S. J. T. to Frederick Douglass, January 15, 1856

INTERESTING NARRATIVE.

For Frederick Douglass' Paper.

THE WEEMS FAMILY

MR. DOUGLASS:—A fugitive slave has lately been among us, and the circumstances of the case were so interesting; and so well calculated to awaken sympathy for our countrymen who are in bonds, that we thought the narrative would be pleasing to you, and to the readers of of your valuable paper—should you see fit to give it a place.

Nearly twenty years ago, a respectable colored freeman, named John Weems, residing in Rockville, Maryland, married a slave-woman, of superior culture and endowments. In process of time, they had a family of seven children—three daughters, and four sons. The wife and mother, was permitted to live with and for her own family, on condition of her husband's paying to her master an annual sum for her services. Thus, for many years, they lived very happily.

Mrs. Weems had a brother, whom we shall call Brown, who with his wife, belonged to the same man. In 1849, or '50, Brown and his wife, with Mary Jane, (or Stella, as she has since been called,) the eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Weems, made their escape. They first went to the city of New York, and finally settled in Geneva, N. Y. Rev. Henry H. Garnett, then pastor of the colored church in that village, became acquainted with them, and took Stella into his family. Soon after, Mr. Garnett went to Scotland, where he had been invited to deliver a course of lectures. Subsequently, he sent for his family, and Stella accompanied them, as a companion for Mrs. Garnett. she afterwards went with them to Jamaica, W. I., where they now reside.

When the Fugitive Slave Bill was passed, in 1850, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, in common with a large number of free people of color, at the North, were alarmed for their safety, and felt obliged to flee into Canada. Here their wanderings ended; they now had an asylum, where the oppressor could not reach them. Being industrious, and energetic, they soon succeeded in securing the necessaries and comforts of life in their new home. Still they were in a strange land; the "sunny south" looked far pleasanter to them than the cold and dreary region, where their lot was not cast. Nothing but the dread of slavery could reconcile them to the change. They felt very keenly the separation from all their relatives and friends,—and it was not the separation only, but the dreadful knowledge—ever before their minds—that most of these beloved friends were in cruel bondage. They knew how to feel for them, as only those can, who have themselves been slaves. They could remember them who are in bonds, as bound with them.

They longed to hear that some of these dear friends had escaped. How gladly would they welcome them to share in their humberl home, and in the fruits of their industry. They sent once and again, an earnest requrest, that Ann Maria, Weems' youngest daughter, might be brought to them. When they heard that their old master was dead, they trembled, as well they might, for their sister and her children.—They knew, that notwithstanding the husband and father was a free man, his wife and children would now be taken from him, divided amongst the heirs, and probably dispersed to distant places.

Leaving these affectionate relatives to week and pray over the perils of those so dear to them, we will not return to Maryland, and imagine, if we can, the feelings of John Weems, in the immediate prospect of having his whole family taken away from him, separated from one another, and dispersed among the heirs of their master. O, reader, make it your own case! You are the father, or the mother, or the member of a family, which has always been united and happy. None of you have committed any thing worthy of bonds or imprisonment; yet, all at once, word comes that youare to be separated, and scattered widely perhaps where you may never see each other again! How would you feel? It is only by thus making the case your own, that you can feel for them as you ought.

Perhaps you will say, "slaves cannot be supposed to feel these separations so keenly as we should, for its what they always expect will happen sooner or later." They do, indeed, expect this, and that portion of their lives, which might be comparatively happy, is constantly embittered by the thought, that, at the decease of their master, or in case of his becoming involved in debt, they will be sold and separated. In many cases, they have kind masters, and (with the slight exception of being deprived of liberty and knowledge,) are treated comparatively well, and are comparatively happy; yet there is always this terrible liability hanging over their heads. But would the fact of our having expected such a calamity, do much to lessen its weight when it came?

Some people shut up their compassion from their fellow-men in bondage, thinking that, as they have always been slaves, they have got used to it, and do not feel these things much.—It is true that slavery is degrading, and well calculated to destroy all finer feelings of our nature. In many cases, no doubt, it does stupify and harden its unfortunate victims; but the thrilling narratives, which the anti-slavery press is from time to time bringing out, show that in spite of all the oppressive influences brought to bear upon them, there are many slaves, who think earnestly and feel keenly. After obtaining their own liberty, what risks they take, what toilsome journies they perform, what sacrifices they make, to rescue their relatives and friends! Moreover, there are multitudes who sigh for liberty, and might obtain it, who yet remain in the house of bondage, rather than leave those they love. What stronger proof of affection than this, could any one possibly give?

