Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Sunday, May 1, 1864

This P. M., Miss O. and myself accompanied Rev. E. P. Smith to listen to his "colored preaching," as he termed it, in the same church in which is the school for the colored children. It was a rare treat and the first colored audience I ever saw.

Do not imagine a squalid, ragged, filthy audience; but one where silks, ribbons, velvet, broadcloth, spotless linen and beavers predominated, with a sprinkling of beautifully carved or silver, and gold-headed canes, with about the usual proportion of fops to the canes that one may find in an audience of equal size, of our own color. Some of these persons are free and own property. But one would scarcely covet some of the ladies their silks and velvets, when she learns that it is purchased with the avails of extra labor at night after the day's work "for de missus is done."

But so it is. And although the church was built some years ago with their money, yet it was held in trust by white people because "negroes cannot own property."

I have been repeatedly told that I would turn pro-slavery when I came south and saw how things really were. I do not feel any of the first symptoms as yet, but quite the contrary. Instead, I'm getting to believe that the day when the Emancipation Document was sent forth, was that of which it is said "a nation shall be born in a day," and I'm learning to think that this gospel, which is

"Writ in burnished rows of steel,"

and read by

"The watch-fires of an hundred circling camps,"

is the "word" which "makes men free," and will forever strike the manacles from the oppressed bondsman.

One indignant white man, during the first prayer which was made by a negro preacher, and in which he asked for blessing upon the Union arms and freedom for slaves, left his seat and walked the whole length of the church, with heavy tread and with his hat on his head, while a voice called out,"Take your hat off!"

During the closing prayer the negro very properly prayed, "Oh Lord, wilt dou give de people good manners and teach 'em right behaviour wen dey come into de house ob de Lord!"

The sermon was the Bible-story of the death of James and the release of Peter from prison. It was told in a simple, earnest, impressive manner, to a deeply attentive, impressible audience. When he drew the picture of the angel entering the prison, and taking Peter away as easily as though "his chains were made of wax and a lighted candle was held beneath them, while the four quarternians—sixteen—soldiers were powerless to act," one old man laughed outright, a joyous, grateful laugh, others made their peculiar grunting noise which no combination of sounds will give exactly, while others shook hands and cried "Glory to God." During the singing some women had the "power” so that they passed round, embraced and shook hands.

Some joined the church, and the negro preacher told them he "hoped that wouldn't be the last of it, and that they'd be faithful and come to church;" but that some joined whom he "never could get a chance to set eyes on again, so that when they died he never could tell WHICH PLACE THEY'D GONE TO!"

I have forgotten to note in its proper place, that upon entering the church Miss O. and myself took seats in the only unoccupied pew in the body of the church. But Rev. Mr. S. beckoned us forward to a side seat by the pulpit. We took our seats there, but soon a neat, elderly negress came forward and said with a coaxing smile and voice, "Young ladies go up in de altar an' set-you doesn't want to set down here wid dese yere colored folks." We preferred remaining, and she urged the matter in vain. Soon an elderly mulatto man, probably a prominent member in the church, whose portly form was assisted in its waddles by a gold-headed cane, came forward and made the same request. But not being accustomed to the highest seat in the synagogue on account of our possessing a lighter color, we declined doing so until all the seats were filled and some must stand, when we did go; but upon others coming in they also were induced to take a seat in the altar.

During the sermon Mr. S. related an interesting personal experience. He said that a year ago last July he was in front of Vicksburg, in that dreadful fever region-the Yazoo bluffs. He felt the fever coming upon him-he knew something of its workings-he was two thousand miles from anybody he knew. He said he "had been talking to the boys, to the sick ones in the hospital, telling them that it didn't matter where they died if they only had Jesus with them, and he found that on his back, and on his blanket, had come the time to take some of his own medicine." He said he "tried to do so, but found it rather hard to take. He tried to think that it was just as well to be sick there and to die and be buried on the Yazoo bluffs, and never see his family again; but somehow he couldn't get in that frame of mind, but kept thinking he would much rather be at home. One morning, after he had burned and tossed with fever all night, Aunt Nancy came and drew back the folds of the tent and said: "Massa, how are you this morning-have you found the bright side?'

