Out of the Briars: An Autobiography and Sketch of the Twenty-ninth Regiment Connecticut Volunteers

I was born in Newbern, Croven St., Craven County, N. C., November the first, 1837. I was born under the regime of slavery, a free child, my mother being a free woman. My childhood was the ordinary child life, of the colored children of the South. As a mere child, I looked out upon the world as beautiful and felt that all men and women were good and kind. I did not know of the distinctions, classes, conditions and grades of mankind. But as I grew older these distinctions were forced upon my tender heart and burned into my mind. I gradually came to realize my said condition, although free, and the sad condition of my race. My father was a slave, so that in my family, I learned what slavery was, I felt its curse in my bones and I longed for an opportunity and the power to play the part of a Moses in behalf of my people. I suppose that this was the wild dream of every child born during slavery. The awful condition of my people, the steel shackles of slavery, the slave block of the market place where husbands and wives, parents and children, were ruthlessly torn apart and scattered asunder, the whipping post, the slave quarters, the inhuman restrictions, such as denial of our own religious privileges, no ministers or churches of our race, no educational advantages to speak of, no social freedom among ourselves, these were some of the unspeakable conditions of my childhood life. But there was the bright and happy side of my life when a boy. With the thoughtlessness, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the boy, I entered into those plays and pleasures which make up the pastime of youth. I recall the many boys and girls, both white and colored, who were my mates in games and pranks. Like all boys, I had my little adventures, which were not always on the side of the right. One of the first practical lessons, I believe the first, that I ever had regarding the sterling worth of my mother I most vividly recall. Together with some other boys, we were guilty of stealing some peaches. It was not the proverbial watermelon this time. Fortunately we were caught by the proprietor of the orchard. It would be fortunate if all thieves were caught. I was taken in charge. I began to cry vigorously. I was asked what I wanted done with me. I begged to be taken home to my mother. This request was granted. Soon I was facing my mother. The gentleman told her of my offense. I expected, of course, that my mother would in some way intercede and waited with breathless expectation for some defense or some excuse or some release from my awful predicament. But my heart sank within me when she said to the man, “I have no thieves in my family.” So I was led away to face some fearful ordeal, I knew not what. When a boy’s mother turns against him for his evil-doings, there is no hope for him. But my tears, cries and youth touched the man’s heart and after leading me away from home towards the jail for a distance, he released me with some good advice. I learned in that wrong-doing that I need never expect my mother to uphold me in the slightest departure from the right path. It was a wonderful lesson and I doubt not, had a fine effect on my entire life.

I recall another experience which was much more severe in a physical way. I was bound out to a white man, Jacob G. Gooding, and placed under his foreman, Henry E. Bryan. I was ordered to carry a bench some distance. Then the devil said to me, “You are not a horse, why should you be doing the work of a horse?” I said to myself, this is true. So I decided that I would not do the work of a horse. Well, he soon came to see what the trouble was and found me and the bench together. He wanted to know why I had not obeyed his orders, I told him that I was no horse, that he could get a horse and cart and have that bench taken where he wanted it. We were soon in each other’s embrace engaged in a street fight. We were arrested and tried and sentenced to a whipping. Well, I was in for punishment, and being a free boy, the slave overseer nor his master could punish me. I was reported to my employer. The punishment decided on was forty lashes save one. So I was stripped and my employer plied the lash thirty-nine times. My back was lacerated and very painful and for three weeks I was unable to do any work. I suppose that I could have gone to work sooner, but I was determined that my punishment should cost my employer something as well as myself. It cost me thirty-nine lashes and the suffering and it cost him the loss of three weeks of my labor. This is but an illustration of the manner in which the colored people, even the free-born, were generally treated for their offenses. They were treated frequently worse than the brutes. For they knew that the Negro had enough intelligence to understand what his punishment meant and that the purpose of it was to reduce and keep him in perpetual servitude. This, of course, had to be done by mere brute force. But as the result of slavery there were many young men of the race who learned well some trade. They were apprenticed, as in my case, to some good workman, for at least four years or more. At the end of that time they were efficient, practical workmen who, if free, could command good wages. So that hundreds of fine artisans came of slavery who were able to begin at once the laying of the foundation of the history of a free people. They took up their several trades, and for both races, turned their hands to every advantage. It should always be remembered that the magnificent civilization of the South as to its material wealth and prosperity, was built up by the slaves of the South. The cities, the country homes, the plantations and all their improvements, the planting, cultivating, and harvesting of the crops, all was done by Negro labor. So that there should be set over to the account of the Negro race, not only their own progress since the Civil War, but also the progress of the south for at least a century before the war. There is another incident in my life at this time which may be interesting and also illustrate something of the workings of that noted system of bringing slaves to the North. That system of exporting slaves is known in history as “The Underground Railroad.” I was, of course, deeply interested in this means of travel in those days and tried to get all the passengers for this railroad that I could find. My boss-foreman, H. E. Bryan, had disobeyed his master and was threatened to be whipped. I assisted him to a place of safety. In all the slaveholders’ dwellings, slaves were employed in the house. They practically had full charge of affairs, and especially in the dining room, kitchen, etc. This part of the house was very seldom inspected, excepting to see that things were kept clean and orderly. Well, I dressed this slave up in a woman’s garb and conducted him through the streets to the house of one, Mr.Primrose, a man who stood high in the community, and held the confidence of all slaveholders as one of them and one of their defenders and supporters, a matter of course. I was successful in getting my charge safely into the kitchen. Then with the assistance of the slaves in charge of the kitchen, we placed him in the attic at the rear of the house, above the kitchen. Here we safely secreted him and here he was fed on the best of the land for a long while. There was a most diligent search made for the slave in the town and throughout the country. A reward was offered and he was advertised, but all to no avail. He could not be found high or low. At last things quieted down and we found opportunity to put him on this mystic train and send him to a clime where he enjoyed his freedom. This was indeed a daring attempt of mine, but it was in me to do it with a great deal of delight. And from that day to this, I have been proud of this one feat of my boyhood life which was on the side of right and humanity.