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CLOTELLE,
OR,
THE COLORED HEROINE.
3 &al of the $outhern States.
BY
WILLIAM WELLS BROWN,
Author of “Sketches of PLACEs AND People Abroad,” “The BLAck MAN,"
“THE NEGRO IN THE AMERICAN REBELLIoN,” &c.
-
“Ask you what provocation I have had?
The strong antipathy of good to bad.
- When truth or virtue an affront endures,
The affront is mine, my friend, and should be yours.”
Pope.
B O S T ON:
LEE & SHEPARD, 149 WASHINGTON STREET.
1867.


To
MRS. ANNIE G. BROWN,
MY Wtee,
wHo, ON READING THE MANUSCRIPT, so MUCH ADMIRED THR
CHARACTER OF CLOTELLE AS TO NAME OUR DAUGHTER
AFTER THE HEROINE,
&His &nprettmbing $olume
IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
BY THE AUTHOR.


C L 0 T E L L E.
C H A P T E R I.
THE SOUTHERN SOCIAL CIRCLE.
OR many years the South has been noted for its beautiful Quadroon
women. Bottles of ink, and reams of paper, have been used to
portray the “finely-cut and well-moulded features,” the “silken curls,”
the “dark and brilliant eyes,” the “splendid forms,” the “fascinating
smiles,” and “accomplished manners” of these impassioned and volup-
tuous daughters of the two races, – the unlawful product of the crime
of human bondage. When we take into consideration the fact that no
safeguard was ever thrown around virtue, and no inducement held out
to slave-women to be pure and chaste, we will not be surprised when
told that immorality pervades the domestic circle in the cities and towns
of the South to an extent unknown in the Northern States. Many a
planter's wife has dragged out a miserable existence, with an aching
heart, at seeing her place in the husband's affections usurped by the
unadorned beauty and captivating smiles of her waiting-maid. Indeed,
the greater portion of the colored women, in the days of slavery, had
no greater aspiration than that of becoming the finely-dressed mistress
of some white man. At the negro balls and parties, that used to be so
frequently given, this class of women generally made the most splendid
appearance.
A few years ago, among the many slave-women of Richmond, Va.,
who hired their time of their masters, was Agnes, a mulatto owned by
John Graves, Esq., and who might be heard boasting that she was the
d


C. L. O. T E L L E. 7
Henry Linwood paid great attention to Isabella, which was looked
upon with gratification by her mother, and became a matter of general
conversation with all present. Of course, the young man escorted the
beautiful quadroon home that evening, and became the favorite visitor
at the house of Agnes.
It was on a beautiful moonlight night in the month of August, when
all who reside in tropical climates are eagerly gasping for a breath of
fresh air, that Henry Linwood was in the garden which surrounded
Agnes’ cottage, with the young quadroon by his side. He drew from
his pocket a newspaper wet from the press, and read the following ad-
vertisement: - -
N'b: Seventy-nine negroes will be offered for sale on Monday,
September 10, at 12 o'clock, being the entire stock of the late Jolin
Graves. The negroes are in an excellent condition, and all warranted
against the common vices. Among them are several mechanics, able-
bodied field-hands, plough-boys, and women with children, some of them
very prolific, affording a rare opportunity for any one who wishes to raise
a strong and healthy lot of servants for their own use. Also several
mulatto girls of rare personal qualities, - two of these very superior.
Among the above slaves advertised for sale were Agnes and her two
daughters. Ere young Linwood left the quadroon that evening, he
promised her that he would become her purchaser, and make her free
and her own mistress. -
Mr. Graves had long been considered not only an excellent and up-
right citizen of the first standing among the whites, but even the slaves
regarded him as one of the kindest of masters. Having inherited his
slaves with the rest of his property, he became possessed of them with-
out any consultation or wish of his own. He would neither buy nor
sell slaves, and was exceedingly careful, in letting them out, that they
did not find oppressive and tyrannical masters. No slave speculator
ever dared to cross the threshold of this planter of the Old Dominion.
He was a constant attendant upon religious worship, and was noted for
his general benevolence. The American Bible Society, the American
Tract Society, and the cause of Foreign Missions, found in him a liberal
friend. He was always anxious that his slaves should appear well on
the Sabbath, and have an opportunity of hearing the word of God.
C H A P T E R II.
The NEGRO SALE.
As might have been expected, the day of sale brought an unusually
large number together to compete for the property to be sold. Farmers,
who make a business of raising slaves for the market, were there, and


8 C L 0 7" E L L E.
slave-traders, who make a business of buying human beings in the
slave-raising States and taking them to the far South, were also in at-
tendance. Men and women, too, who wished to purchase for their own
use, had found their way to the slave sale.
In the midst of the throng was one who felt a deeper interest in the
result of the sale than any other of the bystanders. This was young
Linwood. True to his promise, he was there with a blank bank-check
in his pocket, awaiting with impatience to enter the list as a bidder for
the beautiful slave.
It was indeed a heart-rending scene to witness the lamentations of
these slaves, all of whom had grown up together on the old homestead
of Mr. Graves, and who had been treated with great £ that
gentleman, during his life. Now they were to be separated, and form
new relations and companions. Such is the precarious condition of the
slave. Even when with a good master, there is no certainty of his hap-
piness in the future.
The less valuable slaves were first placed upon the auction-block,
one after another, and sold to the highest bidder. Husbands and wives
were separated with a degree of indifference that is unknown in any
other relation in life. Brothers and sisters were torn from each other,
and mothers saw their children for the last time on earth.
It was late in the day, and when the greatest number of persons were
thought to be present, when Agnes and her daughters were brought out
to the place of sale. The mother was first put upon the auction-block,
and sold to a noted negro trader named Jennings. Marion was next
ordered to ascend the stand, which she did with a trembling step, and
was sold for $1200.
All eyes were now turned on Isaballa, as she was led forward by the
auctioneer. The appearance of the handsome quadroon caused a deep
sensation among the crowd. There she stood, with a skin as fair as
most white women, her features as beautifully regular as any of her
sex of pure Anglo-Saxon blood, her long black hair done up in the
neatest manner, her form tall and graceful, and her whole appearance
indicating one superior to her condition.
The auctioneer commenced by saying that Miss Isabella was fit to
deck the drawing-room of the finest mansion in Virginia.
“How much, gentlemen, for this real Albino!—fit fancy-girl for any
one! She enjoys good health, and has a sweet temper. How much do
you say?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“Only five hundred for such a girl as this? Gentlemen, she is worth
a deal more than that sum. You certainly do not know the value of


C. L. O. T E L L E. 11
would be there with a prime lot of able-bodied slaves, men and women,
fit for field-service, with a few extra ones calculated for house-servants,
—all between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five years; but like most
men who make a business of speculating in human beings, he often
bought many who were far advanced in years, and would try to pass them
off for five or six years younger than they were. Few persons can
arrive at anything approaching the real age of the negro, by mere obser-
vation, unless they are well acquainted with the race. Therefore, the
slave-trader frequently carried out the deception with perfect impunity.
After the steamer had left the wharf and was fairly out on the bosom
of the broad Mississippi, the speculator called his servant Pompey to him;
and instructed him as to getting the negroes ready for market. Among
the forty slaves that the trader had on this occasion, were some whose
appearance indicated that they had seen some years and had gone
through considerable service. Their gray hair and whiskers at once
pronounced them to be above the ages set down in the trader's adver-
tisement. Pompey had long been with Jennings, and understood his
business well, and if he did not take delight in the discharge of his
duty, he did it at least with a degree of alacrity, so that he might re-
ceive the approbation of his master.
Pomp, as he was usually called by the trader, was of real negro blood,
and would often say, when alluding to himself, “Dis nigger am no coun-
terfeit, he is de ginuine artikle. Dis chile is none of your haf-and-haf,
dere is no bogus about him.”
Pompey was of low stature, round face, and, like most of his race,
had a set of teeth, which, for whiteness and beauty, could not be sur-
passed; his eyes were large, lips thick, and hair short and woolly.
Pompey had been with Jennings so long, and had seen so much of
buying and selling of his fellow-creatures, that he appeared perfectly
indifferent to the heart-rending scenes which daily occurred in his pres-
ence. Such is the force of habit:-
“Vice is a monster of such frightful mien,
That to be hated, needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with its face,
We first endure, then pity, them embrace.”
It was on the second day of the steamer's voyage, that Pompey se-
lected five of the oldest slaves, took them into a room by themselves,
and commenced preparing them for the market.
“Now,” said he, addressing himself to the company, “I is de chap
dat is to get you ready for de Orleans market, so dat you will bring
marser a good price. How old is you?" addressing himself to a man
not less than forty.


