Scenes in the Life of Harriet Tubman
proceeded to Commissioner Beach's office, and served it on Holmes. Very
injudiciously, the officers proceeded at once to Judge Gould's office,
although it was evident they would have to pass through an excited,
unreasonable crowd. As soon as the officers and their prisoner emerged
from the door, an old negro, who had been standing at the bottom of the
stairs, shouted, "Here they come," and the crowd made a terrific rush at
the party.
From the office of Commissioner Beach, in the Mutual Building, to that
of Judge Gould, in Congress Street, is less than two blocks, but it was
made a regular battle-field. The moment the prisoner emerged from the
doorway, in custody of Deputy-Sheriff Upham, Chief of Police Quin,
Officers Cleveland and Holmes, the crowd made one grand charge, and
those nearest the prisoner seized him violently, with the intention of
pulling him away from the officers, but they were foiled; and down First
to Congress Street, and up the latter in front of Judge Gould's
chambers, went the surging mass. Exactly what did go on in the crowd, it
is impossible to say, but the pulling, hauling, mauling, and shouting,
gave evidences of frantic efforts on the part of the rescuers, and a
stern resistance from the conservators of the law. In front of Judge
Gould's office the combat was at its height. No stones or other missiles
were used; the battle was fist to fist. We believe an order was given to
take the prisoner the other way, and there was a grand rush towards the
West, past First and River Streets, as far as Dock Street. All this time
there was a continual melee. Many of the officers were hurt--among them
Mr. Upham, whose object was solely to do his duty by taking Nalle before
Judge Gould in accordance with the writ of habeas corpus. A number in
the crowd were more or less hurt, and it is a wonder that these were not
badly injured, as pistols were drawn and chisels used.
The battle had raged as far as the corner of Dock and Congress Streets,
and the victory remained with the rescuers at last. The officers were
completely worn out with their exertions, and it was impossible to
continue their hold upon him any longer. Nalle was at liberty. His
friends rushed him down Dock Street to the lower ferry, where there was
a skiff lying ready to start. The fugitive was put in, the ferryman
rowed off, and amid the shouts of hundreds who lined the banks of the
river, Nalle was carried into Albany County.
As the skiff landed in West Troy, a negro sympathizer waded up to the
waist, and pulled Nalle out of the boat. He went up the hill alone,
however, and there who should he meet but Constable Becker? The latter
official seeing a man with manacles on, considered it his duty to arrest
him. He did so, and took him in a wagon to the office of Justice
Stewart, on the second floor of the corner building near the ferry. The
Justice was absent.
When the crowd on the Troy bank had seen Nalle safely landed, it was
suggested that he might be recaptured. Then there was another rush made
for the steam ferry-boat, which carried over about 400 persons, and left
as many more--a few of the latter being soused in their efforts to get
on the boat. On landing in West Troy, there, sure enough, was the
prisoner, locked up in a strong office, protected by Officers Becker,
Brown and Morrison, and the door barricaded.
Not a moment was lost. Up stairs went a score or more of resolute
men--the rest "piling in" promiscuously, shouting and execrating the
officers. Soon a stone flew against the door--then another--and bang,
bang! went off a couple of pistols, but the officers who fired them took
good care to aim pretty high. The assailants were forced to retreat for
a moment. "They've got pistols," said one. "Who cares?" was the reply;
"they can only kill a dozen of us--come on." More stones and more
pistol-shots ensued. At last the door was pulled open by an immense
negro, and in a moment he was felled by a hatchet in the hands of
Deputy-Sheriff Morrison; but the body of the fallen man blocked up the
door so that it could not be shut, and a friend of the prisoner pulled
him out. Poor fellow! he might well say, "Save me from my friends."
Amid the pulling and hauling, the iron had cut his arms, which were
bleeding profusely, and he could hardly walk, owing to fatigue.
He has since arrived safely in Canada.
Statements made by Martin I. Townsend, Esq., of Troy, who was
counsel for the fugitive, Charles Nalle.
Nalle is an octoroon; his wife has the same infusion of Caucasian blood.
She was the daughter of her master, and had, with her sister, been bred
by him in his family, as his own child. When the father died, both of
these daughters were married and had large families of children. Under
the highly Christian national laws "Old Virginny," these children were
the slaves of their grandfather. The old man died, leaving a will,
whereby he manumitted his daughters and their children, and provided for
the purchase of the freedom of their husbands. The manumission of the
children and grandchildren took effect; but the estate was insufficient
to purchase the husbands of his daughters, and the father of his
grandchildren. The manumitted, by another Christian, "conservative,"
and "national" provision of law, were forced to leave the State, while
the slave husbands remained in slavery. Nalle and his brother-in-law
were allowed for a while to visit their families outside Virginia about
once a year, but were at length ordered to provide themselves with new
wives, as they would be allowed to visit their former ones no more. It
was after this that Nalle and his brother-in-law started for the land of
freedom, guided by the steady light of the north star. Thank God,
neither family now need fear any earthly master or the bay of the
blood-hound dogging their fugitive steps.
