The Underground Railroad
For the last thirty years, as an able business man, it has been very
generally admitted, that he hardly had a superior.
Although an unassuming man, deeply engrossed with business--Anti-slavery
papers, conventions, and public movements having for their aim the
elevation of the colored man, have always commanded Mr. Whipper's
interest and patronage. In the more important conventions which have
been held amongst the colored people for the last thirty years, perhaps
no other colored man has been so often called on to draft resolutions
and prepare addresses, as the modest and earnest William Whipper. He has
worked effectively in a quiet way, although not as a public speaker. He
is self-made, and well read on the subject of the reforms of the day.
Having been highly successful in his business, he is now at the age of
seventy, in possession of a handsome fortune; the reward of long years
of assiduous labor. He is also cashier of the Freedman's Bank, in
Philadelphia. For the last few years he has resided at New Brunswick,
New Jersey, although his property and business confine him mainly to his
native State, Pennsylvania.
Owing to a late affliction in his family, compelling him to devote the
most of his time thereto, it has been impossible to obtain from him the
material for completing such a sketch as was desired. Prior to this
affliction, in answer to our request, he furnished some reminiscences of
his labors as conductor of the Underground Rail Road, and at the same
time, promised other facts relative to his life, but for the reason
assigned, they were not worked up, which is to be regretted.
NEW BRUNSWICK, N.J., December 4, 1871.
MR. WILLIAM STILL, DEAR SIR:--I sincerely regret the absence of
statistics that would enable me to furnish you with many events,
that would assist you in describing the operations of the
Underground Rail Road. I never kept any record of those persons
passing through my hands, nor did I ever anticipate that the
history of that perilous period would ever be written. I can
only refer to the part I took in it from memory, and if I could
delineate the actual facts as they occurred they would savor so
much of egotism that I should feel ashamed to make them public.
I willingly refer to a few incidents which you may select and
use as you may think proper.
You are perfectly cognizant of the fact, that after the decision
in York, Pa., of the celebrated Prigg case, Pennsylvania was
regarded as free territory, which Canada afterwards proved to
be, and that the Susquehanna river was the recognized northern
boundary of the slave-holding empire. The borough of Columbia,
situated on its eastern bank, in the county of Lancaster, was
the great depot where the fugitives from Virginia and Maryland
first landed. The long bridge connecting Wrightsville with
Columbia, was the only safe outlet by which they could
successfully escape their pursuers. When they had crossed this
bridge they could look back over its broad silvery stream on its
western shore, and say to the slave power: "Thus far shalt thou
come, and no farther." Previous to that period, the line of
fugitive travel was from Baltimore, by the way of Havre de Grace
to Philadelphia; but the difficulty of a safe passage across the
river, at that place caused the route to be changed to York,
Pa., a distance of fifty-eight miles, the fare being forty
dollars, and thence to Columbia, in the dead hour of the night.
My house was at the end of the bridge, and as I kept the
station, I was frequently called up in the night to take charge
of the passengers.
On their arrival they were generally hungry and penniless. I
have received hundreds in this condition; fed and sheltered from
one to seventeen at a time in a single night. At this point the
road forked; some I sent west by boats, to Pittsburgh, and
others to you in our cars to Philadelphia, and the incidents of
their trials form a portion of the history you have compiled. In
a period of three years from 1847 to 1850, I passed hundreds to
the land of freedom, while others, induced by high wages, and
the feeling that they were safe in Columbia, worked in the
lumber and coal yards of that place. I always persuaded them to
go to Canada, as I had no faith in their being able to elude the
grasp of the slave-hunters. Indeed, the merchants had the
confidence of their security and desired them to remain; several
of my friends told me that I was injuring the trade of the place
by persuading the laborers to leave. Indeed, many of the
fugitives themselves looked upon me with jealousy, and expressed
their indignation at my efforts to have them removed from peace
and plenty to a land that was cold and barren, to starve to
death.
It was a period of great prosperity in our borough, and
everything passed on favorably and successfully until the
passage of the fugitive slave bill in 1850. At first the law was
derided and condemned by our liberty-loving citizens, and the
fugitives did not fear its operations because they asserted that
they could protect themselves. This fatal dream was of short
duration. A prominent man, by the name of Baker, was arrested
and taken to Philadelphia, and given up by the commissioner, and
afterwards purchased by our citizens; another, by the name of
Smith, was shot dead in one of our lumber yards, because he
refused to surrender, and his pursuer permitted to escape
without arrest or trial. This produced not only a shock, but a
crisis in the affairs of our little borough. It made the
stoutest hearts quail before the unjust sovereignty of the law.