C. L. O. T E L L E. 13
By the time the boats had reached Memphis they were side by side,
and each exerting itself to get in advance of the other. The night was
clear, the moon shining brightly, and the boats so near to each other
that the passengers were within speaking distance. On board the Pa-
triot the firemen were using oil, lard, butter, and even bacon, with wood,
for the purpose of raising the steam to its highest pitch. The blaze
mingled with the black smoke that issued from the pipes of the other
boat, which showed that she also was burning something more com-
bustible than wood.
The firemen of both boats, who were slaves, were singing songs such
as can only be heard on board a Southern steamer. The boats now
came abreast of each other, and nearer and nearer, until they were
ocked so that men could pass from one to the other. The wildest ex-
citement prevailed among the men employed on the steamers, in which
the passengers freely participated.
The Patriot now stopped to take in passengers, but still no steam was
permitted to escape. On the starting of the boat again, cold water was
forced into the boilers by the feed-pumps, and, as might have been ex-
pected, one of the boilers exploded with terrific force, carrying away
the boiler-deck and tearing to pieces much of the machinery. One
dense fog of steam filled every part of the vessel, while shrieks, groans,
and cries were heard on every side. Men were running hither and
thither looking for their wives, and women were flying about in the
wildest confusion seeking for their husbands. Dismay appeared on
every countenance.
The saloons and cabins soon looked more like hospitals than any-
thing else; but by this time the Patriot had drifted to the shore, and the
other steamer had come alongside to render assistance to the disabled
boat. The killed and wounded (nineteen in number) were put on
shore, and the Patriot, taken in tow by the Washington, was once more
on her journey.
It was half-past twelve, and the passengers, instead of retiring to
their berths, once more assembled at the gambling-tables. The practice
of gambling on the western waters has long been a source of annoyance
to the more moral persons who travel on our great rivers. Thousands
of dollars often change owners during a passage from St. Louis or Louis-
ville to New Orleans, on a Mississippi steamer. Many men are com-
pletely ruined on such occasions, and duels are often the consequence.
“Go call my boy, steward,” said Mr. Jones, as he took his cards one
by one from the table.
In a few minutes a fine-looking, bright-eyed mulatto boy, apparently
about sixteen years of age, was standing by his master's side at the
table.


C. L. O. T E L L E. 17
The examination commenced, and was carried on in such a nuanner
as to shock the feelings of any one not entirely devoid of the milk of
human kindness.
“What are you wiping your eyes for?” inquired a fat, red-faced
man, with a white hat set on one side of his head and a cigar in his
mouth, of a woman who sat on one of the benches.
“Because I left my man behind.”
“Oh, if I buy you, I will furnish you with a better man than you
left. I’ve got lots of young bucks on my farm.”
“I don't want and never will have another man,” replied the woman.
“What's your name?” asked a man in a straw hat of a tall negro
who stood with his arms folded across his breast, leaning against the
wall.
“My name is Aaron, sar.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Where were you raised?”
“In ole Wirginny, sar.”
“How many men have owned you?”
* Four.”
“Do you enjoy good health?”
“Yes, sar.”
“How long did you live with your first owner?”
“Twenty years.”
“Did you ever run away?”
“No, sar.”
“Did you ever strike your master?”
“No, sar.”
“Were you ever whipped much?’”
“No, sar; I spose I didn't desarve it, sar.”
“How long did you live with your second master?”
“Ten years, sar.”
“Have you a good appetite?”
“Yes, sar.”
“Can you eat your allowance?”
“Yes, sar, - when I can get it.”
“Where were you employed in Virginia?”
“I worked de tobacker fiel'.” •
“In the tobacco field, eh?”
“Yes, sar.”
“How old did you say you was?”
“Twenty-five, sar, nex' sweet-'tater-diggin' time.”
“I am a cotton-planter, and if I buy you, you will have to work in
2


C. L. O. T E L L E. 19
South, but are looked upon as geniuses in a small way, and who are not
invited to all the parties in the neighborhood. Mr. Wilson was not an
exception to this rule. The society into which he was thrown, on his
arrival at Natchez, was too brilliant for him not to be captivated by it,
and, as might have been expected, he succeeded in captivating a plan-
tation with seventy slaves if not the heart of the lady to whom it be-
longed.
Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a large congre-
gation with a snug salary. Like other planters, Mr. Wilson confided
the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby, an overseer of high reputation in
his way. -
The Poplar Farm, as it was called, was situated in a beautiful valley,
nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River. The once un-
shorn face of nature had given way, and the farm now blossomed with
a splendid harvest. The neat cottage stood in a grove, where Lombardy
poplars lift their tops almost to prop the skies, where the willow, lo-
cust, and horse-chestnut trees spread forth their branches, and flowers
never ceased to blossom.
This was the parson's country residence, where the family spent only
two months during the year. His town residence was a fine villa, seated
on the brow of a hill, at the edge of the city.
It was in the kitchen of this house that Agnes found her new home.
Mr. Wilson was every inch a democrat, and early resolved that “his
people,” as he called his slaves, should be well-fed and not over-worked,
and therefore laid down the law and gospel to the overseer as well as to
the slaves. “It is my wish,” said he to Mr. Carlingham, an old school-
fellow who was spending a few days with him, – “It is my wish that
a new system be adopted on the plantations in this State. I believe
that the sons of Ham should have the gospel, and I intend that mine
shall have it. The gospel is calculated to make mankind better and
none should be without it.”
“What say you,” said Carlingham, “about the right of man to his
liberty?”
“Now, Carlingham, you have begun to harp again about men's rights.
I really wish that you could see this matter as I do.”
“I regret that I cannot see eye to eye with you,” said Carlingham.
“I am a disciple of Rousseau, and have for years made the rights of
man my study, and I must confess to you that I see no difference be-
tween white and black, as it regards liberty.”
“Now, my dear Carlingham, would you really have the negroes enjoy
the same rights as ourselves?”
“I would most certainly.. Look at our great Declaration of Inde-


20 O L 0 T.E. L. L. E.
pendence! look even at the Constitution of our own Connecticut, and
see what is said in these about liberty.” -
“I regard all this talk about rights as mere humbug. The Bible is
older than the Declaration of Independence, and there I take my stand.”
A long discussion followed, in which both gentlemen put forth their
peculiar ideas with much warmth of feeling.
During this conversation, there was another person in the room, seated
by the window, who, although at work, embroidering a fine collar, paid
minute attention to what was said. This was Georgiana, the only
daughter of the parson, who had but just returned from Connecticut,
where she had finished her education. She had had the opportunity of
contrasting the spirit of Christianity and liberty in New England with
that of slavery in her native State, and had learned to feel deeply for
the injured negro.
Georgiana was in her nineteenth year, and had been much benefited
by her residence of five years at the North. Her form was tall and
graceful, her features regular and well-defined, and her complexion was
illuminated by the freshness of youth, beauty, and health.
The daughter differed from both the father and visitor upon the subject
which they had been discussing; and as soon as an opportunity offered,
she gave it as her opinion that the Bible was both the bulwark of Chris-
tianity and of liberty. With a smile she said,—
“Of course, papa will overlook my difference with him, for although
I am a native of the South, I am by education and sympathy a North-
erner.” -
Mr. Wilson laughed, appearing rather pleased than otherwise at the
manner in which his daughter had expressed herself. From this Geor-
giana took courage and continued,—
“‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. This single passage of
Scripture should cause us to have respect for the rights of the slave.
True Christian love is of an enlarged and disinterested nature. It loves
all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, without regard to color
or condition.”
“Georgiana, my dear, you are an abolitionist, — your talk is fanati-
cism!'” said Mr. Wilson, in rather a sharp tone; but the subdued look
of the girl and the presence of Carlingham caused him to soften his
language. - -
Mr. Wilson having lost his wife by consumption, and Georgiana being
his only child, he loved her too dearly to say more, even if he felt dis-
posed. A silence followed this exhortatian from the young Christian,
but her remarks had done a noble work. The father's heart was
touched, and the sceptic, for the first time, was viewing Christianity in
its true light. -