The decease of his wife's master threw John Weems into great distress; for he saw what must come! Wife, children, all that was dearest to him in the world—must now be taken from him! Though he, himself, had always been a freeman, yet his children were claimed as the property of those who owned his wife.—"The children must follow the condition of the mother;" this is the law throughout the slave States—if the sacred name of law can be properly applied to a wicked enactment.

In this emergency Weems thought of his brother and sister, Brown, and his daughter, Stella, and supposed them to be in New York, resolved to go there and engage their co-operation in the attempt he proposed making, to raise the sum, which the heirs of his wife's master had said they were willing to take for her, and her children. He did not know, until he reached New York, that his brother had been driven to Canada, by the Fugitive Slave Bill and his daughter to England! Though disappointed in the objects of his search, he found some benevolent individuals, who sympathized with him deeply, and were anxious to do something for him. He then went back to see how matters were going with his family. He found, that, during his absence, they all had been sold to a slave-trader, and were actually in a slave pen at Washington!

The slave-trader, adding his profits to the sum which the heirs agreed to take of Weems, demanded $3,300. This sum so far exceeded all that he had any expectation of raising, that he attempted only to negotiate for the redemption of his wife, and youngest child. The slave-trader agreed to take $500 for them. Weems then went a second time to New York, to endeavor to raise the money; having received a permit from the authorities in Rockville, allowing him to return, if not absent beyond thirty days. The laws of Maryland do not suffer a free colored man to go away and return without a permit!

Not finding the friend in New York, from whom he expected advice and assistance, he proceeded to Boston in quest of him. His friend was not there either, and he returned to New York. But Providence raised up another friend; Rev. Charles B. Ray, a colored preacher of New York, who did him good service. He told him of Mr. Garnett's popularity in Scotland, and that he probably could raise money there for him, and he offered to write Mr. Garnett a statement of the case. He then advised Weems to go back to Maryland and get his permit renewed, and return to New York. Mr. Ray wrote to Mr. Garnett, and laid this truly interesting case fully before him.

Weems returned to Washington, and arrived just in time to take leave of his wife and children! They were about to go from the slave pen, with a gang of slaves, to the southern market. He begged the slave-trader to leave his wife and youngest child, and give him an opportunity to raise the money for their ransom; but in vain! After all his efforts, he must see them go. With a breaking heart he bids them farewell, enjoining upon his wife, in their last interview, that if taken to a distance, she will make the place of her slavery known to him.—He returns to his house, now left unto him desolate! What had this man done, that he should be separated from his wife and children? Here was a peacable, unoffending, industrious citizen, who had always supported his family in comfort and respectability, besides paying every year a large sum to the master of his wife, as an equivalent for her services. Now these beloved ones, for whom he had so cheerily lived and labored, are suddenly torn from him—to be carried he knows not whither—and to suffer all the miseries of Southern bondage. Could there by an greater outrage on humanity?—Can any human enactment give even a color of justice to such a proceeding?

After several months had passed, Mr. Ray received a letter from Mr. Garnett, stating that he had published a pamphlet in Scotland, containing the facts in the case, and an appeal to the benevolent, to contribute for the redemption of the Weems family. This appeal was circulated in England also, and excited much interest there. One family, residing at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, well known for their philanthropy and generous sympathy with the oppressed were particularly active in this matter, and it was owing in great measure to their exertions that a generous sum was raised. When the money was received from Scotland and England, Weems' friends lost no time in communicating to him the good news. He sent back word, that he had heard from his wife and children, and they were in Montgomery, Alabama; except Catharine and Ann Maria, who had been sold to a slave-trader in Maryland, by the name of Price.

A gentleman, whom we shall call William Penn, while on his way to redeem the members of an enslaved family for Mrs. Harriet B. Stowe, met Mrs. Weems and her children in a drove, on their way to Alabama. he had known Weems as a worthy and industrious man, and his sympathies were strongly aroused on his behalf, and that of his family. Writing to a friend afterwards, he says, "I was easily committed to do all I could for them." The friends in New York were glad to avail themselves of his services, and he proceeded, as soon as possible, to negotiate the purchase of Mrs. Weems and two of the boys. They were brought back and restored to the husband and father. After this the family took up their residence in Washington city. The same gentleman negotiated for the freedom of Catharine, the second daughter, for whose ransom $1000 were paid. She went into the service of a respectable liberty-loving man, in the District of Columbia, where she is now living free and happy. The other two boys had been carried to a distant part of Alabama, and they have not yet been found.—The slave-trader at first demanded $5000 for the family, (Catharine, and Ann Maria excepted;) he then asked $2000 for the mother and two little boys, saying if it were not paid immediately, the slaves would change hands, and a large sum be required; finally, he agreed to take $1675. This sum was paid him.