The white citizens fearing the danger of a successful resistance
to the majesty of the law, began to talk of the insecurity of
these exiles. The fugitives themselves, whose faith and hope had
been buoyed up by the promises held up to them of protection,
began to be apprehensive of danger, and talked of leaving, while
others, more bold, were ready to set the dangers that surrounded
them at defiance, and if necessary, die in the defence of their
freedom and the homes they had acquired.
At this juncture private meetings were held by the colored
people, and the discussions and resolves bore a peculiar
resemblance in sentiment and expression to the patriotic
outbursts of the American revolution.
Some were in favor, if again attacked, of killing and slaying
all within their reach; of setting their own houses on fire, and
then going and burning the town. It was the old spirit which
animated the Russians at Moscow, and the blacks of Hayti. At
this point my self-interest mingled with my sense of humanity,
and I felt that I occupied a more responsible position than I
shall ever attain to again. I, therefore, determined to make the
most of it. I exhorted them to peace and patience under their
present difficulties, and for their own sakes as well as the
innocent sufferers, besought them to leave as early as they
could. If I had advocated a different course I could have caused
the burning of the town. The result of our meeting produced a
calm, that lasted only for a few days, when it was announced,
one evening, that the claimants of a Methodist preacher, by the
name of Dorsey, were in the borough, and that it was expected
that they would attempt to take him that night.
It was about nine o'clock in the evening when I went to his
house, but was refused admittance, until those inside
ascertained who I was. There were several men in the house all
armed with deadly weapons, awaiting the approach of the
intruders. Had they come the whole party would have been
massacred. I advised Dorsey to leave, but he very pointedly
refused, saying he had been taken up once before alive, but
never would be again. The men told him to stand his ground, and
they would stand by him and defend him, they had lived together,
and would die together. I told them that they knew the strength
of the pro-slavery feeling that surrounded them, and that they
would be overpowered, and perhaps many lives lost, which might
be saved by his changing his place of residence. He said, he had
no money, and would rather die with his family, than be killed
on the road. I said, how much money do you want to start with,
and we will send you more if you need it. Here is one hundred
dollars in gold. "That is not enough." "Will two hundred dollars
do?" "Yes." I shall bring it to you to-morrow. I got the money
the next morning, and when I came with it, he said, he could not
leave unless his family was taken care of. I told him I would
furnish his family with provisions for the next six months. Then
he said he had two small houses, worth four hundred and
seventy-five dollars. My reply was that I will sell them for
you, and give the money to your family. He then gave me a power
of attorney to do so, and attended to all his affairs. He left
the next day, being the Sabbath, and has never returned since,
although he has lived in the City of Boston ever since, except
about six months in Canada.
I wish to notice this case a little further, as the only one out
of many to which I will refer. About the year 1831 or 1832, Mr.
Joseph Purvis, a younger brother of Robert Purvis, about
nineteen or twenty years of age, was visiting Mr. Stephen Smith,
of Columbia, and while there the claimants of Dorsey came and
secured him, and had proceeded about two miles with him on the
way to Lancaster. Young Purvis heard of it, and his natural and
instinctive love of freedom fired up his warm southern blood at
the very recital. He was one of nature's noblemen. Fierce,
fiery, and impulsive, he was as quick to decide as to perform.
He demanded an immediate rescue. Though he was advised of the
danger of such an attempt, his spirit and determination made him
invincible. He proceeded to a place where some colored men were
working. With a firm and determined look, and a herculean shout,
he called out to them, "To arms, to arms! boys, we must rescue
this man; I shall lead if you will follow." "We will," was the
immediate response. And they went and overtook them, and
dispersed his claimants. They brought Dorsey back in triumph to
Columbia.
He then gave Dorsey his pistol, with the injunction that he
should use it and die in defence of his liberty rather than
again be taken into bondage. He promised he would. I found him
with this pistol on his table, the night I called on him, and I
have every reason to believe that the promise gave to Mr. Purvis
was one of the chief causes of his obstinacy. The lesson he had
taught him had not only become incorporated in his nature, but
had become a part of his religion.
The history of this brave and noble effort of young Purvis, in
rescuing a fellow-being from the jaws of Slavery has been handed
down, in Columbia, to a generation that was born since that
event has transpired. He always exhibited the same devotion and
manly daring in the cause of the flying bondman that inspired
his youthful ardor in behalf of freedom. The youngest of a
family distinguished for their devotion to freedom, he was
without superiors in the trying hour of battle. Like John Brown,
he often discarded theories, but was eminently practical. He has