26 C. L. O. T E L L E.
“Ah! your case is a bad one; ef I don't do something for you, and
dat pretty quick, you'll be a gone coon, and dat's sartin.”
At this the man appeared frightened, and inquired what was the mat-
ter with him, in answer to which Sam said, –
“I done told dat your case is a bad one, and dat's enuff.” *
On Sam's returning to his master's bedside, the latter said, -
“Well, Sam, what do you think is the matter with him?”
“His stomach is out ob order, sar,” he replied.
“What do you think had better be done for him?”
“I tink I'd better bleed him and gib him a dose ob calomel,” returned
Sam.
So, to the latter's gratification, the master let him have his own way.
On one occasion, when making pills and ointment, Sam made a great
mistake. He got the preparations for both mixed together, so that he
could not legitimately make either. But fearing that if he threw the
stuff away, his master would flog him, and being afraid to inform his
superior of the mistake, he resolved to make the whole batch of pill and
ointment stuff into pills. He well knew that the powder over the pills
would hide the inside, and the fact that most persons shut their eyes
when taking such medicine led the young doctor to feel that all would
be right in the end. Therefore Sam made his pills, boxed them up, put
on the labels, and placed them in a conspicuous position on one of the
shelves. -
Sam felt a degree of anxiety about his pills, however. It was a strange
mixture, and he was not certain whether it would kill or cure; but he
was willing that it should be tried. At last the young doctor had his
vanity gratified. Col. Tallen, one of Dr. Saxondale's patients, drove up
one morning, and Sam as usual ran out to the gate to hold the colonel's
horse. -
“Call your master,” said the colonel; “I will not get out.”
The doctor was soon beside the carriage, and inquired about the health
of his patient. After a little consultation, the doctor returned to his
office, took down a box of Sam's new pills, and returned to the car-
riage.
“Take two of these every morning and night,” said the doctor, “and
if you don't feel relieved, double the dose.”
“Good gracious,” exclaimed Sam in an undertone, when he heard
his master tell the colonel how to take the pills.
It was several days before Sam could learn the result of his new med-
icine. One afternoon, about a fortnight after the colonel's visit, Sam
saw his master's patient riding up to the gate on horseback. The doctor
happened to be in the yard, and met the colonel and said,—
“How are you now?”


34 C. L. O. T E L L E.
*.
painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave and would have
broken up the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have en-
tered the sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object
she wished to find.
The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon surround-
ing objects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door, and looking at his
watch, said, - -
“I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten.”
Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door.
As Henry walked to the gate, Isabella followed with her left hand
locked in his. Again he looked at his watch, and said, -
“I must go.” -
“It is more than a year since you staid all night,” murmured Isa-
bella, as he folded her convulsively in his arms, and pressed upon her
beautiful lips a parting kiss.
He was nearly out of sight when, with bitter sobs, the quadroon re-
traced her steps to the door of the cottage. Clotelle had in the mean
time awoke, and now inquired of her mother how long her father had
been gone. At that instant, a knock was heard at the door, and suppos-
ing that it was Henry returning for something he had forgotten, as he
frequently did, Isabella flew to let him in. To her amazement, how-
ever, a strange woman stood in the door.
“Who are you that comes here at this late hour?” demanded the
half-frightened Isabella. -
Without making any reply, Mrs. Miller pushed the quadroon aside,
and entered the house.
“What do you want here?” again demanded Isabella.
“I am in search of you,” thundered the maddened Mrs. Miller; but
thinking that her object would be better served by seeming to be kind,
she assumed a different tone of voice, and began talking in a pleasing
Infinner.
In this way, she succeeded in finding out the connection existing be-
tween Linwood and Isabella, and after getting all she could out of the
unsuspecting woman, she informed her that the man she so fondly loved
had been married for more than two years. Seized with dizziness, the
poor, heart-broken woman fainted and fell upon the floor. How long
she remained there she could not tell; but when she returned to con-
sciousness, the strange woman was gone, and her child was standing by
her side. When she was so far recovered as to regain her feet, Isabella
went to the door, and even into the yard, to see if the old woman was
not somewhere about.
As she stood there, the full moon cast its bright rays over her whole
person, giving her an angelic appearance and imparting to her flowing


C. L. O. T E L L E. 41
stopped humming, and the butterflies had hid themselves under the
broad leaves of the burdock. Without a morsel of dinner, the poor
child was put in the garden, and set to weeding it, her"arms, neck, and
head completely bare. Unaccustomed to toil, Clotelle wept as she ex-
erted herself in pulling up the weeds. Old Dinah, the cook, was as
unfeeling as her mistress, and she was pleased to see the child made to
work in the hot sun.
“Dat white nigger'll soon be brack enuff if missis keeps her workin'
out dar,” she said, as she wiped the perspiration from her sooty brow.
Dinah was the mother of thirteen children, all of whom had been
taken from her when young; and this, no doubt, did much to harden
her feelings, and make her hate all white persons.
The burning sun poured its rays on the face of the friendless child
until she sank down in the corner of the garden, and was actually
broiled to sleep.
“Dat little nigger ain't workin' a bit, missus,” said Dinah to Mrs.
Miller, as the latter entered the kitchen.
“She's lying in the sun seasoning; she will work the better by and
by,” replied the mistress.
“Dese white niggers always tink dey seff good as white folks,” said
the cook.
“Yes; but we will teach them better, won't we, Dinah?” rejoined
Mrs. Miller.
“Yes, missus,” replied Dinah; “I don't like dese merlatter niggers,
no how. Dey always want to set dey seff up for sumfin' big.” With
this remark the old cook gave one of her coarse laughs, and continued:
“Missis understands human nature, don't she? Ah! ef she ain't a
whole team and de ole gray mare to boot, den Dinah don't know
nuffin'.” *
Of course, the mistress was out of the kitchen before these last re-
marks were made. -
It was with the deepest humiliation that Henry learned from one of
his own slaves the treatment which his child was receiving at the hands
of his relentless mother-in-law.
The scorching sun had the desired effect; for in less than a fortnight,
Clotelle could scarcely have been recognized as the same child. Often
was she seen to weep, and heard to call on her mother.
Mrs. Miller, when at church on Sabbath, usually, on warm days, took
Nancy, one of her servants, in her pew, and this girl had to fan her mis-
tress during service. Unaccustomed to such a soft and pleasant seat,
the servant would very soon become sleepy and begin to nod. Some-
times she would go fast asleep, which annoyed the mistress exceeding-
ly. But Mrs. Miller had nimble fingers, and on them sharp nails, and,