Some time after, negotiations were entered into for the redemption of the third daughter, Ann Maria, who was living at Rockville, in the family of her master. Four persons were employed, at different times, but they all failed.—$700 were offered for her—she being at that time about thirteen years old—but Price demanded $1000. It was not thought best to offer so much, especially as it was feared the slave-trader would be rising in his demands.—She was kindly treated, and indeed was a sort of pet in Price's family, but all the while she was closely watched, and her desire for freedom continually increased. A year or more was spent in fruitless negotiations; and despairing of obtaining the poor girl on any other terms, her unknown friends began to entertain the idea of getting her for nothing—or rather of aiding her to take possession of herself.

Meanwhile, what were the feelings of this once happy, but now broken and scattered family! Only one, out of their seven children, was with the parents. The eldest daughter was free, but living in the West Indies—driven off by the Fugitive Slave Bill; the youngest at a distance, in the hand of a slave-trader, and two boys in slavery, far away—they knew not where. One of the little boys who had been ransomed, died soon after their return from Alabama.—Hard as it must have been to lay this little one in the grave, the bereaved parents had far less cause to weep for him, than for his brothers in bondage; for they could feel that he was gone, "Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, where the prisoners rest together, and hear not the voice of the oppressor; the small and great are there; and the servant is freem from his master."

On the 25th of September, 1855, the following advertisement appeared in the Baltimore Sun.

"$500 REWARD.—Ran away, on Sunday night, the 30th inst., before twelve o'clock from the subscriber, residing at Rockville, Montgomery County, Maryland, my NEGRO GIRL, Ann Maria Weems, about fifteen years of age; a birght mulatto; some small freckles on her face; slender person, thick suit of hair, inclined to be sandy.—Her parents are free, and reside in Washington, D. C. It is evident that she was taken away by some one in a carriage, probably by a white man, by whom she may be carried beyond the limits of the State of Maryland.

"I will give the above reward for her apprehension and detention, so that I get her back."

"C. M. PRICE."

So large a reward made it necessary for the distant friends of the young fugitive girl to proceed with caution. The person who had undertaken to bring Ann Maria away, procured for her a suit of boy's clothes, and thus disguised after leaving her master's house, she was secreted in a town not very far distant, for more than two months. All this time we were in uncertainty as to her fate; dreading lest we should hear, that she had been caught and carried back into the house of bondage. At length word came, that she was on her way, and might be expected here the next day. In the evening, (Nov. 28th,) being the eve of Thanksgiving Day, a friend arrived, bringing with him a bright handsome boy, whom he called Joe. Most heartily was "Joe" welcomed. We were very glad to see him, but took good care that he should not be seen by others! „hile teh family were in the parlor, with their guests, partaking of the bounties of Providence, Joe was safely locked up on the attic eating his portion of the turkey and plum pudding. It was his first Thanksgiving dinner in a free State.

As he brough nothing away with him, and had only the suit of clothes which he wore, it was necessary, next day, to procure a complete wardrobe of another sort. The third day after Joe's arrival, a gentleman was found, (Rev. Mr. F., a colored minister of this city,) who was willing to accompany him to Uncle Brown's, in Canada West. The following is part of a letter from Mr. F., giving an account of their journey. After stating that they left New York in the cars, at five o'clock, P. M., and through the providence of God, went on their way safely and speedily, with none to molest, or make them afraid, he says:

"On reaching Rochester, I began to ask myself, 'How shall we get over Niagara Falls?' I was not sure that the cars ran across the Suspensions Bridge; besides, I felt that we were in more danger here, than we had been at any other place. Knowing that there was a large reward offered for Joe's apprehension, I feared there might be some lurking spy, ready to pounce upon us. But when we arrived at the Bridge, the conductor said, 'Sit still; this car goes across!' You may judge of my joy and relief of mind, when I looked out, and was sure that we were over! 'Thank God,' I exclaimed, 'we are safe in Canada!'

"Having now a few minutes before the cars would start again, I sat down, and hastily wrote a few lines, to inform friends at home of our safe arrival. As soon as possible, I ran to the Post Office with my letter, paid the postage, and while I was waiting for my change, the car-bell rang; I quickly returned, entered the cars, and in a few minutes were were on our way to Chatham, (200 miles west,) which place we reached between seven and eight o'clock, Saturday evening. When we got out, we met a gentleman, who asked me if I wanted a boarding house. I said, yes; and he invited me to go with him. I asked him if there was any way for us to get to D. that night. He answered, 'No, it is a dark night, and a muddy road, and no conveyance can be got to-night.' I soon found that our only alternative was to stay with him, and make Chatham our home to Monday morning.