Nalle returned to Troy with his family about July, 1860, and resided
with them there for more than seven years. They are all now residents of
the city of Washington, D. C. Nalle and his family are persons of
refined manners, and of the highest respectability. Several of his
children are red-haired, and a stranger would discover no trace of
African blood in their complexions or features. It was the head of this
family whom H. F. Averill proposed to doom to returnless exile and
life-long slavery.
When Nalle was brought from Commissioner Beach's office into the street,
Harriet Tubman, who had been standing with the excited crowd, rushed
amongst the foremost to Nalle, and running one of her arms around his
manacled arm, held on to him without ever loosening her hold through the
more than half-hour's struggle to Judge Gould's office, and from Judge
Gould's office to the dock, where Nalle's liberation was accomplished.
In the melee, she was repeatedly beaten over the head with policemen's
clubs, but she never for a moment released her hold, but cheered Nalle
and his friends with her voice, and struggled with the officers until
they were literally worn out with their exertions, and Nalle was
separated from them.
True, she had strong and earnest helpers in her struggle, some of whom
had white faces as well as human hearts, and are now in Heaven. But she
exposed herself to the fury of the sympathizers with slavery, without
fear, and suffered their blows without flinching. Harriet crossed the
river with the crowd, in the ferry-boat, and when the men who led the
assault upon the door of Judge Stewart's office, were stricken down,
Harriet and a number of other colored women rushed over their bodies,
brought Nalle out, and putting him in the first wagon passing, started
him for the West.
A livery team, driven by a colored man, was immediately sent on to
relieve the other, and Nalle was seen about Troy no more until he
returned a free man by purchase from his master. Harriet also
disappeared, and the crowd dispersed. How she came to be in Troy that
day, is entirely unknown to our citizens; and where she hid herself
after the rescue, is equally a mystery. But her struggle was in the
sight of a thousand, perhaps of five thousand spectators.
This woman of whom you have been reading is poor, and partially disabled
from her injuries; yet she supports cheerfully and uncomplainingly
herself and her old parents, and always has several poor children in her
house, who are dependent entirely upon her exertions. At present she has
three of these children for whom she is providing, while their parents
are working to pay back money borrowed to bring them on. She also
maintains by her exertions among the good people of Auburn, two schools
of freedmen at the South, providing them teachers and sending them
clothes and books. She never asks for anything for herself, but she does
ask the charity of the public for "her people."
For them her tears will fall,
For them her prayers ascend;
To them her toils and cares be given,
Till toils and cares will end.
If any persons are disposed to aid her in her benevolent efforts, they
may send donations to Rev. S. M. Hopkins, Professor in the Auburn
Theological Seminary, who will make such disposition of the funds sent
as may be designated by the donors.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] The Wabash
APPENDIX.
A few circumstances having come out in conversation with Harriet, they
are added here, as they may be of interest to the reader.
On asking Harriet particularly as to the age of her mother, she
answered, "Well, I'll tell you, Missis. Twenty-three years ago, in
Maryland, I paid a lawyer $5 to look up the will of my mother's first
master. He looked back sixty years, and said it was time to give up. I
told him to go back furder. He went back sixty-five years, and there he
found the will--giving the girl Ritty to his grand-daughter (Mary
Patterson), to serve her and her offspring till she was forty-five years
of age. This grand-daughter died soon after, unmarried; and as there was
no provision for Ritty, in case of her death, she was actually
emancipated at that time. But no one informed her of the fact, and she
and her dear children remained in bondage till emancipated by the
courage and determination of this heroic daughter and sister. The old
woman must then, it seems, be ninety-eight years of age, and the old man
has probably numbered as many years. And yet these old people, living
out beyond the toll-gate, on the South Street road, Auburn, come in
every Sunday--more than a mile--to the Central Church. To be sure, deep
slumbers settle down upon them as soon as they are seated, which
continue undisturbed till the congregation is dismissed; but they have
done their best, and who can doubt that they receive a blessing.
Immediately after this they go to class-meeting at the Methodist Church.
Then they wait for a third service, and after that start out home
again."
On asking Harriet where they got anything to eat on Sunday, she said, in
her quiet way, "Oh! de ole folks nebber eats anyting on _Sunday_,
Missis! We nebber has no food to get for dem on Sunday. Dey always
fasts; and dey nebber eats anyting on Fridays. Good Friday, an' five
Fridays hand gwine from Good Friday, my fader nebber eats or drinks, all
day--fasting for de five bleeding wounds ob Jesus. All the oder Fridays
ob de year he nebber eats till de sun goes down; den he takes a little
tea an' a piece ob bread." "But is he a Roman Catholic, Harriet?" "Oh
no, Misses; he does it for _conscience;_ we was taught to do so down
South. He says if he denies himself for the sufferings of his Lord an'
Master, Jesus will sustain him."
It has been mentioned that Harriet never asks anything for herself, but
whenever her people were in trouble, or she felt impelled to go South to