C L O T E L L E. 45
with his gang of human cattle, of whom Isabella was one. Most quad-
roon women who are taken to the South are either sold to gentlemen for
their own use or disposed of as house-servants or waiting-maids. For-
tunately for Isabella, she was sold for the latter purpose. Jennings
found a purchaser for her in the person of Mr. James French.
Mrs. French was a severe mistress. All who lived with her, though
well-dressed, were scantily fed and over-worked. Isabella found her
new situation far different from her Virginia cottage-life. She had
frequently heard Wicksburg spoken of as a cruel place for slaves, and
now she was in a position to test the truthfulness of the assertion.
A few weeks after her arrival, Mrs. French began to show to Isabella
that she was anything but a pleasant and agreeable mistress. What
social virtues are possible in a society of which injustice is a primary
characteristic,-in a society which is divided into two classes, masters
and slaves? Every married woman at the South looks upon her hus-
band as unfaithful, and regards every negro woman as a rival.
Isabella had been with her new mistress but a short time when she
was ordered to cut off her long and beautiful hair. The negro is natu-
rally fond of dress and outward display. He who has short woolly hair
combs and oils it to death; he who has long hair would sooner have his
teeth drawn than to part with it. But, however painful it was to
Isabella, she was soon seen with her hair cut short, and the sleeves of
her dress altered to fit tight to her arms. Even with her hair short and
with her ill-looking dress, Isabella was still handsome. Her life had
been a secluded one, and though now twenty-eight years of age, her
beauty had only assumed a quieter tone. The other servants only
laughed at Isabella's misfortune in losing her beautiful hair.
“Miss 'Bell needn't strut so big; she got short nappy har's well's I,”
said Nell, with a broad grin that showed her teeth.
“She tink she white when she cum here, wid dat long har ob hers,”
replied Mill.
“Yes,” continued Nell, “missus make her take down her wool, so
she no put it up to-day.”
The fairness of Isabella's complexion was regarded with envy by the
servants as well as by the mistress herself. This is one of the hard fea-
tures of slavery. To-day a woman is mistress of her own cottage; to-
morrow she is sold to one who aims to make her life as intolerable as
possible. And let it be remembered that the house-servant has the best
situation a slave can occupy.
But the degradation and harsh treatment Isabella experienced in her
new home was nothing compared to the grief she underwent at being
separated from her dear child. Taken from her with scarcely a mo-
ment's warning, she knew not what had become of her.


46 C i, o T' E L L p.
This deep and heartfelt grief of Isabella was soon perceived by her
owners, and fearing that her refusal to take proper food would cause her
death, they resolved to sell her. Mr. French found no difficulty in secur-
ing a purchaser for the quadroon woman, for such are usually the most
marketablé-kind of property. Isabella was sold at private sale to a
young man for a housekeeper; but even he had missed his aim.
Mr. Gordon, the new master, was a man of pleasure. He was the
owner of a large sugar plantation, which he had left under the charge
of an overseer, and was now giving himself up to the pleasures of a city
life. At first Mr. Gordon sought to win Isabella's favor by flattery and
presents, knowing that whatever he gave her he could take from her
again. The poor innocent creature drcaded every moment lest the
scene should change. At every interview with Gordon she stoutly
maintained that she had left a husband in Virginia, and could never
think of taking another. In this she considered that she was truthful,
for she had ever regarded Henry as her husband. The gold watch and
chain and other glittering presents which Gordon gave to her were all
kept unused. -
In the same house with Isabella was a man-servant who had from
time to time hired himself from his master. His name was William.
He could feel for Isabella, for he, like her, had been separated from near
and dear relatives, and he often tried to console the poor woman. One
day Isabella observed to him that her hair was growing out again.
“Yes,” replied William;"you look a good deal like a man with your
short hair.”
“Oh,” rejoined she, “I have often been told that I would make a
better looking man than woman, and if I had the money I might avail
myself of it to bid farewell to this place.”
In a moment afterwards, Isabella feared that she had said too much,
and laughingly observed, “I am always talking some nonsense; you
must not heed me.”
William was a tall, full-blooded African, whose countenance beamed
with intelligence. Being a mechanic, he had by industry earned more
money than he had paid to his owner for his time, and this he had laid
aside, with the hope that he might some day get enough to purchase his
freedom. He had in his chest about a hundred and fifty dollars. His
was a heart that felt for others, and he had again and again wiped the
tears from his eyes while listening to Isabella's story.
“If she can get free with a little money, why not give her what I
have?” thought he, and then resolved to do it.
An hour after, he entered the quadroon's room, and, laying the money
in her lap, said, –
“There, Miss Isabella, you said just now that if you had the means


C. L. O. T E L L E. 47
you would leave this place. There is money enough to take you to
England, where you will be free. You are much fairer than many of
the white women of the South, and can easily pass for a free white wo-
nian.”
At first Isabella thought it was a plan by which the negro wished to
try her fidelity to her owner; but she was soon convinced, by his earnest
manner and the deep feeling he manifested, that he was entirely sin-
cere. -
“I will take the money,” said she, “only on one condition, and that
is that I effect your escape, as well as my own.”
“How can that be done?” he inquired, eagerly. -
“I will assume the disguise of a gentleman, and you that of a ser-
vant, and we will thus take passage in a steamer to Cincinnati, and from
thence to Canada.”
With full confidence in Isabella's judgment, William consented at once
to the proposition. The clothes were purchased; everything was ar-
ranged, and the next night, while Mr. Gordon was on one of his sprees,
Isabella, under the assumed name of Mr. Smith, with William in attend-
ance as a servant, took passage for Cincinnati in the steamer Heroine.
With a pair of green glasses over her eyes, in addition to her other dis-
guise, Isabella made quite a gentlemanly appearance. To avoid con-
versation, however, she kept closely to her state-room, under the plea of
illness.
Meanwhile, William was playing his part well with the servants.
He was loudly talking of his master's wealth, and nothing on the boat
appeared so good as in his master's fine mansion. -
“I don't like dese steamboats, no how,” said he; “I hope when mas-
sa goes on anoder journey, he take de carriage and de hosses.”
After a nine-days’ passage, the Heroine landed at Cincinnati, and Mr.
Smith and his servant walked on shore.
“William, you are now a free man, and can go on to Canada,” said
Isabella; “I shall go to Virginia, in search of my daughter.”
This sudden announcement fell heavily upon William's ears, and with
tears he besought her not to jeopardize her liberty in such a manner;
but Isabella had made up her mind to rescue her child if possible.
Taking a boat for Wheeling, Isabella was soon on her way to her na-
tive State. Several months had elapsed since she left Richmond, and
all her thoughts were centred on the fate of her dear Clotelle. It was
with a palpitating heart that this injured woman entered the stage-coach
at Wheeling and set out for Richmond.


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O' L (, T J. L. L. P. 55
an errand into the cook's department to see who the girl was. He, how-
ever, met her in the hall, as she was about going out.
“Whom did you wish to see?” he inquired.
“Miss Gertrude,” was the reply.
“What did you want to see her for?” he again asked. -
“My mistress told me to give her and Master. Henry her compliments,
and ask them to come over and spend the evening.”
“Who is your mistress?” he eagerly inquired.
“Mrs. Miller, sir,” responded the girl. -
“And what's your name?” asked Henry, with a trembling voice.
“Clotelle, sir,” was the reply.
The astonished father stood completely amazed, looking at the now
womanly form of her who, in his happier days, he had taken on his
knee with so much fondness and alacrity. It was then that he saw his
own and Isabella's features combined in the beautiful face that he was
then beholding. It was then that he was carried back to the days when
with a woman's devotion, poor Isabella hung about his neck and told
him how lonely were the hours in his absence. He could stand it no
longer. Tears rushed to his eyes, and turning upon his heel, he went
back to his own room. It was then that Isabella was revenged; and
she no doubt looked smilingly down from her home in the spirit-land
on the scene below. -
On Gertrude's return from her shopping tour, she found Henry in a
melancholy mood, and soon learned its cause. As Gertrude had borne
him no children, it was but natural, that he should now feel his love
centering in Clotelle, and he now intimated to his wife his determina-
tion to remove his daughter from the hands of his mother-in-law.
When this news reached Mrs. Miller, through her daughter, she be-
came furious with rage, and calling Clotelle into her room, stripped her
shoulders bare and flogged her in the presence of Gertrude.
It was nearly a week after the poor girl had been so severely whipped
and for no cause whatever, that her father learned of the circumstance
through one of the servants. With a degree of boldness unusual for
him, he immediately went to his mother-in-law and demanded his child.
But it was too late, – she was gone. To what place she had been sent
no one could tell, and Mrs. Miller refused to give any information
whatever relative to the girl.
It was then that Linwood felt deepest the evil of the institution under
which he was living; for he knew that his daughter would be exposed
to all the vices prevalent in that part of the country where marriage
is not recognized in connection with that class."


