CHAPTER XIII.

NORTH CAROLINA.

HON. CHARLES PINCKNEY'S TESTIMONY - CAPTAIN WILLIAMSON - SALE OF A REVOLUTIONARY SOLDER - SLAVES FREED BY THE LEGISLATURE - VETERAN OF FORT MOULTRIE - JEHU JONES - MANUEL PEREIRA - JOHN PAUL - COMPLEXIONAL BARRIERS - REVOLT OF 1738 - THE BLACK SAXONS - DENMARK VEAZIE'S INSURRECTION IN 1822 - WILLIAM G. NELL

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THE celebrated Charles Pinckney, of South Carolina, in his speech on the Missouri question, and in defence of the slave representation of the South, made the following admissions: -

     "At the commencement of our Revolutionary struggle with Great Britain, all the States had this class of people.  The New England States had numbers of them; the Northern and Middle States had still more, although less than the Southern.  They all entered into the great contest with similar views.  Like brethren, they contended for the benefit of the whole, leaving to each the right to pursue its happiness in its own way.  They thus nobly toiled and bled together, really like brethren.  And it is a remarkable fact, that, notwithstanding, in the course of the Revolution, the Southern States were continually overrun by the British, and every negro in them had an opportunity of running

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away, yet few did.  They then were, as they still are, as valuable a part of our population to the Union as any other equal number of inhabitants.  They were in numerous instances the pioneers, and in all, the laborers of your armies.  To their hands were owing the erection of the greatest part of the fortifications raised for the protection of our country.  Fort Moultrie gave, at an early period of the inexperience and untried valor of our citizens, immortality to American arms.  And in the Northern States, numerous bodies of them were enrolled, and fought, side-by-side with the whites, the battles of the Revolution.

     The Charleston Standard and Mercury, of July, 1854 furnishes these facts : —
     "CAPTAIN WILLIAMSON, a free man of color, died in this city, on Friday, the 7th instant, at the extraordinary age of one hundred and thirteen years. He was a native of Saint Paul's Parish, and came out of the estate of Mr. William Williamson, a successful merchant of Charleston.  Out of this estate, also, came 'Good Old Jacob,' who died a few months since, at the age of one hundred and two years, and whose death was noticed in our papers. When Jacob's obituary notice was read to the Captain, ' Why,' said the old man, 'I used to carry him about in my arms when he was a child.'
     "Mr. Williamson, before the Revolution, had removed to his country seat near Wallis Bridge, about fifteen miles from Charleston.  There CAPTAIN WILLIAMSON had charge of his master's large garden of fifty acres, with its fish-pond,

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shrubbery, and splendid collection of native and exotic plants.  The Captain was always a faithful servant, devoted to the service of his master, and afterwards to his mistress, who went to England, and there died.  She left him free, together with his children.  Of these he had fourteen, of whom only one survives.  For many years, he superintend ed the farms and gardens of several persons on Charleston Neck.  He was remarkably intelligent and faithful, and was universally respected by his employers and their neighbors.  During the war of the Revolution, he assisted in throwing up the lines for the defence of the city, and was an ardent lover of his country.  In further proof of which, we refer to Dr. Johnson's reminiscences of the Revolution, where the Captain received honorable notice.  There, amongst other instances of his fidelity, it is recorded that, during the troublesome times following the Revolution, he brought his mistress a large sum of money due to her for rent, from the Sister's ferry, on the Savannah.  For this, he was rewarded by her with a set of silver waistcoat buttons, which he kept and exhibited with 'commendable pride' to his visitors of the present generation.  By his industry, he accumulated a sufficiency for the comfortable support of himself and his wife, who survives him, and is upwards of eighty years of age.  For upwards of fifty years, he has been a humble and consistent member of the Circular Church.  He was charitable and kind to the poor, and willing to assist in every benevolent object.  He was highly esteemed, by the whites, and respected by his own color, by