"Well no, Aunt Nancy, I haven't found any bright side.” "Well, Massa, I'se sorry you can't, for Aunt Nancy never get in such trouble but she can find the bright side.”

"Well, Nancy,” I said, “I guess you've never had any very great trouble—guess you don't know what it is.”

"Well,” said she with a sigh, “may be I don't know what trouble is, but my old man was sold away from me down in old Virginny and I never see him any more, and then my son, the staff of my old age, was sold way down in de rice fields, an' I never see him any more. No-maybe I don't know what trouble is, but after that my last little boy an' girl was sold away from me, an' I never see them any more-an' now I'm getting so old I'll never go back to ole Virginny any more!”

"Well, Aunt Nancy, that is trouble; but tell me how you managed to find the bright side.'

"Well, Massa,” she said, “when I see the storm coming, and the clouds are thick and get black and blacker, then I just go 'round the other side of the cloud where Jesus is!'

"Then I turned over in my bed, with my face to the back of the tent, and said:

"Come now fever, death and burial upon the Yazoo bluffs, if God wills, I am ready!"

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 66-9

Sale Of Negroes — published June 4, 1856

A negro named Sawney, belonging to Constable Butler was sold yesterday by Messrs. Pulliam and Davis for the sun of $580. He is one of those whom “Red Boot” Smith boxed up some years ago for exportation to a free state, and for which exploit that individual is no serving out his term of punishment in the penitentiary of Virginia. Sawney, we understand, goes to Atlanta, Ga. Messrs. Pulliam and Davis, a short time since, sold seventeen negroes, including two or three youths, for $14,155.

SOURCE: Richmond Daily Whig, Richmond Virginia, Wednesday Morning, June 4, 1856, p. 3

Thomas Garrett to William Still, June 9, 1857

WILMINGTON, 6 mo., 9th, 1857.

ESTEEMED FRIEND — WILLIAM STILL: — We have here in this place, at Comegys Munson’s an old colored woman, the mother of twelve children, one half of which has been sold South. She has been so ill used, that she was compelled to leave husband and children behind, and is desirous of getting to a. brother who lives at Buffalo. She was nearly naked. She called at my house on 7th day night, but being from home, did not see her till last evening. I have procured her two under garments, one new; two skirts, one new; a good frock with cape; one of my wife’s bonnets and stockings, and gave her five dollars in gold, which, if properly used, will put her pretty well on the way. I also gave her a letter to thee. Since I gave them to her she has concluded to stay where she is till 7th day night, when Comegys Munson says he can leave his work and will go with her to thy house. I write this so that thee may be prepared for them; they ought to arrive between 11 and 12 o’clock. Perhaps thee may find some fugitive that will be willing to accompany her. With desire for thy welfare and the cause of the oppressed,

I remain thy friend,

THOS. GARRETT.

SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 394-5

N. Coryell to William Still, January 2, 1857

HAVANA, J an. 2, 1857.

DEAR SIR: — Your favor containing draft on N. York, for Daniel Robertson, came to hand on the 31st ult. Daniel begs to tender his acknowledgments for your kind interest manifested in his behalf, and says he hopes you will leave no measure untried which has any appearance of success, and that the money shall be forthcoming at a moment’s notice. Daniel thinks that since Christmas, the chances for his wife's deliverance are fewer than before, for at that time he fears she was disposed of and possibly went South.

The paper sent me, with your well-written article, was received, and on reading it to Daniel, he knew some of the parties mentioned in it — he was much pleased to hear it read. Daniel spent New Year’s in Elmira, about 18 miles from this place, and there he met two whom he was well acquainted with.

Yours, &c.,

N. CORYELL.

WM. STILL, Esq., Phila.

SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 331

Watson Brown to Isabel Thompson Brown, between September & October 16, 1859

We have only two black men with us now; one of these has a wife and seven children in slavery. I sometimes feel as though I could not make the sacrifice; but what would I want others to do, were I in their place? . . . Oh, Bell, I do want to see you and the little fellow [the young babe born in the father's absence] very much, but I must wait. There was a slave near here whose wife was sold off South the other day, and he was found in Thomas Kennedy's orchard, dead, the next morning. Cannot come home so long as such things are done here. . . . I sometimes think perhaps we shall not meet again. If we should not, you have an object to live for, — to be a mother to our little Fred. He is not quite a reality to me yet. We leave here this afternoon or to-morrow for the last time. You will probably hear from us very soon after getting this, if not before. We are all eager for the work, and confident of success. There was another murder committed near our place the other day, making in all five murders and one suicide within five miles of our place since we have lived there; they were all slaves, too. . . . Give my regards to all the friends, and keep up good courage: there is a better day a-coming. I can but commend you to yourself and your friends if I should never see you again. Believe me yours wholly and forever in love.

Your husband,

Watson Brown.¹

_______________

¹ Watson was just twenty-four, and had been married for three years to Isabel Thompson, whose brothers William and Dauphin Thompson, like her husband and brother-in-law, were killed at Harper's Ferry.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 549

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Friday, January 3, 1862

Last evening threatened snow but too cold. Today cold and dry. P. M. 4 o'clock began to rain; may rain for a month now.

Charles, an honest-looking contraband — six feet high, stout-built, thirty-six years old, wife sold South five years ago,— came in today from Union, Monroe County. He gives me such items as the following: Footing boots $9 to $10. New boots $18 to $20. Shoes $4 to $4.50. Sugar 25 to 30 [cents a pound], coffee 62½ , tea $1.50, soda 62½, pepper 75, bleached domestic 40 to 50 [cents a yard.] Alex Clark [his master], farmer near Union (east of it), Monroe County, one hundred and fifty (?) miles from Fayetteville — fifty miles beyond (?) Newbern. Started Saturday eve at 8 P. M., reached Raleigh next Monday night; crossed New River at Packs Ferry. (Packs a Union man.)

Companies broken up in Rebel army by furloughs, discharges, and sickness. Rich men's sons get discharges. Patrols put out to keep slaves at home. They tell slaves that the Yankees cut off arms of some negroes to make them worthless and sell the rest in Cuba for twenty-five hundred dollars each to pay cost of war. “No Northern gentlemen fight — only factory men thrown out of employ.” They (the negroes) will fight for the North if they find the Northerners are such as they think them.

Union is a larger and much finer town than Fayetteville. William Erskine, keeper of Salt Sulphur Springs, don't let Rebels stay in his houses. Suspected to be a Union man. Lewisburg three times as large as Fayetteville. Some Fayetteville people there. People in Greenbrier [County] don't want to fight any more.

General Augustus Chapman the leading military man in Monroe. Allen T. Capelton, the other mem[ber] of Legislature, Union man, had his property taken by them. Named Joshua Seward, farmer. Henry Woolwine, ditto, for Union, farmer, [living] near Union — three and three and one-half miles off. Dr. Ballard a good Union man (storekeeper) on the road from Giles to Union, twelve miles from Peterstown, also robbed by Floyd. Wm. Ballard and a large connection, all Union men — all in Monroe. Oliver Burns and Andrew Burns contributed largely to the Rebels. John Eckles in Union has a fine brick house — a Rebel colonel. Rebels from towards Lynchburg and Richmond would come by way of Covington, forty-five miles from Union. Landlords of principal hotel Rebels — one at Manassas. Two large, three-story high-school buildings, opposite sides of the street, on the hill this end of town. “Knobs,” or “Calder's Peak,” three miles from town. A hilly country, but more cleared and better houses than about Fayetteville.

They “press” poor folks' horses and teams not the rich folks'. Poor folks grumble at being compelled to act as patrols to keep rich men's negroes from running off. “When I came with my party, eleven of us, in sight of your pickets, I hardly knew what to do. If you were such people as they had told us, we would suffer. Some of the party turned to run. A man with a gun called out halt. I saw through the fence three more with guns. They asked, ‘Who comes there?’ I called out ‘Friends.’ The soldier had his gun raised; he dropped it and said: ‘Boys, these are some more of our colored friends,’ and told us to ‘come on, not to be afraid,’ that we were safe. Oh, I never felt so in my life. I could cry, I was so full of joy. And I found them and the major (Comly) and all I have seen so friendly — such perfect gentlemen, just as we hoped you were, but not as they told us you were.”

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 175-7