58 C. L. O. T E L L E.
features were not bad, lips thin, nose prominent, hands and feet small.
His brilliant black eyes lighted up his whole countenance. His hair
which was nearly straight, hung in curls upon his lofty brow. George
Combe or Fowler would have selected his head for a model. He was
brave and daring, strong in person, fiery in spirit, yet kind and true in
his affections, earnest in his doctrines. Clotelle had been at the parson's
but a few weeks when it was observed that a mutual feeling had grown up
between her and Jerome. As time rolled on, they became more and more
attached to each other. After satisfying herself that these two really
loved, Georgiana advised their marriage. But Jerome contemplated his
escape at some future day, and therefore feared that if married it might
militate against it. He hoped, also, to be able to get Clotelle away too,
and it was this hope that kept him from trying to escape by himself.
Dante did not more love his Beatrice, Swift his Stella, Waller his Sac-
charissa, Goldsmith his Jessamy bride, or Burns his Mary, than did
Jerome his Clotelle. Unknown to her father, Miss Wilson could permit
these two slaves to enjoy more privileges than any of the other servants.
The young mistress taught Clotelle, and the latter imparted her instruc-
tions to her lover, until both could read so as to be well understood.
Jerome felt his superiority, and always declared that no master should
ever flog him. Aware of his high spirit and determination, Clotelle
was in constant fear lest some difficulty might arise between her lover
and his master.
One day Mr. Wilson, being somewhat out of temper and irritated at
what he was pleased to call Jerome's insolence, ordered him to follow
him to the barn to be flogged. The young slave obeyed his master, but
those who saw him at the moment felt that he would not submit to be
whipped. -
“No, sir,” replied Jerome, as his master told him to take off his coat:
“I will serve you, Master Wilson, I will labor for you day and night, if
you demand it, but I will not be whipped.”
This was too much for a white man to stand from a negro, and the
preacher seized his slave by the throat, intending to choke him. But
for once he found his match. Jerome knocked him down, and then es-
caped through the back-yard to the street, and from thence to the woods.
Recovering somewhat from the effect of his fall, the parson regained
his feet and started in pursuit of the fugitive. Finding, however, that
the slave was beyond his reach, he at once resolved to put the dogs on
his track. Tabor, the negro-catcher, was sent for, and in less than an
hour, eight or ten men, including the parson, were in the woods with
hounds, trying the trails. These dogs will attack a negro at their mas-
ter's bidding; and cling to him as the bull-dog will cling to a beast.
Many are the speculations as to whether the negro will be secured alive





C E O T E L L E. 61
or dead, when these dogs once get on his track. Whenever there is to
be a negro hunt, there is no lack of participants. Many go to enjoy the
fun which it is said they derive from these scenes.
The company had been in the woods but a short time ere they got on
the track of two fugitives, one of whom was Jerome. The slaves im-
mediately bent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the
dogs, when put upon their scent would be unable to follow them through
the water.
The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou
Sara road, about four miles distant. Nearer and nearer the whimper-
ing pack pressed on; their delusion begins to dispel. All at once the
truth flashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light-'tis
Tabor with his dogs!
The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an ir-
regular cry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack
presses on after its human prey.
They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by the
catch-dog. Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his mas-
ter, while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave. They return, and
the preacher sends his slave to jail.
C H A P T E R XIX.
THE TRUE HEROINE.
IN vain did Georgiana try to console Clotelle, when the latter heard,
through one of the other slaves, that Mr. Wilson had started with the
dogs in pursuit of Jerome. The poor girl well knew that he would be
caught, and that severe punishment, if not death, would be the result
of his capture. It was therefore with a heart filled with the deepest
grief that the slave-girl heard the footsteps of her master on his return
from the chase. The dogged and stern manner of the preacher forbade
even his daughter inquiring as to the success of his pursuit. Georgiana
secretly hoped that the fugitive had not been caught; she wished it for
the sake of the slave, and more especially for her maid-servant, whom
she regarded more as a companion than a menial. But the news of the
capture of Jerome soon spread through the parson's household, and
found its way to the ears of the weeping and heart-stricken Clotelle.
The reverend gentleman had not been home more than an hour ere
some of his parishioners called to know if they should not take the
negro from the prison and execute Lynch law upon him.
“No negro should be permitted to live after striking a white man; let


66 C L 0 7" E L L E.
The sun was just going down behind the trees as Clotelle entered the
prison to see Jerome for the last time. He was to die on the next day.
Her face was bent upon her hands, and the gushing tears were forcing
their way through her fingers. With beating heart and trembling
hands, evincing the deepest emotion, she threw her arms around" her
lover's neck and embraced him. But, prompted by her heart's un-
changing love, she had in her own mind a plan by which she hoped to
effect the escape of him to whom she had pledged her heart and hand.
While the overcharged clouds which had hung over the city during the
day broke, and the rain fell in torrents, amid the most terrific thunder
and lightning, Clotelle revealed to Jerome her plan for his escape.
“Dress yourself in my clothes,” said she, “and you can easily pass
the jailer.”
This Jerome at first declined doing. He did not wish to place a con-
fiding girl in a position where, in all probability, she would have to suf-
fer; but being assured by the young girl that her life would not be in
danger, he resolved to make the attempt. Clotelle being very tall, it
was not probable that the jailer would discover any difference in them.
At this moment, she took from her pocket a bunch of keys and un-
fastened the padlock, and freed him from the floor.
“Come, girl, it is time for you to go,” said the jailer, as Jerome was
holding the almost fainting girl by the hand. *
Being already attired in Clotelle's clothes, the disguised man embraced
the weeping girl, put his handkerchief to his face, and passed out of the
jail, without the keeper's knowing that his prisoner was escaping in a
disguise and under cover of the night.
C H A P T E R X. X.
THE HERo oE MANY ADVENTURES.
JEROME had scarcely passed the prison-gates, ere he reproached him-
self for having taken such a step. There seemed to him no hope of
escape out of the State, and what was a few hours or days at most, of
life to him, when, by obtaining it, another had been sacrificed. He was
on the eve of returning, when he thought of the last words uttered by
Clotelle. “Be brave and determined, and you will still be free.” The
words sounded like a charm in his ears and he went boldly forward.
Clotelle had provided a suit of men's clothes and had placed them
where her lover could get them, if he should succeed in getting out.
Returning to Mr. Wilson's barn, the fugitive changed his apparel, and
again retraced his steps into the street. To reach the Free States by


C L O T E L L E . 69
had heard that they disliked slavery. He, therefore, hastened toward
the drab-coated men, who, on his approach, opened the barn-door, and
told him to “run in.”
When Jerome entered the barn, the two farmers closed the door, re-
maining outside themselves, to confront the slave-catchers, who now
came up and demanded admission, feeling that they had their prey se-
cure.
“Thee can't enter my premises,” said one of the Friends, in rather a
musical voice. -
The negro-catchers urged their claim to the slave, and intimated that,
unless they were allowed to secure him, they would force their way in.
By this time, several other Quakers had gathered around the barn-door.
Unfortunately for the kidnappers, and most fortunately for the fugitive,
the Friends had just been holding a quarterly meeting in the neighbor-
hood, and a number of them had not yet returned to their homes.
After some talk, the men in drab promised to admit the hunters, pro-
vided they procured an officer and a search-warrant from a justice of the
peace. One of the slave-catchers was left to see that the fugitive did not
get away, while the others went in pursuit of an officer. In the mean
time, the owner of the barn sent for a hammer and nails, and began
nailing up the barn-door.
After an hour in search of the man of the law, they returned with an
officer and a warrant. The Quaker demanded to see the paper, and, af-
ter looking at it for some time, called to his son to go into the house for
his glasses. It was a long time before Aunt Ruth found the leather case,
and when she did, the glasses wanted wiping before they could be used.
After comfortably adjusting them on his nose, he read the warrant over
leisurely.
“Come, Mr. Dugdale, we can't wait all day,” said the officer.
“Well, will thee read it for me?” returned the Quaker.
The officer complied, and the man in drab said, -
“Yes, thee may go in, now. I am inclined to throw no obstacles in the
way of the execution of the law of the land.”
On approaching the door, the men found some forty or fifty nails in it,
... in the way of their progress.
“Lend me your hammer and a chisel, if you please, Mr. Dugdale,
said the officer.
“Please read that paper over again, will thee?” asked the Quaker
The officer once more read the warrant.
“I see nothing there which says I must furnish thee with tools to
open my door. If thee wants a hammer, thee must go elsewhere for it,
I tell thee plainly, thee can't have mine.”
The implements for opening the door are at length obtained, and, after


