hard of us for running away from slavery, but as to myself, I have but one apology to make for it, which is this: I have only to regret that I did not start at an earlier period. I might have been free long before I was. But you had it in your power to have kept me there much longer than you did. I think it is very probable that I should have been a toiling slave on your plantation to-day, if you had treated me differently. To be compelled to stand by and see you whip and slash my wife without
mercy, when I could afford her no protection, not even by offering myself
to suffer the lash in her place, was more than I felt it to be the duty of
a slave husband to endure, while the way was open to Canada. My infant child
was also frequently flogged by Mrs. Gatewood, for crying, until its skin was
bruised literally purple. This kind of treatment was what drove me from home and family, to seek a better home for them. But I am willing to forget the past. I should be pleased to hear from you again, on the reception of this, and should also be very happy to correspond with you often, if it should be agreeable to yourself. I subscribe myself a friend to the oppressed, and Liberty forever. HENRY BIBB. WILLIAM GATEWOOD. The first time that I ever spoke before a public audience, was to give a narration of my own sufferings and adventures, connected with slavery. I commenced in the village of Adrian, State of Michigan, May, 1844. From that up to the present period, the principle part of my time has been faithfully devoted to the cause of freedom—nerved up and encouraged by the sympathy of anti-slavery friends on the one hand, and prompted by a sense of duty to my enslaved countrymen on the other, especially, when I remembered that slavery had robbed me of my freedom—deprived me of education—banished me from my native State, and robbed me of my family. I went from Michigan to the State of Ohio, where I traveled over some of the Southern counties of that State, in company with Samuel Brooks, and Amos Dresser, lecturing upon the subject of American Slavery. The prejudice of the people at that time was very strong against the abolitionists; so much so that they were frequently mobbed for discussing the subject. We appointed a series of meetings along on the Ohio River, in sight of the State of Virginia; and in several places we had Virginians over to hear us upon the subject. I recollect our having appointed a meeting in the city of Steubenville, which is situated on the bank of the river Ohio. There was but one known abolitionist living in that city, named George Ore. On the day of our meeting, when we arrived in this splendid city there was not a church, school house, nor hall, that we could get for love or money, to hold our meeting in. Finally, I believe that the whigs consented to let us have the use of their club room, to hold the meeting in; but before the hour had arrived for us to commence, they re-considered the matter, and informed us that we could not have the use of their house for an abolition meeting. We then got permission to hold forth in the public market house, and even
then so great was the hostility of the rabble, that they tried to bluff us
off, by threats and epithets. Our meeting was advertised to take place at
nine o'clock, A. M. The pro-slavery parties hired a colored man to take a
large auction bell, and go all over the city ringing it, and crying, “ho
ye! ho ye! Negro auction to take place in the market house, at nine o'clock,
by George Ore!” This cry was sounded all over the city, which called
out many who would not otherwise have been present. They came to see if it
was really the case. The object of the rabble in having the bell rung was,
to prevent us from attempting to speak. But at the appointed hour, Bro. Dresser opened the meeting with prayer and Samuel Brooks mounted the block and spoke for fifteen or twenty minutes, after which Mr. Dresser took the block and talked about one hour upon the wickedness of slaveholding. There were not yet many persons present. They were standing off I suppose to see if I was to be offered for sale. Many windows were hoisted and store doors open, and they were looking and listening to what was said. After Mr. Dresser was through, I was called to take the stand. Just at this moment there was no small stir in rushing forward; so much indeed, that I thought they were coming up to mob me. I should think that in less than fifteen minutes there were about one thousand persons standing around, listening. I saw many of them shedding tears while I related the sad story of my wrongs. At twelve o'clock we adjourned the meeting, to meet again at the same place at two P. M. Our afternoon meeting was well attended until nearly sunset, at which time, we saw some signs of a mob and adjourned. The mob followed us that night to the house of Mr. Ore, and they were yelling like tigers, until late that night, around the house, as if they wanted to tear it down. In the fall of 1844, S. B. Treadwell, of Jackson, and myself, spent two
or three months in lecturing through the State of Michigan, upon the abolition
of slavery, in a section of country where abolitionists were few and far between.
