The Underground Railroad
Daniel Gibbons
A life as uneventful as the one whose story we are about to tell, affords little scope for the genius of the biographer or the historian, but being carefully studied, it cannot fail to teach a lesson of devotion and self-sacrifice, which should be learned and remembered by every succeeding age.
Daniel Gibbons, son of James and Deborah (Hoopes) Gibbons, was born on the banks of Mill Creek, in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, on the 21st day of the 12th month (December), 1775. He was descended on his father’s side from an English ancestor, whose name appears on the colonial records, as far back as 1683. John Gibbons evidently came with or before William Penn to this “goodly heritage of freedom.” His earthly remains lie at Concord Friends’ burying-ground, Delaware county, near where the family lived for a generation or two. The grandfather of Daniel Gibbons, who lived near where West Town boarding-school now is, in Chester county, bought for seventy pounds, “one thousand acres of land and allowances,” in what is now Lancaster county, intending, as he ultimately did, to settle his three sons upon it. This purchase was made about the year 1715. In process of time, the eldest son, desiring to marry Deborah Hoopes, the daughter of Daniel Hoopes, of a neighboring township in Chester county, the young people obtained the consent of parents and friends, but it was a time of grief and mourning among young and old. The young Friends assured the intended bride, that they would not marry the best man in the Province and do what she was about to do; and the elder dames, so far relaxed the Puritanic rigidity of their rules, as to allow the invitation of an uncommonly large company of guests to the wedding, in order that a long and perhaps last farewell, might be said to the beloved daughter, who, with her husband, was about to emigrate to the “far West.” Loud and long were the lamentations, and warm the embraces of these simple-minded Christian rustics, companions of toil and deprivation, as they parted from two of their number who were to leave their circle for the West; the West being then thirty-six miles distant. This was on the sixth day of the fifth month, 1756. More than a century has passed away; all the good people, eighty-nine in number, who signed the wedding certificate as witnesses, have passed away, and how vast is the change wrought in our midst since that day!
Joseph Gibbons was so much pleased with the daring enterprise of his son and daughter-in-law, that he gave them one hundred acres of land in his Western possessions more than he reserved for his other and younger sons, and to it they immediately emigrated, and building first a cabin and the next year a store-house, began life for themselves in earnest.
It is interesting, in view of the long and consistent anti-slavery course which Daniel Gibbons pursued, to trace the influence that wrought upon him while his character was maturing, and the causes which led him to see the wickedness of the system which he opposed.
The Society of Friends in that day bore in mind the advice of their great founder, Fox, whose last words were: “Friends, mind the light.” And following that guide which leads out of all evil and into all good, they viewed every custom of society with eyes undimmed by prejudice, and were influenced in every action of life by a belief in the common brotherhood of man, and a resolve to obey the command of Jesus, to love one another. This being the case, slavery and oppression of all kinds were unpopular, and indeed almost unknown amongst them.
James Gibbons was a republican, and an enthusiastic advocate of American liberty. Being a man of commanding presence, and great energy and determination, efforts were made during the Revolution to induce him to enlist as a cavalry soldier. He was prevented from so doing by the entreaties of his wife, and his own conscientious scruples as a Friend. About the time of the Revolution, or immediately after, he removed to the borough of Wilmington, Delaware, where, being surrounded by slavery, he became more than ever alive to its iniquities. He was interested during his whole life in getting slaves off. And being elected second burgess of Wilmington during his residence there, his official position gave him great opportunities to assist in this noble work. It is related that during his magistracy a slave-holder brought a colored man before him, whom he claimed as his slave. There being no evidence of the alleged ownership, the colored man was set at liberty. The pretended owner was inclined to be impudent; but James Gibbons told him promptly that nothing but silence and good behaviour on his part would prevent his commitment for contempt of court.
About the year 1790, James Gibbons came back to Lancaster county, where he spent twenty years in the practice of those deeds which will remain “in everlasting remembrance;” dying, full of years and honors, in 1810.
Born in the first year of the revolution and growing up surrounded by such influences, Daniel Gibbons could not have been other than he was, the friend of the down-trodden and oppressed of every nationality and color. In 1789 his father took him to see General Washington, then passing through Wilmington. To the end of his life he retained a vivid recollection of this visit, and would recount its incidents to his family and friends. During his father’s residence in Wilmington, he spent his summers with kinsmen in Lancaster county, learning to be a farmer, and his winters in Wilmington going to school.