72 C. L. O. T E L L E.
This order of the court she would have cared but little for, had she
not been sincerely attached to her young mistress.
“Do try and sell her to some one who will use her well,” said Geor-
giana to her father, as he was about taking his hat to leave the house.
“I shall not trouble myself to do any such thing,” replied the hard-
hearted parson. “I leave the finding of a master for her with the
slave-dealer.”
Bathed in tears, Miss. Wilson paced her room in the absence of her
father. For many months Georgiana had been in a decline, and any
little trouble would lay her on a sick bed for days. She was, therefore,
poorly able to bear the loss of this companion, whom she so dearly
loved.
Mr. Wilson had informed his daughter that Clotelle was to be flogged;
and when Felice came in and informed her mistress that the poor girl
had just received fifty lashes on her bare person, the young lady fainted
and fell on the floor. The servants placed their mistress on the sofa, and
went in pursuit of their master. Little did the preacher think, on re-
turning to his daughter, that he should soon be bereft of her; yet such
was to be his lot. A blood-vessel had been ruptured, and the three phy-
sicians who were called in told the father that he must prepare to lose
his child. That moral courage and calmness, which was her great char-
acteristic, did not forsake Georgiana in her hour of death. She had ever
been kind to the slaves under her charge, and they loved and respected
her. At her request, the servants were all brought into her room, and
took a last farewell of their mistress. Seldom, if ever, was there wit-
nessed a more touching scene than this. There lay the young woman,
pale and feeble, with death stamped upon her countenance, surrounded
by the sons and daughters of Africa, some of whom had been separated
from every earthly tie, and the most of whose persons had been torn and
gashed by the negro-whip. Some were upon their knees at the bedside,
others standing around, and all weeping.
Death is a leveler; and neither age, sex, wealth, nor condition, can
avert when he is permitted to strike. The most beautiful flowers must
soon fade and droop and die. So, also, with man; his days are as
uncertain as the passing breeze. This hour he glows in the blush of
health and vigor, but the next, he may be counted with the number no
more known on earth. Oh, what a silence pervaded the house when
this young flower was gone! In the midst of the buoyancy of youth,
this cherished one had drooped and died. Deep were the sounds of
grief and mourning heard in that stately dwelling when the stricken
friends, whose office it had been to nurse and soothe the weary sufferer,
beheld her pale and motionless in the sleep of death. -
Who can imagine the feeling with which poor Clotelle received the


C L. O. T E L L E. r-
73
intelligence of her kind friend's death? The deep gashes of the cruel
whip had prostrated the lovely form of the quadroon, and she lay upon
her bed of straw in the dark cell. The speculator had bought her, but
had postponed her removal till she should recover. Her benefactress
was dead, and –
“Hope withering fled, and mercy sighed farewell.”
“Is Jerome safe?” she would ask herself continually. If her lover
could have but known of the sufferings of that sweet flower, — that
polyanthus over which he had so often been in his dreams, – he would
then have learned that she was worthy of his love.
It was more than a fortnight before the slave-trader could take his
prize to more comfortable quarters. Like Alcibiades, who defaced the
images of the gods and expected to be pardoned on the ground of ec-
centricity, so men who abuse God's image hope to escape the vengeance
of his wrath under the plea that the law sanctions their atrocious deeds.
C H A P T E R XX II.
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
It was a beautiful Sunday in September, with a cloudless sky, and
the rays of the sun parching the already thirsty earth, that Clotelle
stood at an upper window in Slater's slave-pen in New Orleans, gasping
for a breath of fresh air. The bells of thirty churches were calling the
people to the different places of worship. Crowds were seen wending
their way to the houses of God; one followed by a negro boy carrying
his master's Bible; another followed by her maid-servant holding the
mistress' fan; a third supporting an umbrella over his master's head to
shield him from the burning sun. Baptists immersed, Presbyterians
sprinkled, Methodists shouted, and Episcopalians read their prayers,
while ministers of the various sects preached that Christ died for all.
The chiming of the bells seemed to mock the sighs and deep groans of
the forty human beings then incarcerated in the slave-pen. These im-
prisoned children of God were many of them Methodists, some Bap-
tists, and others claiming to believe in the faith of the Presbyterians
and Episcopalians.
Oh, with what anxiety did these creatures await the close of that
Sabbath, and the dawn of another day, that should deliver them from
those dismal and close cells. Slowly the day passed away, and once
more the evening breeze found its way through the barred windows of
the prison that contained these injured sons and daughters of America.
-


82 C Lo T' p 1, L. p.
and the sea became rough. It was then that Clotelle felt that there was
hope of escaping. She had hitherto kept in the cabin, but now she ex-
pressed a wish to come on deck. The hanging clouds were narrowing
the horizon to a span, and gloomily mingling with the rising surges.
The old and grave-looking seamen shook their weather-wise heads as if
foretelling a storm.
As Clotelle came on deck, she strained her eyes in vain to catch a
farewell view of her native land. With a smile on her countenance, but
with her eyes filled with tears, she said, - -
“Farewell, farewell to the land of my birth, and welcome, welcome,
ye dark blue waves. I care not where I go, so it is
‘Where a tyrant never trod,
Where a slave was never known,
But where nature worships God,
If in the wilderness alone.’”
-
Devenant stood by her side, seeming proud of his future wife, with
his face in a glow at his success, while over his noble brow clustering
locks of glossy black hair were hanging in careless ringlets. His finely-
cut, classic features wore the aspect of one possessed with a large and
noble heart.
Once more the beautiful Clotelle whispered in the ear of her lover, -
“Away, away, o'er land and sea,
America is now no home for me.”
The winds increased with nightfall, and impenetrable gloom sur-
rounded the ship. The prospect was too uncheering, even to persons in
love. The attention which Devenant paid to Clotelle, although she had
been registered on the ship's passenger list as his sister, caused more
than one to look upon his as an agreeable travelling companion. His
tall, slender figure and fine countenance bespoke for him at first sight
one's confidence. That he was sincerely and deeply enamored of
. Clotelle all could see.
The weather hecame still more squally. The wind rushed through
the white, foaming waves, and the ship groaned with its own wild and
ungovernable labors, while nothing could be seen but the wild waste of
waters. The scene was indeed one of fearful sublimity.
Day came and went without any abatement of the storm. Despair
was now on every countenance. Occasionally a vivid flash of lightning
would break forth and illuminate the black and boiling surges that sur-
rounded the vessel, which was now scudding before the blast under bare
poles.
After five days of most intensely stormy weather, the sea settled down