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members of both of whom he was followed to his last resting place, on Saturday evening."
     The following interesting account of the trial and execution of a colored man, (said to have been one of the defenders of Fort Moultrie,) which took place at Charleston in the year 1817, must excite the feelings of every benevolent heart against the ruthless prejudices engendered by the foul and leporous stain of slavery.  A man belonging to a merchant ship having died, apparently in consequence of poison being mixed with the dinner served up to the ship's company, the cook and cabin boy were suspected; because they were, on account of their occupations, the only persons on board who did not partake of the mess, — the effects of which appeared the moment it was tasted.
     As the offence was committed on the high seas, the cook, though a negro, became entitled to a jury, and, with the cabin boy, was put upon his trial.  The boy, who was a fine-looking lad, was readily acquitted.  The man was then tried.  He was of low stature, ill-shapen, and with a strongly marked and repulsive countenance.  The evidence against him was — first, that he was cook, and, therefore, who else could have poisoned the mess?  It was, however, overlooked, that two of the crew had absconded since the ship came into port.  Secondly, he had been heard to utter expressions of ill-humor before he went on board.  That part of the testimony was, indeed, suppressed, which went to explain these expressions.  The real proof, no doubt, was written in the color of his skin, and in the harsh and rugged lines of his face.  He was found guilty.

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     Mr. Crafts, Jr., a member of the Charleston bar, and an honor to his profession, who, from motives of humanity, had undertaken his defence, did not think that a man ought to die on account of the color of his skin — although prejudice, with jaundiced eyes, might see nothing but crime and infamy stamped upon it; and moved for a new trial, on the ground of partial and insufficient evidence.  But the Judge, who had urged his condemnation with a vindictive countenance, entrenched himself in forms, and found that the law gave him no power on the side of mercy.  Mr. C. then forwarded a representation of the case to the President of the United States, through one of the Senators of the State; but the Senator treated with levity the idea of interesting himself in behalf of the life of a negro.  He was, therefore, left to his dungeon and the executioner.
     Thus situated, he did not, however, forsake himself; and it was now, when prejudice, and a rigor bordering on persecution, had spent their last arrow on him, that he modestly, but firmly, assumed his proper character, — to vindicate not only his own innocence, but the moral equality of his race, and those mental energies, which the white man's pride would deny to the blackness of his skin.  Maintaining an undeviating tranquillity, he conversed with ease and cheerfulness, whenever his benevolent counsel, who continued his kind attentions to the last, visited his cell."  I was present (says Lieutenant Hall, from whose travels this account is extracted,) on one of these occasions, and observed his tone and manner; he was neither sullen nor desperate, but quiet

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and resigned, — suggesting whatever occurred to him on the circumstances of his own case, with as much calmness as if he had been uninterested in the event.  Yet, as if he deemed it a duty to omit none of the means placed within his reach for vindicating his innocence, he paid the most profound attention to the exhortations of a Methodist preacher, who, for conscience's sake, visited those who were in prison; and, having his spirit strengthened with religion, on the morning of his execution, before he was led out, he requested permission to address a few words of advice to the companions of his captivity.  "I have observed much in them," he added," which requires to be amended, and the advice of a man in my situation may be respected."  A circle was accordingly formed in his cell, in which he placed himself, and addressed them at some length, with a sober and collected earnestness of manner, on the profligacy which he had noticed in their behavior while they had been fellow prisoners — recommending to them the rules of conduct prescribed in that religion in which he now found his support and consolation.
     If we regard the quality and condition of the actors only, there is, assuredly, an astonishing difference between this scene, and the parting of Socrates with his friends and disciples. Should we, however, put away from our thoughts such differences as are merely accidental, and seize that point of coincidence which is most interesting and important, namely — the triumph of mental energy over death and unmerited disgrace — the negro will not appear wholly

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unworthy of a comparison with the sage of Athens.  The latter occupied an exalted station in the public eye.  Although persecuted, even unto death and ignominy, by a band of triumphant and ruthless despots, he was surrounded in his last moments by his faithful friends and disciples, to whose talents and affection he might safely trust the vindication of his fame, and the unsullied purity of his memory.  He felt that the hour of his glory must come, and that it would not pass away.  The negro had none of these aids; he was a man friendless and despised; the sympathies of soicety were locked up against him; he was to suffer for an odious crime by an ignominious death; the consciousness of his innocence was confined to his own bosom, there| probably, to sleep for ever; to the rest of mankind he was a wretched criminal — an object, perhaps, of contempt and detestation, even to the guilty companions of his prison-house.  He had no philosophy with which to reason down the natural misgivings which may be supposed to precede a violent and ignominious dissolution of life; he could make no appeal to posterity to reverse an unjust judgment. To have borne all this patiently would have been much; he bore it as a hero and a Christian.
     Having ended his discourse, he was conducted to the scaffold, where, having calmly viewed the crowd collected to witness his fate, he requested leave to address them.  Obtaining permission, he stepped firmly to the edge of the scaffold, and, having commanded silence by his gestures, — "You are come," said he, "to be spectators of my suffer