"On our way to the boarding house, the gentleman said to me, 'Is this your son with you?' I answered 'No;' and then I asked him if he knew a man living in D., by the name of Brown; I said, 'this is a relation of his.' He replied that he was very well acquainted with him, and then enquired if that young man was Mr. Brown's brother. I said, 'No—not exactly a brother. He must have thought it strange, that I did not give a more definite answer to his questions.

"When we reached the house, we found several boarders in the sitting room, and some few neighbors. I had already told him my name, but with regard to Joe, I had not yet had a chance to explain. I, of course, was introduced to those in the room, but Joe—well, Joe took a seat, and did not seem to be troubled bout an introduction. As the landlord was going out of the room, I asked permission to speak with him alone. He took me into another room, and I said to him, 'That young man, as you call him, is a female, and has come dressed in this manner, all the way from Washington city. I should like now to have her change her clothes.'

"He was greatly surprised, and would hardly believe that it was so; but said, 'I will call my wife.' She came, and I guess all the females about the house came with her. They soon disappeared, and Joe disappeared with them, who, after being absent awhile, returned, and was introduced as Miss Ann Maria Weems! The whole company were upon their feet—shook hands, laughed, and rejoiced; declaring this beat all that they had ever seen before! We all sat and talked for some time, and then retired. Chatham contains, I was told, more than 3000 fugitives. The weather there is not colder than in New York.

"The next monring was the Sabbath; but this I must pass, and hasten to D., the residence of Mr. Brown. We started early Monday morning. As a part of the road was very bad, we did not reach there till a late hour. As we were passing along, and getting near to the place, we met two colored men, who were talking together,—one on horseback, and the other on foot. I enquired of them if they could tell me how far it was to Mr. Brown's. The man on horseback said it was about a mile further, and then proceeded to give directions. After he had done this, he said, 'I reckon I am the one that you want to find—my name is Brown—'Well,' I replied, 'probably you are the man.' Just then, Ann Maria turned her head around. As soon as he saw her face, he exclaimed, 'My Lord! Maria, is that you? Is that you? My child, is it you! we never expeced to see you again! We had given you up. O, what will your Aunt say? She will die! It will kill her!'

"I told him that as I was obliged to leave again soon, I must proceed. 'Well,' said he, 'you go on,—I am just going over to M., and will be back in a few minutes. ' We started on for his house, and he towards M.; but had gone only a short distance, when I looked round, and found him close behind coming after us. As he came up, exclaimed, 'I can't go to M.!—and began talking to Ann Maria, asking her about all her friends whom they had left behind—about Uncles and Aunts—about his old master, and his wife's master—from whom they had run away, four years before.

"As we approached the house, he said, 'I will go and open the gate, and have a good fire to warm you.' When he came up to the gate, he met his wife, who was returning from a stored, or a neighbor's house [illegible] her, 'that's Ann Maria coming yonder!' She stopped until we came up to the gate—the tears were rolling from her eyes, and she exclaimed, 'Ann Maria, is it you? O, Ann Maria!' The girl leaped from the wagon, and they fell upon each otehr's necks, weeping and rejoicing. Such a scene I never before witnessed. She who had been given up as lost, was now found! She who but a short time before had been, as they supposed a slave for life, was free!

"We soon entered the house, and after the first gush of feeling had somewhat subsided, they both began a general enquiry about the friends they had left behind. But ever now and then the Aunt would break out, 'My child, you are here! Thank God, you are free! We were talking about you to-day, and saying we should never see you again,—and now, here you are with us!'

"I remained about an hour and a half with them, took dinner, and then started for home, rejoicing that I had been to a land where colored men are free.

"This Mr. Brown, who ran away with himself and wife, about four years ago, from the land of whips and chains, is the owner of two farms, and is said to be worth three thousand dollars. Can slaves take care of themselves?"

You may well suppose that the receipt of such a letter gave us great pleasure, and called forth heartfelt thanksgiving to Him, who had watched over this undertaking, and protected all concerned in it. A bright and promising girl has been resuced from the untold miseries of a slave-woman's lot, and has found a good home, where she will have the opportunity to acquire an educaiton, and be trained for a useful and happy life. Mr. Brown intends to send for her parents, and hopes to prevail on thm to come and live with him.

The home which Ann Maria could not find in her own land, she has found in the dominions of the Queen of England. The United States boast that all men are created free and equal, but England carries the doctrine into full practice. It may be said by Canadians, as well as by the inhabitants of the mother country:

"Slaves cannot breath in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment thy are free; They touch our country, and their shackles fall."

And it shall be said, once and again, not be Britons alone, but by the descendants of Britons, wherever they dwell:

"That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, And let it circulate through ev'ry vein Of all your empire; that, where Briton's power Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too."

S. J. T.

Brooklyn, N. Y., Jan. 15, 1856.