84 C. L. O. T E L L E.
In due course of time they left for India, passing through Paris and
Lyons, taking ship at Marseilles. In the metropolis of France, they
spent a week, where the husband took delight in introducing his wife
to his brother officers in the French army, and where the newly-married
couple were introduced to Louis Philippe, then King of France. In
all of these positions, Clotelle sustained herself in a most ladylike man-
ner". -
At Lyons, they visited the vast factories and other public works, and
all was pleasure with them. The voyage from Marseilles to Calcutta
was very pleasant, as the weather was exceedingly fine. On arriving
in India, Captain Devenant and lady were received with honors – the
former for his heroic bravery in more than one battle, and the latter for
her fascinating beauty and pleasing manners, and the fact that she was
connected with one who was a general favorite with all who had his ac-
quaintance. This was indeed a great change for Clotelle. Six months
had not elapsed since her exposure in the slave-market of New Orleans.
This life is a stage, and we are indeed all actors.
C H A P T E R X. X W I.
THE HERO OF A NIGHT.
MoUNTED on a fast horse, with the Quaker's son for a guide, Jerome
pressed forward while Uncle Joseph was detaining the slave-catchers at
the barn-door, through which the fugitive had just escaped. When out
of present danger, fearing that suspicion might be aroused if he con-
tinued on the road in open day, Jerome buried himself in a thick, dark
forest until nightfall. With a yearning heart, he saw the splendor of the
setting sun lingering on the hills, as if loath to fade away and be lost in
the more sombre hues of twilight, which, rising from the east, was
slowly stealing over the expanse of heaven, bearing silence and repose,
which should cover his flight from a neighborhood to him so full of
dangers. -
Wearily and alone, with nothing but the hope of safety before him to
cheer him on his way, the poor fugitive urged his tired and trembling
limbs forward for several nights. The new suit of clothes with which
he had provided himself when he made his escape from his captors, and
the twenty dollars which the young Quaker had slipped into his hand,
when bidding him “Fare thee well,” would enable him to appear gen-
teelly as soon as he dared to travel by daylight, and would thus facili-
tate his progress toward freedom.
It was late in the evening when the fugitive slave arrived at a small


86 C'L 0 7" E L L. E.
coming through the window and slowly descending to the ground,
holding under one arm the inanimate form of the child. Another cheer,
and then another, made the welkin ring, as the stranger, with hail
burned and eyebrows closely singed, fainted at the foot of the ladder.
But the child was saved.
The stranger was Jerome. As soon as he revived, he shrunk from
every eye, as if he feared they would take from him the freedom which
he had gone through so much to obtain.
The next day, the fugitive took a vessel, and the following morning
found himself standing on the free soil of Canada. As his foot pressed
the shore, he threw himself upon his face, kissed the earth, and ex-
claimed, “O God! I thank thee that I am a free man.”
CHA PTE R XXVII.
TRUE FREEDOM.
THE history of the African race is God's illuminated clock, set in the
dark steeple of time. The negro has been made the hewer of wood
and the drawer of water for nearly all other nations. The people of the
United States, however, will have an account to settle with God, owing
to their treatment of the negro, which will far surpass the rest of man-
kind.
Jerome, on reaching Canada, felt for the first time that personal free-
dom which God intended that all who bore his image should enjoy.
That same forgetfulness of self which had always characterized him
now caused him to think of others. The thoughts of dear ones in
slavery were continually in his mind, and above all others, Clotelle oc-
cupied his thoughts. Now that he was free, he could better appreciate
her condition as a slave. Although Jerome met, on his arrival in Can-
ada, numbers who had escaped from the Southern States, he neverthe-
less shrank from all society, particularly that of females. The soft,
silver-gray tints on the leaves of the trees, with their snow-spotted
trunks, and a biting air, warned the new-born freeman that he was in
another climate. Jerome sought work, and soon found it; and ar-
ranged with his employer that the latter should go to Natchez in search
of Clotelle. The good Scotchman, for whom the fugitive was laboring,
freely offered to go down and purchase the girl, if she could be bought,
and let Jerome pay him in work. With such a prospect of future hap-
piness in view, this injured descendant of outraged and bleeding Africa
went daily to his toil with an energy hitherto unknown to him. But
oh, how vain are the hopes of man!


C L. O. T E L L E. 89
Finding it easier to give shillings than half-crowns, Jerome handed the
woman a shilling, and again restored his purse to his pocket, glad that
another woman was not to be seen.
Scarcely had he commenced congratulating himself, however, before
three men made their appearance, one after another.
“What have you done for me?” he asked of the first.
“I am the boots, sir.”
The purse came out once more, and a shilling was deposited in the
servant's hand.
“What do I owe you?” he inquired of the second.
“I took your honor's letter to the post, yesterday, sir.”
Another shilling left the purse.
“In the name of the Lord, what am I indebted to you for?” demand-
ed Jerome, now entirely out of patience, turning to the last of the trio.
“I told yer vership vot time it was, this morning.”
“Well!” exclaimed the indignant man, “ask here what o'clock it is,
and you have got to pay for it.”
He paid this last demand with a sixpence, regretting that he had not
commenced with sixpences instead of half-crowns.
Having cleared off all demands in the house, he started for the railway
station; but had scarcely reached the street, before he was accosted
by an old man with a broom in his hand, who, with an exceedingly low
bow, said, -
“I is here, yer lordship.”
“I did not send for you; what is your business?” demanded Je-
rome. - -
“I is the man what opened your lordship's cab-door, when your lord-
ship came to the house on Monday last, and I know your honor won't
allow a poor man to starve.”
Putting a sixpence in the old man's hand, Jerome once more started
for the depot. Having obtained letters of introduction to persons in
Manchester, he found no difficulty in getting a situation in a large manu-
facturing house there. Although the salary was small, yet the situation
was a much better one than he had hoped to obtain. His compensation
as out-door clerk enabled him to employ a man to teach him at night,
and, by continued study and attention to business, he was soon pro-
moted.
After three years in his new home, Jerome was placed in a still higher
position, where his aalary amounted to fifteen hundred dollars a year.
The drinking, smoking, and other expensive habits, which the clerks
usually indulged in, he carefully avoided. *
Being fond of poetry, he turned his attention to literature. Johnson's
“Lives of the Poets,” the writings of Dryden, Addison, Pope, Claren.


* C. L. O. T E L L E. 99
facturer, that gentleman received them with distinguished hcnors, and
gave them a splendid soiree, at which the elite of the city were assem-
bled. The sumptuously-furnished mansion was lavishly decorated for
the occasion, and every preparation made that could add to the novelty
or interest of the event.
Jerome, with his beautiful bride, next visited Cologne, the largest and
wealthiest city on the banks of the Rhine. The Cathedral of Cologne
is the most splendid structure of the kind in Europe, and Jerome and
Clotelle viewed with interest the beautiful arches and columns of this
stupendous building, which strikes with awe the beholder, as he gazes
at its unequalled splendor, surrounded, as it is, by villas, cottages, and
palace-like mansions, with the enchanting Rhine winding through the
vine-covered hills.
After strolling over miles and miles of classic ground, and visiting
castles, whose legends and tradions have given them an enduring fame,
our delighted travellers started for Geneva, bidding the picturesque
banks of the Rhine a regretful farewell. Being much interested in lit-
erature, and aware that Geneva was noted for having been the city of
refuge to the victims of religious and political persecution, Jerome ar-
ranged to stay here for some days. He was provided with a letter of
introduction to M. de Stee, who had been a fellow-soldier of Mr. Deve-
nant in the East India wars, and they were invited to make his house
their home during their sojourn. On the side of a noble mountain,
whose base is kissed by the waves of Lake Geneva, and whose slopes
are decked with verdure to the utmost peak of its rocky crown, is situ-
ated the delightful country-residence of this wealthy, retired French of
ficer. A winding road, with frequent climbs and brakes, leads from the
valley to this enchanting spot, the air and scenery of which cannot be
surpassed in the world.
CHAPTE R X x XIV.
CLOTELLE MEETS HER FATHER.
THE clouds that had skirted the sky during the day broke at last,
and the rain fell in torrents, as Jerome and Clotelle retired for the night,
in the little town of Ferney, on the borders of Lake Leman. The peals
of thunder, and flashes of vivid lightening, which seemed to leap from
mountain to mountain and from crag to crag, reverberating among the
surrounding hills, foretold a heavy storm.
“I would we were back at Geneva,” said Clotelle, as she heard groans
issuing from an adjoining room. The sounds, at first faint, grew louder