Our meetings were generally appointed in small log cabins, school houses,
among the farmers, which were some times crowded full; and where they had no horse teams, it was often the case that there would be four or five ox teams come, loaded down with men, women and children, to attend our meetings. But the people were generally poor, and in many places not able to give us a decent night's lodging. We most generally carried with us a few pounds of candles to light up the houses wherein we held our meetings after night; for in many places, they had neither candles nor candlesticks. After meeting was out, we have frequently gone from three to eight miles to get lodging, through the dark forest, where there was scarcely any road for a wagon to run on. I have traveled for miles over swamps, where the roads were covered with logs, without any dirt over them, which has sometimes shook and jostled the wagon to pieces, where we could find no shop or any place to mend it. We would have to tie it up with bark, or take the lines to tie it with, and lead the horse by the bridle. At other times we were in mud up to the hubs of the wheels. I recollect one evening, we lectured in a little village where there happened to be a Southerner present, who was a personal friend of Deacon Whitfield, who became much offended at what I said about his “Bro. Whitfield,” and complained about it after the meeting was out. He told the people not to believe a word that I said, that it was all a
humbug. They asked him how he knew? “Ah!” said he, “he has
slandered Bro. Whitfield. I am well acquainted with him, we both belonged
to one church; and Whitfield is one of the most respectable men in all that region of country.” They asked if he (Whitfield) was a slaveholder? The reply was “yes, but he treated his slaves well.” “Well,” said one, “that only proves that he has told us the truth; for all we wish to know, is that there is such a man as Whitfield, as represented by Bibb, and that he is a slave holder.” On the 2d Sept., 1847, I started from Toledo on board the canal packet
Erie, for Cincinnati, Ohio. But before going on board, I was waited on by
one of the boat's crew, who gave me a card of the boat, upon which was printed,
that no pains would be spared to render all passengers comfortable who might
favor them with their patronage to Cincinnati. This card I slipped into my
pocket, supposing it might be of some use to me. There were several drunken
loafers on board going through as passengers, one of whom used the most vulgar
language in the cabin, where there were ladies, and even vomited! But he was
called a white man, and a southerner, which made it all right. I of course
took my place in the cabin with the rest, and there was nothing said against
it that night. When the passengers went forward to settle their fare I paid
as much as any other man, which entitled me to the same privileges. The next
morning at the ringing of the breakfast bell, the proprietor of the packet
line, Mr. Samuel Doyle, being on board, invited the passengers to sit up to
breakfast. He also invited me personally to sit up to the table. But after we were all seated, and some had began to eat, he came and ordered me up from the table, and said I must wait until the rest were done. I left the table without making any reply, and walked out on the deck of the boat. After breakfast the passengers came up, and the cabin boy was sent after me to come to breakfast, but I refused. Shortly after, this man who had ordered me from the table, came up with the ladies. I stepped up and asked him if he was the captain of the boat. His answer was no, that he was one of the proprietors. I then informed him that I was going to leave his boat at the first stopping place, but before leaving I wanted to ask him a few questions: “Have I misbehaved to any one on board of this boat? Have I disobeyed any law of this boat? “No,” said he. Have I not paid you as much as any other passenger through to Cincinnati?” “Yes,” said he. “Then I am sure that I have been insulted and imposed upon, on board of this boat, without any just cause whatever.” “No one has misused you, for you ought to have known better than to have come to the table where there were white people.” “Sir, did you not ask me to come to the table?” “Yes, but I did not know that you was a colored man, when I asked you; and then it was better to insult one man than all the passengers on board of the boat.” Sir, I do not believe that there is a gentleman or lady on board of this boat who would have considered it an insult for me to have taken my breakfast, and you have imposed upon me by taking my money and promising to use me well, and then to insult me as you have.” “I don't want any of your jaw,” said he. “Sir, with all due respect to your elevated station, you have imposed upon me in a way which is unbecoming a gentleman. I have paid my money, and behaved myself as well as any other man, and I am determined that no man shall impose on me as you have, by deceiving me, without my letting the world know it. I would rather a man should rob me of my money at midnight, than to take it in that way.” I left this boat at the first stopping place, and took the next boat to Cincinnati. On the last boat I had no cause to complain of my treatment. When I arrived at Cincinnati, I published a statement of this affair in the Daily Herald. The next day Mr. Doyle called on the editor in a great passion.—“Here,” said he, “what does this mean.” “What, sir?” said the editor quietly. “Why, the stuff here, read it and see.” “Read it yourself,” answered the editor. “Well, I want to know if you sympathize with this nigger here.” “Who, Mr. Bibb? Why yes, I think he is a gentleman, and should be used as such.” “Why this is all wrong—all of it.” “Put your finger on the place, and I will right it.” “Well, he says that we took his money, when we paid part back. And if you take his part, why I'll have nothing to do with your paper.” So ended his wrath. In 1845, the anti-slavery friends of Michigan employed me to take the field as an anti-slavery Lecturer, in that State, during the Spring, Summer, and Fall, pledging themselves to restore to me my wife and child, if they were living, and could be reached by human agency, which may be seen by the following circular from the Signal of Liberty:
A. L. PORTER,
I have every reason to believe that they acted faithfully in the matter,
but without success. They wrote letters in every quarter where they would
be likely to gain any information respecting her. There were also two men
sent from Michigan in the summer of 1845, down South, to find her if possible,
and report—and whether they found out her condition, and refused to report, I am not able to say—but suffice it to say that they never have reported. They were respectable men and true friends of the cause, one of whom was a Methodist minister, and the other a cabinet maker, and both white men. The small spark of hope which had still lingered about my heart had almost become extinct. |