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ings; you are mistaken; there is not a person in this crowd but suffers more than I do.  I am cheerful and contented; for I am innocent.'' '  He then observed, that he truly forgave all those who had taken any part in his condemnation, and believed that they acted conscientiously, from the evidence before them, and disclaimed all idea of imputing guilt to any one.  He then turned to his counsel, who, with feelings which honored humanity, had attended him to the scaffold.  "To you, Sir," said he," lam, indeed, most grateful.  Had you been my son, you could not have acted by me more kindly; "and observing his tears, he continued, — "This, Sir, distresses me beyond any thing I have felt yet.  I entreat that you will feel no distress on my account.  I am happy."  Then, praying Heaven to reward his benevolence, he took leave of him, and signified his readiness to die; but requested that he might be excused from having his eyes bandaged, wishing, with an excusable pride, to give this last proof of the unshaken firmness with which innocence can meet death.  He, however, submitted, on this point, to the representations of the Sheriff, and expired without the quivering of a muscle.*
     Rev. Theodore Parker gives the following anecdote of a Massachusetts sea-captain.  He commanded a small brig, which plied between Carolina and the Gulf States.  "One day, at Charleston," said he, "a man came and brought to me an old negro slave.  He was very old, and had fought in the Revolution, and been very distinguished
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     * American Anecdotes.

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for bravery and other soldierly qualities.  If he had not been a negro, he would have become a Captain, at least, perhaps a Colonel.  But, in his old age, his master found no use for him, and said that he could not afford to keep him.  He asked me to take the Revolutionary soldier, and carry him South and sell him.  I carried him," said the man," to Mobile, and tried to get as good and kind a master for him as I could, for I didn't like to sell a man that had fought for his country.  I sold the old Revolutionary soldier for a hundred dollars to a citizen of Mobile, who raised poultry, and he set him to attend a hen-coop."  I suppose the South Carolina master drew the pension till the soldier died.  "Why did you do such a thing?" said my friend, who was an Anti-Slavery man.  "If I didn't do it," he replied, "I never could get a bale of cotton, nor a box of sugar, nor any thing, to carry from or to any Southern port."
     JEHU JONES was proprietor of a celebrated hotel in the city of Charleston, situated on Broad street, next to the aristocratic St. Michael's church, one of the most public places in the city.  He was a fine, portly looking man, active, enterprising, intelligent, honest to the letter, — one whose integrity and responsibility were never doubted.  He lived in every way like a white man.  His house was unquestionably the best in the city, and had a wide-spread reputation.  Few persons of note ever visited Charleston without putting up at Jones's, where they found not only the comforts of a private house, but a table spread with every luxury the country afforded.

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     Mr. Jones maintained the popularity of his house many years, rearing a beautiful, intelligent and interesting family, and accumulating forty thousand dollars or more.  The most interesting portion of his family were three daughters, the eldest of whom married a gentleman who subsequently removed to New York, where he engaged in a respectable and lucrative business.
     Mr. Jones often exerted his influence and contributed his means to redeem persons from slavery.  For several years, he carried oti an extensive fashionable tailoring establishment, and among his customers were the wealthiest citizens of Charleston.  He had a large number of apprentices, among whom was my father, (William G. Nell,) who served seven years and six months.
     Jehu, a son of Mr. Jones, visited the North, and was not allowed to return home.  The details of this case are similar" to hundreds of others, and prove that the right of locomotion is denied in the South to free, colored persons from the North, even though they are native-born Southerners.  The following extract from South Carolina State Documents is conclusive evidence on this point : —
     "Our first and great object is, to prevent the interchange of sentiment between our domestic negroes, whether bond or free, and negroes who reside abroad, or who have left our State.  To do this, it becomes imperative to establish a law prohibiting free negroes from coming into the State, and those in the State from going, under penalty of imprisonment andfine if they return."