At the age of fourteen years he was bound an apprentice, as was the good custom of the day, to a Friend in Lancaster county to learn the tanning business. At this he served about six years, or until his master ceased to follow the business. During this apprenticeship he became accustomed to severe labor, so severe indeed that he never recovered from the effects thereof, having a difficulty in walking during the remainder of his life, which prevented him from taking the active part in Underground Rail Road business which he otherwise would have done. His father’s estate being involved in litigation caused him to be put to this trade, farming being his favorite employment, and one which he followed during his whole life.
In 1805 he took a pedestrian tour, by way of New York, Albany, and Niagara Falls to the State of Ohio, then the far West, coming home by way of Pittsburg, and walking altogether one thousand three hundred and fifty miles. In this trip he increased the injury to his feet, so as to render himself virtually a cripple. Upon the death of his father, he settled upon the farm, on which he died.
About the year 1808 on going to visit some friends, who had removed to Adams county, Pennsylvania, he became acquainted with Hannah Wierman, whom he married on the fourth day of the fifth month, 1815. At this time Daniel Gibbous was about forty years old, and his wife about twenty-eight, she having been born on the ninth of the seventh month, 1787. A life of one after their union, would be incomplete without some notice of the other.
During a married life of thirty-seven years, Hannah Gibbons was the assistant of her husband in every good and noble work. Possessed of a warm heart, a powerful, though uncultivated intellect, an excellent judgment, and great sweetness of disposition, she was fitted both by nature and training to endure without murmuring the inconvenience and trouble incident to the reception and care of fugitives and to rejoice that to her was given the opportunity of assisting them in their efforts to be free.
The true measure of greatness in a human soul, is its willingness to suffer for its own good, or the good of its fellows, its self-sacrificing spirit. Granting the truth of this, one of the greatest souls was that of Hannah W. Gibbons. The following incident is a proof of this:
In 1836, when she was no longer a young woman, there came to her home, one of the poorest, most ignorant, and filthiest of mankind—a slave from the great valley of Virginia. He was foot-sore and weary, and could not tell how he came, or who directed him. He seemed indeed, a missive directed and sent by the hand of the Almighty. Before he could be cleansed or recruited, he was taken sick, and before he could be removed (even if he could have been trusted at the county poor house), his case was pronounced to be small-pox. For six long weeks did this good angel in human form, attend upon this unfortunate object. Reasons were found why no one else could do it, and with her own hands, she ministered to his wants, until he was restored to health. Such was her life. This is merely one case. She was always ready to do her duty. Her interest in good, never left her, for when almost dying, she aroused from her lethargy and asked if Abraham Lincoln was elected president of the United States, which he was a few days afterwards. She always predicted a civil war, in the settlement of the Slavery question.
During the last twenty-five years of her life she was an elder in the Society of Friends, of which she had always been an earnest, consistent, and devoted member. Her patience, self-denial, and warm affection were manifested in every relation of life. As a daughter, wife, mother, friend, and mistress of a family she was beloved by all, and to her relatives and friends who are left behind, the remembrance of her good deeds comes wafted like a perfume from beyond the golden gates. She survived her husband about eight years, dying on the sixteenth of the tenth month, 1860. Three children, sons, were born to their marriage, two of whom died in infancy and one still (1871) survives.
To give some idea of the course pursued by Daniel and Hannah Gibbons, I insert the following letter, containing an account of events which took place in 1821:
“A short time since, I learned that my old friend, William Still, was about to publish a history of the Underground Rail Road. His own experience in the service of this road would make a large volume. I was brought up by Daniel Gibbons, and am asked to say what I know of him as an abolitionist. From my earliest recollection, he was a friend to the colored people, and often hired them and paid them liberal wages. His house was a depot for fugitives, and many hundreds has he helped on their way to freedom. Many a dark night he has sent me to carry them victuals and change their places of refuge, and take them to other people’s barns, when not safe for him to go. I have known him start in the night and go fifty miles with them, when they were very hotly pursued. One man and his wife lived with him for a long time. Afterwards the man lived with Thornton Walton. The man was hauling lumber from Columbia. He was taken from his team in Lancaster, and lodged in Baltimore jail. Daniel Gibbons went to Baltimore, visited the jail and tried hard to get him released, but failed. I would add here, that Daniel Gibbons’ faithful wife, one of the best women I ever knew, was always ready, day or night, to do all she possibly could, to help the poor fugitives on their way to freedom. Many interesting incidents occurred at the home of my uncle. I will relate one. He had living with him at one time, two colored men, Thomas Colbert and John Stewart. The latter was from Maryland; John often said he would go back and get his wife. My uncle asked him if he was not afraid of his master’s catching him. He said no, for his master knew if he undertook to take him, he would kill him. He did go and brought his wife to my uncle’s.
