Sketches in the History of the Underground Railroad/Chapter XI
CHAPTER XI.
When Owen Lovejoy made his great speech on the bill to repeal the “black laws” of the State of Illinois, he denounced the fugitive slave law as not only wicked and unjust, unnatural and dangerous to the stability of a free government, but also mean and degrading, an outrage on every principle of humanity and religion. He endorsed the U. G. R. R. in all its principles, actions and results, and closed his speech by saying, “In so doing I accept the consequences of wicked legislation, and let it be known that Owen Lovejoy, of Princeton, Bureau Co., Illinois, will hold himself ready at all times to give advice, food, shelter and aid in every possible way, in the pursuit of freedom, to any poor, panting fugitive from the horrors of American slavery, so help me Almighty God.”
It had been announced that Lovejoy was to speak on the bill, and the State House at Springfield was crowded with ladies and gentlemen of all parties. When going home, a leading. Democrat, holding one of the highest offices in the State, was leading by the hand his little daughter, his particular favorite, whom he had taken with him to hear Mr. Lovejoy’s speech. Having walked some distance without speaking, she said, “Is that man an abolitionist?” “Yes,” said he. “Well, papa, are you an abolitionist too?” “Yes,” he replied, “but I was such a d——d (feeling the pressure of the soft little hand, he felt admonished to skip the hard words, and hesitating a little, said), “I was such a fool that I didn’t know it!” The above incident was related to me by a man who was a member of the Legislature, was present and heard the speech, and was acquainted with all the parties, and it is mentioned here to show that men were sometimes Democrats who had none of the copperhead virus in them. Of this class was one of the principal actors in the sketch which follows:
I was stopping over night in the village of Attica, Wyoming Co., N. Y., and while transacting business in the town I chanced to meet Col. Charles 0. Shepard, a very popular member of the State Senate, an active member of the liberty party, and one of the original stockholders in this institution. Mr. Shepard invited me to take breakfast with him, saying that he had something he would like to show me. X accepted the invitation, and after breakfast he showed me an U. G. R. R. car, in which two fugitives had come all the way from Washington, D. C. It was a box, made of light boards, to fit into a gardener’s market wagon; the forepart formed a seat, and the back part was high, so that a person could sit on the bottom, extending the feet forward under the driver’s seat. In this box a woman and her daughter had, a few days before, arrived at his house from Washington without change of horses or driver.
Some 22 years since, several farmers in Onondaga Co., having some money to invest, went to the District of Columbia and to counties in Virginia near Washington, and bought old, worn out farms at from $5 to $15 per acre, and by the use of fertilizers and the application of their northern system of farming, they brought them into profitable cultivation. Three or four of these men were my school-mates when we were boys. They bought no slaves, but hired them of their masters to aid in cultivating the land, etc. A man by the name of Lines lived just over the line in Virginia, who owned more slaves than he could employ, therefore he hired them out, and the wages he received for their labor constituted his income, selling one occasionally to supply any deficiency. One of the women whom he thus robbed of the wages she earned, was a remarkably efficient house servant, by the name of Statie. Her master allowed her to hire herself out on condition that she paid him $10 per month, and also furnished clothing for her little daughter, Lila, at that time about seven years of age. The mother and daughter were both nearly white. Statie hired herself for a year to one of the above named northern farmers, whose principal business was market gardening, and while she lived in the family as house servant, she was allowed the privilege of keeping her little girl with her for several weeks at a time. The little girl was of a sunny temper, very pretty, and both active and intelligent for one of her age, and the family of Mr. Barbour, with whom they lived, became attached to both the child and her mother.