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     This principle strikes down the rights of citizens of other States.  Though free-born myself, and unable to trace my genealogy back to slavery, yet I am prohibited from visiting my father's relatives in a Southern city, except at the risk of pains and penalties.  Why should not my rights as a citizen of the Old Bay State be as sacred under the Palmetto Banner as those of any other man, white though he be?
     Colored seamen from the free States, and also from the British dominions and elsewhere, continue to be removed from vessels and imprisoned, though for many years efforts have been put forth by the several powers to abolish the restriction.
     Complexional distinctions, growing out of the institution of slavery, exist, to a great and unhappy extent, even among colored people; and as the Jews and Samaritans of Scripture had no dealings one with another, so in Charleston, as in many other Southern cities, social intercourse and inter-marriages occur only as exceptions among the two prominent shades of complexion.  In 1810, a Society was in operation in the city of Charleston, of which my father was a member, composed, as set forth in its Constitution, of "free brown men only."  Its objects were benevolent; its name, the Humane and Friendly Society; but yet, at the dictation of the spirit of pro-slavery, it was thoroughly prescriptive in its character.  This tree of caste, though rooted in the South, shades many cities of the North with its baneful branches; but, through the dissemination of more liberal principles, its influence daily diminishes.

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THE BLACK SAXONS.*

     Mr. Duncan, a rich slaveholder in South Carolina, was one evening indulging in a reverie after reading the History of the Norman Conquest, when a dark mulatto opened the door, and, making a servile reverence, said, in wheedling tones," Would rnassa be so good as to giv' a pass to go to Methodist meeting?  "Being an indulgent master, he granted the permission to him and several others, only bidding them not to stay out all night.  Some time after, when no response was heard to his repeated bell-ringing, it occurred to him that he had given every one of his slaves a pass to go to the Methodist meeting.  This was instantly followed by the remembrance, that the same thing had occurred a few days before.  Having purchased a complete suit of negro clothes, and a black mask well-fitted to his face, he awaited the next request for a pass to a Methodist meeting, when, assuming the disguise, he hurried after the party.  And here, in this lone sanctuary of Nature's primeval majesty, were assembled many hundreds of swart figures, some seated in thoughtful attitudes, others scattered in moving groups, eagerly talking together.  He observed that each one, as he entered, prostrated himself till his forehead touched the ground, and rising, placed his finger on his mouth.  Imitating this signal, he passed in with the throng, and seated himself behind the glare of the torches.  For
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     * From the writings of LYDIA MAKIA CHILD.

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some time, he could make out no connected meaning amid the confused buzz of voices, and half-suppressed snatches of songs.  But, at last, a tall man mounted the stump of a decayed tree, nearly in the centre of the area, and requested silence.
     "When we had our last meeting," said he, "I suppose most all of you know, that we all concluded it was best for to join the British, if so be we could get a good chance.  But we didn't all agree about our masters.  Some thought we should never be able to keep our freedom, without we killed our masters in the first place; others didn't like the thoughts of that; so we agreed to have another meeting to talk about it.  And now, boys, if the British land here in Caroliny, what shall we do with our masters?"
     He stepped down, and a tall, sinewy mulatto stepped into his place, exclaiming, with fierce gestures, "Ravish wives and daughters before their eyes, as they have done to us.  Hunt them with hounds, as they have hunted us.  Shoot them down with rifles, as they have shot us.  Throw their carcasses to the crows, they have fattened on our bones; and then let the Devil take them where they never rake up fire o' nights.  Who talks of mercy to our masters?"
     "I do," said an aged black man, who rose up before the fiery youth, tottering as he leaned both hands on an oaken staff.  "I do, — because the blessed Jesus always talked of mercy.  I know we have been fed like hogs, and shot at like wild beasts.  Myself found the body of my likeliest boy under the tree where buckra rifles reached him.  But, thanks to