While these two large men, Tom and John, were there, along came Robert (other name unknown), in a bad plight, his feet bleeding. Robert was put in the barn to thrash, until he could be fixed up to go again on his journey. But in a few days, behold, along came his master. He brought with him that notorious constable, Haines, from Lancaster, and one other man. They came suddenly upon Robert; as soon as he saw them he ran and jumped out of the “overshoot,” some ten feet down. In jumping, he put one knee out of joint. The men ran around the barn and seized him. By this time, the two colored men, Tom and John, came, together with my uncle and aunt. Poor Robert owned his master, but John told them they should not take him away, and was going at them with a club. One of the men drew a pistol to shoot John, but uncle told him he had better not shoot him; this was not a slave State. Inasmuch as Robert had owned his master, Uncle told John he must submit, so they put Robert on a horse, and started with him. After they were gone John said: “Mr. Gibbons, just say the word, and I will bring Robert back.” Aunt said: “Go, John, go!” So John ran to Joseph Rakestraw’s and got a gun (without any lock), and ran across the fields, with Tom after him, and headed the party. The men all ran except Haines, who kept Robert between himself and John, so that John should not shoot him. But John called out to Robert to drop off that horse, or he would shoot him. This Robert did, and John and Tom brought him back in triumph. My aunt said: “John, thee is a good fellow, thee has done well.” Robert was taken to Jesse Gilbert’s barn, and Dr. Dingee fixed his knee. As soon as he was able to travel, he took a “bee-line” for the North star.
My life with my uncle and aunt made me an abolitionist. I left them in the winter of 1824, and came to Salem, Ohio, where I kept a small station on the Underground Rail Road, until the United States government took my work away. I have helped over two hundred fugitives on their way to Canada.
Respectfully,
DANIEL BONSALL,
Salem, Columbiana county, Ohio.”
One day, in the winter of 1822, Thomas Johnson, a colored man, living with Daniel Gibbons, went out early in the morning, to set traps for muskrats. While he was gone, a slave-holder came to the house and inquired for his slave. Daniel Gibbons said: “There is no slave here of that name.” The man replied: “I know he is here. The man we’re after, is a miserable, worthless, thieving scoundrel.” “Oh! very well, then,” said the good Quaker, “if that’s the kind of man thee’s after, then I know he is not here. We have a colored man here, but he is not that kind of a man.” The slaveholder waited awhile, the man not making his appearance, then said: “Well, now, Mr. Gibbons, when you see that man next, tell him that we were here, and if he will come home, we will take good care of him, and be kind to him.” “Very well,” said Daniel, “I will tell him what thee says, but say to him at the same time, that he is a very great fool, if he does as thee requests.” The colored man sought, having caught sight of the slaveholders, and knowing who they were, went off that night, under Daniel Gibbons’ directions, and was never seen by his master again. Afterward, Daniel and his nephew, William Gibbons, went with this man to Adams county. With his master came the master of Mary, a girl with straight hair, and nearly white, who lived with Daniel Gibbons and his wife. Poor Mary was unfortunate. Her master caught her, and took her back with him into Slavery. She and a little girl, who was taken away about the year 1830, were the only ones ever taken back from the house of Daniel Gibbons.
Between the time of his marriage, when he began to keep a depot on the Underground Rail Road, and the year 1824, he passed more than one hundred slaves through to Canada, and between the latter time and his death, eight hundred more, making, in all nine hundred aided by him. He was ever willing to sacrifice his own personal comfort and convenience, in order to assist fugitives. In 1833, when on his way to the West, in a carriage, with his friend, Thomas Peart, also a most faithful friend of the colored man and interested in Underground Rail Road affairs, he found a fugitive slave, a woman, in Adams county, who was in immediate danger. He stopped his journey, and sent his horse and wagon back to his own home with the woman, that being the only safe way of getting her off. This was but a sample of his self-denial, in the cause of human freedom.
His want of ability to guide in person runaway slaves, or to travel with them, prevented him from taking active part in the wonderful adventures and hair-breadth escapes which his brain and tact rendered possible and successful. It is believed that no slave was ever recaptured that followed his directions. Sometimes the abolitionists were much annoyed by impostors, who pretended to be runaways, in order to discover their plans, and betray them to the slave-holders. Daniel Gibbons was possessed of much acuteness in detecting these people, but having detected them, he never treated them harshly or unkindly.