At the end of the year a hotel keeper in Washington, having heard of the superior qualification of Statie as a cook, offered her more wages, and as she was trying to lay by money to buy the freedom of her child, she went to live in Washington, and her child stayed on the plantation, some 10 miles off in Virginia. Statie was allowed to go home once in three months to see her child and pay her wages to her master. On one of these occasions she learned that a slave trader had been trying to buy Lila, and her master had gone so far as to set a time when he would answer as to terms of sale. Statie, though in great distress, had sufficient presence of mind to conceal her feelings, and talked cheerfully to L. when she paid him her quarter’s wages, about the time when she hoped to be able to buy Lila’s freedom, a subject that she seldom failed to allude to when paying money to her master. As it was two or three months before the trader would be there, and possibly realizing something of the cruelty he proposed inflicting on both mother and daughter, and softened by the receipt of her quarter’s wages and her cheerful talk, he consented to let Lila go with her mother for a few weeks. Remembering the kindness of Mr. Barbour’s family, she walked many miles out of her way in returning to Washington to lay her troubles before them. Barbour and his wife were shocked at the idea of their little favorite being sold away from her mother, and a plan was soon arranged, whereby Mr. Barbour met Statie late in the evening of the following Wednesday on a country road a mile or two outside of the city. Statie and her child were fixed comfortably in the aforesaid box, which had been supplied with straw, and as many conveniences as could be arranged. Barbour managed to get into Pennsylvania as soon as possible, but fearing pursuers, he kept them out of sight until they arrived in Wyoming Co., N. Y.
When out of sight of settlements, they sometimes went out and picked berries, and when safe to do so they walked about in the night. He stopped at taverns or farm houses, leaving the wagon in the barn. The wagon was what is called in that country a “Jersey wagon,” having six posts and covered with oil cloth. When inquired of as to the contents of the box he said he had been peddling clocks, and was going home to York State, and as he drove a splendid team his word was taken without examination.
Knowing Col. S., not personally, but by reputation, as a safe agent of the U. G. R. R., he thought it best to take the fugitives to him; therefore he came through the mountain district of Pa., striking the State line near Wellsville, in Alleghany Co., went direct to Warsaw, and put up at a hotel, where he inquired if the landlord knew such a man as Col. C. O. Shepard. “Yes,” said the landlord, “and he is here attending court.”
Statie and Lila were then brought into the house and were warmly greeted by the crowd of people, it being the first time they had been seen, except by Mr. Barbour, since they left Washington. Col. S. took charge of them and asked the privilege of keeping the box in which they came as a relic, and Mr. Barbour went to his old home in Onondaga Co.
No suspicion ever rested on Mr. Barbour in Virginia as to his agency in the escape of the fugitives. He had talked of going north about that time, and then his political opinions were a sufficient guaranty. What lie^ had seen of slavery had little effect upon his feelings and opinions, and he was regarded as pro-slavery as were all Democrats everywhere, but he took an interest in the fate of this poor child and her almost distracted mother, and determined to save them at all hazards. A few days’ active service on the U. G. R. R. proved too much for his prejudices, and his vote never went in that direction again.
A few days after Col. S. came home, bringing the fugitives with him from Warsaw, two strangers rode up in front of the Post Office in the village of Attica, and inquired if the Postmaster was within, judging, of course, that the Postmaster must be sound on the slave question. There were disappointed in not finding that official ready to aid them in reclaiming a fugitive.
They were in pursuit of Statie and her child. An account of their arrival in Wyoming Co. had got into the local papers, by which means Lines had learned where they might probably be found, and employed these men to capture them. The Postmaster took them into his office and told them plainly that the slaves were within half a mile of the village, "but," said he, "you had better not try to take them. I would be glad to help you if I dared to, but every man, woman and child in the place would help them, and you can’t raise men enough in this county to take them away from here. I see by the commotion in the streets that you are suspected already, and I cannot answer for your safety if you should ever attempt to prosecute this business. Such a thing has never been attempted here, and I tell you it will go hard with the man that tries it. Now," said he, "I have nothing more to say on the subject, except that I should think fifteen or twenty minutes is as long a time as it will be safe for you to be seen in this town. A glance at the crowd already gathered in the street was sufficient to clinch the arguments of the Postmaster, so the slave hunters mounted their horses and rode silently out of town, the people making no demonstration until they were on the bridge, when a shout, a cheer, three times three, seemed to put new life into their horses, and they were soon out of sight. In the office they threatened to return with force sufficient to execute their purpose, but they never came, though Col. S. thought best to send the fugitives into another part of the county, and their retreat was for a long time kept secret.
A gentleman who lives in Attica told me a few days ago that Lila still lives in Wyoming Co., a respectable, intelligent woman, but her mother died within two years after she came there.