Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada West — John Shaqi
Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada WestSteward, Austin
History
Twenty-Two Years a Slave, and Forty Years a Freeman: Embracing a Correspondence of Several Years, While President of Wilberforce Colony, London, Canada West
Who can imagine a position more painful? Oh, who, with feelings of common
humanity, could look quietly on such torture? Who could remain unmoved,
to see a fellow-creature thus tied, unable to move or to raise a hand in
his own defence; scourged on his bare back, with a cowhide, until the
blood flows in streams from his quivering flesh? And for what? Often for
the most trifling fault; and, as sometimes occurs, because a mere whim or
caprice of his brutal overseer demands it. Pale with passion, his eyes
flashing and his stalwart frame trembling with rage, like some volcano,
just ready to belch forth its fiery contents, and, in all its might and
fury, spread death and destruction all around, he continues to wield the
bloody lash on the broken flesh of the poor, pleading slave, until his
arm grows weary, or he sinks down, utterly exhausted, on the very spot
where already stand the pools of blood which his cruelty has drawn from
thee mangled body of his helpless victim, and within the hearing of those
agonized groans and feeble cries of "Oh do, Massa! Oh do, Massa! Do, Lord,
have mercy! Oh, Lord, have mercy!" &c.
Nor is this cruel punishment inflicted on the bare backs of the male
portion of slaves only. Oh no! The slave husband must submit without a
murmur, to see the form of his cherished, but wretched wife, not only
exposed to the rude gaze of a beastly tyrant, but he must unresistingly
see the heavy cowhide descend upon her shrinking flesh, and her manacled
limbs writhe in inexpressible torture, while her piteous cries for help
ring through his ears unanswered. The wild throbbing of his heart must be
suppressed, and his righteous indignation find no voice, in the presence
of the human monster who holds dominion over him.
After the infuriated and heartless overseer had satiated his thirst for
vengeance, on the disobedient or delinquent slave, he was untied, and left
to crawl away as best he could; sometimes on his hands and knees, to his
lonely and dilapidated cabin, where, stretched upon the cold earth, he lay
weak and bleeding and often faint from the loss of blood, without a
friend who dare administer to his necessities, and groaning in the agony
of his crushed spirit. In his cabin, which was not as good as many of our
stables at the North, he might lie for weeks before recovering sufficient
strength to resume the labor imposed upon him, and all this time without
a bed or bed clothing, or any of the necessaries considered so essential
to the sick.
Perhaps some of his fellow-slaves might come and bathe his wounds in warm
water, to prevent his clothing from tearing open his flesh anew, and thus
make the second suffering well nigh equal to the first; or they might
from their scanty store bring him such food as they could spare, to keep
him from suffering hunger, and offer their sympathy, and then drag their
own weary bodies to their place of rest, after their daily task was
finished.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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