Almost from infancy, he was distinguished for the gravity of his deportment, and his utter heedlessness of small things. The writer has heard men preach the doctrine of the trifling value of the things of a present time, and of the tremendous importance of those of a never-ending eternity, but Daniel Gibbons is the only person she ever knew, who lived that doctrine. He believed in plainness of apparel as taught by Friends, not as a form or a rule of society, but as a principle; often quoting from some one who said that “the adornment of a vain and foolish world, would feed a starving one.” He opposed extravagant fashions and all luxury of habit and life, as calculated to produce effeminacy and degrading sensuality, and as a bestowal of idolatrous attention upon that body which he would often say “was here but for a short time.”
Looking only upon that as religion, which made men love each other and do good to each other in this world, he was little of a stickler for points of belief, and even when he did look into theological matters or denounce a man’s religious opinions, it was generally because they were calculated to darken the mind and be entertained as a substitute for good works. Pursuing the even tenor of his way, he could as easily lead the flying fugitive slave by night out of the way of his powerful master, as one differently constituted could bestow his wealth upon the most popular charity in the land.
His faith was of the simplest kind—the Parable of the prodigal son, contains his creed. Discarding what are commonly called “plans of salvation,” he believed in the light “which lighteth every man that cometh into the world,” and that if people would follow this light, they would thus seek “the kingdom of Heaven and its righteousness and all other things needful would be added thereunto.” He was a devoted member of the Society of Friends, in which he held the position of elder, during the last twenty-five years of his life. That peculiar doctrine of the Society, which repudiates systematic divinity and with it a paid ministry, he held in special reverence, finding confirmation of its truth in the general advocacy of Slavery, by the popular clergy of his day.
When he was quite advanced in years, and the Anti-slavery agitation grew warm, he was solicited to join an anti-slavery society, but on hearing the constitution read, and finding that it repudiated all use of physical force on the part of the oppressed in gaining their liberty, he said that he could not assent to that—that he had long been engaged in getting off slaves, and that he had always advised them to use force, although remonstrating against going to the extent of taking life, and that now he could not recede from that position, and he did not see how they could always be got off without the use of some force.
His faith in an overruling Providence was complete. He believed, even in the darkest days of freedom in our land, in the ultimate extinction of Slavery, and at times, although advanced in years, thought he would live to witness that glorious consummation. It is only in a man’s own family and by his wife and children, that he is really known, and it is by those who best knew, and indeed, who only knew this good man, that his biographer is most anxious that he should be judged. As a parent, he was not excessively indulgent, as a husband, one more nearly a model is rarely found. But his kindness in domestic life, his love for his wife, his son and his grandchildren, and their reciprocal love and affection for him, no words can express.
It was in his father’s household in his youth and in his own household in his mature years, that was fostered that wealth of love and affection, which, extending and widening, took in the whole race, and made him the friend of the oppressed everywhere, and especially of those whom it was a dangerous and unpopular task to befriend.
The tenderness and thoughtfulness of his disposition are well shown in the following incident: Upon one occasion, his son received a kick from a horse, which he was about to mount at the door. When he had recovered from the shock, and it was found that he was not seriously injured, the father still continued to look serious, and did not cease to shed tears. On being asked why he grieved, his answer was: “I was just thinking how it would have been with thee, had that stroke proved fatal.” Such thoughts were at once the notes of his own preparation and a warning to others to be also ready.
A life consistent with his views, was a life of humility and universal benevolence, and such was his. It was a life, as it were in Heaven, while yet on earth, for it soared above and beyond the corrupt and slavish influences of earthly passions.
His interest in temperance never failed him. On his death-bed he would call persons to him, who needed such advice, and admonish them on the subject of using strong drinks, and his last expression of interest in any humanitarian movement, was an avowal of his belief in the great good to arise from a prohibitory liquor law.
To a friend, who entered his sick room, a few days before his death, he said: “Well, E., thee is preparing to go to the West.” The friend replied: “Yes, and Daniel, I suppose thee is preparing to go to eternity.” There was an affirmative reply, and E. inquired, “How does thee find it?” Daniel said: “I don’t find much to do, I find that I have not got a hard master to deal with. Some few things which I have done, I find not entirely right.” He quitted the earthly service of the Master, on the 17th day of the eighth month, 1852.
A young physician, son of one of his old friends, after attending his funeral, wrote to a friend, as follows: “To quote the words of Webster, ‘We turned and paused, and joined our voices with the voices of the air, and bade him hail! and farewell!’ Farewell, kind and brave old man! The voices of the oppressed whom thou hast redeemed, welcome thee to the Eternal City.”