C. L. O. T E L L E. 103
“I married him,” said Clotelle, “because I loved him. Why should
the white man be esteemed as better than the black? I find no differ-
ence in men on account of their complexion. One of the cardinal prin-
ciples of Christianity and freedom is the equality and brotherhood of
man.”
Every day Mr. Linwood became more and more familiar with Jerome,
and eventually they were on the most intimate terms.
Fifteen days from the time that Clotelle was introduced into her
father's room, they left Ferney for Geneva. Many were the excursions
Clotelle made under the shadows of Mont Blanc, and with her husband
and father for companions; she was now in the enjoyment of pleasures
hitherto unknown.
C H A P T E R X X X V .
THE FATHER'S RESOLVE.
AwarE that her father was still a slave-owner, Clotelle determined to
use all her persuasive power to induce him to set them free, and in this
effort she found a substantial supporter in her husband.
“I have always treated my slaves well,” said Mr. Linwood to Jerome,
as the latter expressed his abhorrence of the system; “and my neigh-
bors, too, are generally good men; for slavery in Virginia is not like
slavery in the other States,” continued the proud son of the Old Do-
minion.
“Their right to be free, Mr. Linwood,” said Jerome, “is taken from
them, and they have no security for their comfort, but the humanity
and generosity of men, who have been trained to regard them not as
brethren, but as mere property. Humanity and generosity are, at best,
but poor guaranties for the protection of those who cannot assert
their rights, and over whom law throws no protection.”
It was with pleasure that Clotelle obtained from her father a promise
that he would liberate all his slaves on his return to Richmond. In a
beautiful little villa, situated in a pleasant spot, fringed with hoary rocks
and thick dark woods, within sight of the deep blue waters of Lake
Leman, Mr. Linwood, his daughter, and her husband, took up their resi-
dence for a short time. For more than three weeks, this little party
spent their time in visiting the birth-place of Rousseau, and the former
abodes of Byron, Gibbon, Voltaire, De Stael, Shelley, and other literary
characters. - -
We can scarcely contemplate a visit to a more historic and interesting
place than Geneva and its vicinity. Here, Calvin, that great luminary


C. L. O. T E L L E. 105
C H A P T E R X X XV I.
THE RETURN HOME. -
THE first gun fired at the American Flag, on the 12th of April, 1861, at
Fort Sumter, reverberated all over Europe, and was hailed with joy by
the crowned heads of the Old World, who hated republican institutions,
and who thought they saw, in this act of treason, the downfall of the great
American experiment. Most citizens, however, of the United States,
who were then sojourning abroad, hastened home to take part in the
struggle,—some to side with the rebels, others to take their stand with the
friends of liberty. Among the latter, none came with swifter steps or
more zeal than Jerome and Clotelle Fletcher. They arrived in New Or-
leans a week after the capture of that city by the expedition under the
command of Major-Gen. B. F. Butler. But how changed was society
since Clotelle had last set feet in the Crescent City! Twenty-two
years had passed; her own chequered life had been through many shift-
ing scenes; her old acquaintances in New Orleans had all disappeared;
and with the exception of the black faces which she beheld at every
turn, and which in her younger days were her associates, she felt her-
self in the midst of strangers; and these were arrayed against each
other in mortal combat. Possessed with ample means, Mr. and Mrs.
Fletcher set about the work of assisting those whom the rebellion had
placed in a state of starvation and sickness.
With a heart ove, flowing with the milk of human kindness, and a
tear for every sufferer, no matter of what color or sect, Clotelle was soon
known as the “Angel of Mercy.”
The “General Order No. 63,” issued on the 22d of August, 1862, by
Gen. Butler, recognizing, and calling into the service of the Federal
Government, the battalion of colored men known as the “Native
Guard,” at once gave full scope to Jerome's military enthusiasm; and
he made haste to enlist in the organization.
The “Native Guard” did good service in New Orleans and vicinity,
till ordered to take part in the seige of Port Hudson, where they ap-
peared under the name of the “First Louisiana,” and under the imme-
diate command of Lieut.-Col. Bassett. The heroic attack of this
regiment, made on the 27th of May, 1863, its unsurpassed “charge,”
its great loss, and its severe endurance on the field of battle, are inci-
dents which have passed into history. The noble daring of the First
Louisiana gained for the black soldiers in our army the praise of all
Americans who value Republican institutions.
There was, however, one scene, the closing one in the first day's
attack on Port Hudson, which, while it reflects undying credit upon


C. L. O. T E L L E . 109
“A storm am brewin’ in de Souf,
A storm am brewin' now. -
Oh! hearken den, and shut your mouf,
And I will tell you how:
And I will tell you how, ole boy,
De storm of fire will pour,
And make de darkies dance for joy,
As dey neber danced afore;
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And I will tell you how.
, “De darkies at de Norf am ris,
And dey am comin’ down –
Am comin’ down, I know dey is,
To do de white folks brown |
Dey'll turn ole Massa out to grass,
And set de niggas free,
And when dat day am come to pass
We’ll all be dar to see!
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And do de white folks brown!
“Den all de week will be as gay
As am de Chris'mas time;
We'll dance all night and all de day,
And make de banjo chime –
And make de banjo chime, I tink,
And pass de time away,
Wid’nuf to eat and nuf to drink,
And not a bit to pay!
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And make de banjo chime.”
How to escape from prison was ever the thoughts by day and dreams
by night of the incarcerated. Plans were concocted, partly put into
execution, and then proved failures. Some of these caused increased
suffering to the prisoners after their discovery; for, where the real par-
ties could not be found, the whole were ill-treated as a punishment to
the guilty. Tunnelling was generally the mode for escape; and tunnel-
ling became the order of the day, or, rather, the work for the night.
In the latter part of November, 1863, the unusual gaiety of the prisoners
showed that some plan of exit from the prison was soon to be exhibited. .


114 C. L. O. T E L L E .
-
“Yes, that was the place,” replied the former. “I see that your
husband has lost one of his hands: did he lose it in the war?”
“Oh no, missus,” said Dinah. “When dey was taken all de men,
black an white, to put in de army, dey cotched my ole man too, and
took him long wid'em. So you see, he said he'd die afore he'd shoot at
de Yanks. So you see, missus, Jimmy jes took and lay his left han’ on
a log, and chop it off wid de hatchet. Den, you see, dey let him go, an'
he come home. You see, missus, my Jimmy is a free man: he was
born free, an he bought me, an' pay fifteen hundred dollars for me.”
It was true that Jim had purchased his wife; nor had he forgotten
the fact, as was shown a day or two after, while in conversation with
her. The woman, like many of her sex, was an inveterate scold, and
Jim had but one way to govern her tongue. “Shet your mouf, madam,
an hole your tongue,” said Jim, after his wife had scolded and sput-
tered away for some minutes. “Shet your mouf dis minit, I say: you
shan't stan dar, an' talk terme in dat way. I bought you, an' paid my
money fer you, an I ain't a gwine ter let you sase me in dat way. Shet
your mouf dis minit: ef you don't I'll sell you; 'fore God I will. Shet
up, I say, or I'll sell you.” This had the desired effect, and settled
Dinah for the day.
After a week spent in this place of concealment, Jim conveyed Clo-
telle to Leaksville, Mississippi, through the Federal lines, and from
thence she proceeded to New Orleans.
The Rebellion was now drawing to a close. The valley of the Mis-
sissippi was in full possession of the Federal government. Sherman
was on his raid, and Grant was hemming in Lee. Everywhere the con-
dition of the freedmen attracted the attention of the friends of humanity,
and no one felt more keenly their wants than Clotelle; and to their edu-
cation and welfare she resolved to devote the remainder of her life, and
for this purpose went to the State of Mississippi, and opened a school
for the freedmen; hired teachers, paying them out of her own purse.
In the summer of 1866, the Poplar Farm, on which she had once lived
as a slave, was confiscated and sold by Government authority, and was
purchased by Clotelle, upon which she established a Freedmen's School,
and where at this writing, —now June, 1867,-resides the “Angel of
Mercy.”