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the blessed Jesus, I feel it in my poor old heart to forgive them.  I have been a member of a Methodist church these thirty years; and I 've heard many preachers, white and black; and they all tell me Jesus said, Do good to them that do evil to you, and pray for them that spite you.  Now, I say, let us love our enemies; let us pray for them; and when our masters flog us, and sell our pickaninnies, let us break out singing —

     "That 's the way to glorify the Lord."
     Scarcely had the cracked voice ceased the tremulous chant in which these words were uttered, when a loud altercation commenced; some crying out vehemently for the blood of the white men, others maintaining that the old man's doctrine was right.  The aged black remained leaning on his staff, and mildly replied to every outburst of fury, "But Jesus said, do good for evil."  Loud rose the din of excited voices, and the disguised slaveholder shrank deeper into the shadow.

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     In the midst of the confusion, an athletic, gracefully-proportioned young man sprang upon the stump, and, throw ing off his coarse cotton garment, slowly turned round and round before the assembled multitude.  Immediately, all was hushed; for the light of a dozen torches, eagerly held up by fierce, revengeful comrades, showed his back and shoulders deeply gashed by the whip, and still oozing with blood.  In the midst of that deep silence, he stopped abruptly, and with stern brevity exclaimed, "Boys! shall we not murder our masters?"
     "Would you murder all?" inquired a timid voice at his right hand.  "They don't all cruellize their slaves."
     "There 's Mr. Campbell," pleaded another;" he never had one of his boys flogged in his life.  You wouldn't murder him, would you?"
     "O, no, no, no," shouted many voices;" we wouldn't murder Mr. Campbell.  He 's always good to colored folks."
     "And I wouldn't murder my master," said one of Mr. Duncan's slaves," and I 'd fight any body that set out to murder him.  I an't a going to work for him for nothing any longer, if I can help it; but he shan't be murdered, for he's a good master."
     "Call him a good master, if ye like!" said the bleeding youth, with a bitter sneer in his look and tone."  I curse the word.  The white men tell us God made them our masters; I say, it was the Devil.  When they don't cut up the backs that bear their burdens, when they throw us

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enough of the grain we have raised to keep us strong for another harvest, when they forbear to shoot the limbs that toil to make them rich, they are fools who call them good masters.  Why should they sleep on soft beds, under silken curtains, while we, whose labor bought it all, lie on the floor at the threshhold, or miserably coiled up in the dirt of our own icabins?  Why should I clothe my master in broadcloth and fine linen, when he knows, and I know, that he is my own brother? and I, meanwhile, have only this coarse rag to cover my aching shoulders?"  He kicked the garment scornfully, and added, "Down on your knees, if ye like, and thank them that ye are not flogged and shot.  Of me they'll learn another lesson!"
     Mr. Duncan recognised in the speaker the reputed son of one of his friends, lately deceased; one of that numerous class which Southern vice is thoughtlessly raising up, to be its future scourge and terror.
     The high, bold forehead, and flashing eye, indicated an intellect too active and daring for servitude; while his fluent speech and appropriate language betrayed the fact that his highly educated parent, from some remains of instinctive feeling, had kept him near his own person during his life time, and thus formed his conversation on another model than the rude jargon of slaves.
     His poor, ignorant listeners stood spell-bound by the magic of superior mind, and at first it seemed as if he might carry the whole meeting in favor of his views.  But the aged man, leaning on his oaken staff, still mildly spoke

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of the meek and blessed Jesus, and the docility of African temperament responded to his gentle words.
     After various scenes of fiery indignation, gentle expostulation, and boisterous mirth, it was finally decided, by a considerable majority, that in case the British landed, they would take their freedom without murdering their masters; not a few, however, went away in wrathful mood, muttering curses deep.
     With thankfulness to Heaven, Mr. Duncan again found himself in the open field, alone with the stars.  Their glorious beauty seemed to him, that night, clothed in new and awful power.  Groups of shrubbery took to themselves startling forms; and the sound of the wind among the trees was like the unsheathing of swords.  Again he recurred to Saxon history, and remembered how he had thought that troubled must be the sleep of those who rule a conquered people.
     "And these Robin Hoods and Wat Tylers were my Saxon ancestors," thought he.  "Who shall so balance effects and causes, as to decide what portion of my present freedom sprung from their seemingly defeated efforts?  Was the place I saw tonight, in such wild and fearful beauty, like the haunts of the Saxon Robin Hoods?  Was not the spirit that gleamed forth there as brave as theirs?  And who shall calculate what even such hopeless endeavors may
do for the future freedom of their race?"
     These cogitations did not, so far as I ever heard, lead to the emancipation of his bondmen; but they did prevent his

