Henry Atkinson

I belonged in Norfolk, Va., from birth until thirty-four years of age. I never saw my owner, but when I was a little boy. I was hired out by the year by an agent of my owner. Sometimes I was well cared for, sometimes not, according to the man’s disposition that employed me. There was one man who was a kind hearted man, who hired me nine years of the time. He treated me well, giving me enough to eat, drink, and wear, and a quarter of a dollar every Saturday night to support my wife. She lived in the city, being a slave: I could not see her when I wished always,—sometimes I was not permitted to see her. The way we were married was, a few words were read out of a book; no license was granted, as to free people. During all these nine years, my mind was continually running upon this,—how am I to get out of this bondage?—for, as well as I was used, I felt that I was under a hard bondage. I studied upon it long. I have lain awake more than half the night, many a time, studying on that one thing—should I ever be able to get clear? But I could not see my way out.

At one time I was hired out to a man whose treatment of me was very bad. Many times I would be sick and could scarcely hold up my head: this man would do nothing for me on the plea that it belonged to the agent to do it,—the agent would say it was not his duty, but my employer’s,—and so I suffered from neglect. If neither of them would help me, I had nowhere to go for relief. He would allow me no money: if I wanted a few cents for myself or my wife I had to work nights to earn them.

I had no chance to learn to read or write. The agent never came near me to see if I were well used or abused by the people who hired me. All I ever saw of him was when the year was up and he came to get his money. Excepting the nine years’ time I have spoken of before, I was put up in the ring and let to the highest bidder,—I was hired out, did the work, and others got the money,—that was mean and hard too.

In regard to religious instruction, I was allowed to go to church on Sunday, to a white clergyman—no colored preacher being allowed in Norfolk. We call some colored men, ministers, but they read nothing from the Bible—they exhort a little sometimes,—but ‘t is n’t preaching. The white clergymen do n’t preach the whole gospel there. Since I have been here, I have heard the passage about the fast that the Lord hath chosen, to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke. I never heard that down South. If a colored man were to say it, he’d have the handcuffs put on quick,—if a white man were to say it, he’d have to leave, because they’d say he was “putting too much into the niggers’ heads.” I’ve seen white children driven away from among the colored, when they said something the old folks did not like, because it was “putting something into the nigger’s head.”

I was a member of the First Baptist church. I heard the white minister preach, and I thought within myself, I will seek a better world above,—here I am in bondage, and if there is a better world above where I shall not be pulled and hauled about and tormented as I am in this, I will seek it.

The person I termed my owner was a woman who removed to England, and lived in London. When I was about twenty years old, I heard of her death, and that she had made a will leaving all her slaves, fifteen in number, free; and that the property and money which had belonged to her, was to be divided amongst us. I was told so by a white person—a lawyer. But she had one son living in Calcutta. He was written to, to find out who were the heirs to these people and this property. He returned word that he had no heirs for the people and property, and that he did not want them,—but that he wished them to do what his mother requested—liberate the slaves, give them the property, and let them go where they pleased. My employer told me and my fellow-servants—all relatives of mine—that we should have our time,—but still we were hired out. He kept feeding us with the tale that we should have our time, and still kept hiring us out. This was done to keep us from running away.

By and by, to blind us, the agent told us that my mistress’ son was dead, and that we had fallen to his nearest relations, Mr. W—, of Philadelphia, and Mr. M—, of Washington: but they were no more his relations than that lamp. Mr. W. and Mr. M. came to Norfolk, and actually divided us as equally as they could. The family consisted of two sisters with seven children each, and an uncle. In the division, I was taken from my mother’s family, and put with my aunt’s, and with them fell to Mr. M. We still remained in Norfolk, but it grieved me so that I knew not what to do to think that I was so robbed. For my mistress, when I was a little boy, sat at the table with me, and she put her hand on my head and said, “My poor little servant, you shall never serve any one after I am dead, but shall have enough to live on the rest of your days.” To remember this, and that she had died and left it in her will as she had said, and then to be cheated out of it, grieved me so, that I knew not how to bear it. I was hired out a short time, but expected every day to be carried up to Washington.

At last, I found an opportunity to escape, after studying upon it a long time. But it went hard to leave my wife; it was like taking my heart’s blood: but I could not help it—I expected to be taken away where I should never see her again, and so I concluded that it would be right to leave her. [Here Atkinson’s eyes filled with tears.] I never expect to see her again in this world—nor our child.

I reached Canada about a year ago. Liberty I find to be sweet indeed.

I think slavery is the worst and meanest thing to be thought of. It appears to me that God cannot receive into the kingdom of heaven, those who deal in slaves. God made all men—He is no respecter of persons—and it is impossible that he should, on account of my color, intend that I should be the slave of a man, because he is of a brighter skin than I am.