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revealing a secret, which would have brought hundreds to an immediate and violent death.  After a painful conflict between contending feelings and duties, he contented himself with advising the magistrates to forbid all meetings whatsoever among colored people, until the war was ended.
     He visited Boston several years after, and told the story to a gentleman, who often repeated it in the circle of his friends.  In brief outline it reached my ears.  I have adopted fictitious names, because I have forgotten the real ones.

PROJECTED INSURRECTION IN CHARLESTON.

     During the Revolutionary War, Captain Veazie, of Charleston, was engaged in supplying the French in St. Domingo with slaves from St. Thomas.  In the year 1781, he purchased DENARK, a boy of about fourteen years of age, and afterwards brought him to Charleston, where he proved, for twenty years, a faithful slave.  In 1800, DENARK drew a prize of $1500 in the lottery, and purchased his freedom from his master for $500.  From that period until the time of his arrest, he worked as a carpenter, and was distinguished for his great strength and activity, and was always looked up to by those of his own color with awe and rspect.
     In 1822, DENMARK VEAZIE formed a plan for the liberation of his fellow-men from bondage.  In the whole history of human efforts to overthrow slavery, a more complicated and tremendous plan was never formed.  A part of the

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plan matured was, that on Sunday night, the 16th of June, a force would cross from James' Island and land on South Bay, and march up and seize the Arsenal and guard-house; another body, at the same time, would seize the Arsenal on the Neck; and a third would rendezvous in the vicinity of the mills of Denmark's master.  They would then sweep the town with fire and sword, not permitting a- single white soul to escape.
     The sum of this intelligence was laid before the Governor, who, convening the officers of the militia, took such measures as were deemed the best adapted to the approaching exigency of Sunday night.  On the 16th, at 10 o'clock at night, the military companies, which were placed under the command of Col. R. Y. Hayne, were ordered to rendezvous for guard.
     The conspirators, finding the whole town encompassed, at 10 o'clock, by the most vigilant patrols, did not dare to show themselves, whatever might have been their plans.  In the progress of the subsequent investigation, it was distinctly in proof, that but for these military demonstrations, the effort would unquestionably have been made; that a meeting took place on Sunday afternoon, the 16th, at 4 o'clock, of several of the ringleaders, at Denmark Veazie's, for the purpose of making their preliminary arrangements, and that early in the morning of Sunday, Denmark despatched a courier to order down some country negroes from Goose Creek, which courier had endeavored in vain to get out of town.

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The conspirators, it was ascertained, had held meetings for four years, without being betrayed.  The leaders were careful to instruct their followers not to mention their plans to "those waiting men who received presents of old coats, &c, from their masters," as such slaves would be likely to betray them.
     DENMARK VEAZIE was betrayed by the treachery of his own people, and died a martyr to freedom.  The slave who gave information of the projected insurrection was purchased by the Legislature, who held out to other slaves the strongest possible motives to do like wise in similar cases, by giving him his freedom.
     The number of blacks arrested was one hundred and thirty-one.  Of these, thirty-five were executed, forty-one acquitted, and the rest sentenced to be transported.  Many a brave hero fell; but History, faithful to her high trust, will engrave the name of Denmark Veazie on the same monument with Moses, Hampden, Tell, Bruce, Wallace, Toussaint, Lafayette, and Washington.

     WM G NELL was steward on board the ship Gen. Gadsden, when she made good her escape from the British brig Recruit, July 28th, 1812.  They put into Boston, where my father took up his abode.
     A few days after the escape, the two captains were at the "Indian Queen Tavern," in Bromfield street.  The British captain was relating the particulars of the chase, when the Yankee captain (overhearing) acknowledged himself as the one who had given John Bull the slip.
 

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