Lewis Tappan

The “Vigilance Committee,” for aiding and befriending fugitives, of which I was treasurer for many years, had no better or warmer friend than he. He was almost always at their meetings, which were known only to “the elect,” for we dared not hold them too publicly, as we almost always had some of the travelers toward the “north star” present, whose masters or their agents were frequently in the city, in hot pursuit. At first, we sent them to Canada, but after a while, sent them only to Syracuse, and the centre of the State.

In 1834, I think, was the first rioting, the sacking of Mr. Tappan’s house, in Rose Street. The mob brought all his furniture out, and piling it up in the street, set it on fire. The family were absent at the time. Soon after, they stoned Rev. Mr. Ludlow’s, and Dr. Cox’s church, and the house of the latter. They threatened Arthur Tappan & Co’s, store, in Pearl Street, but hearing that there were a few loaded muskets there, they took it out in threats. But their mercantile establishment was almost ostracised at this time, by the dry goods merchants; and country merchants in all parts of the country, north as well as south, did not dare to have it known that they bought goods of them; and when they did so, requested particularly, that the bundles or boxes, should not be marked “from A. Tappan & Co.,” as was customary. Southern merchants especially, avoided them, and when, two or three years later, there was a general insolvency among them, occasionally large losses to New York merchants, and in some cases failure; the Tappans were saved by having no Southern debts!

Through Mr. Tappan’s influence and extensive correspondence abroad, many remittances came for the help of the “Vigilance Committee,” from England and Scotland, and at one time, an extensive invoice of useful and fancy articles, in several large boxes, was received from the Glasgow ladies, sufficient to furnish a large bazaar or fair, which was held in Brooklyn, for the benefit of the Committee.

Although lately afflicted by disease, Mr. Tappan still lives in the enjoyment of all his faculties, and a good measure of health, and in his advanced years, sees now some of the great results of his life-long efforts for the restoration and maintenance of human rights.

Although still suffering under many of the evils which Slavery has inflicted upon him, the American slave no longer exists! Instead stands up in all our Southern States the freedman, knowing his rights, and, as a rule, enjoying them. Original American abolitionists, who met the scorn and odium, the imputed shame and obloquy, the frowns and cold-shoulders which they bore through all the dark days of Slavery, now see and feel their reward in some measure; to be completed only, when they shall hear the plaudit: “Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

ANTHONY LANE.

New York, Nov. 8, 1871.

Mr. Lane, Mr. Tappan’s personal friend who labored with him in the Anti-Slavery Cause, and especially in the Vigilance Committee for many years, from serious affection of his eyes was not prepared to furnish as full a sketch of his (Mr. T.’s) labors as was desirable. Mr. Tappan was, therefore, requested to furnish a few reminiscences from his own store-house, which he kindly did as follows:

WILLIAM STILL, ESQ., My dear Sir:—In answer to your request, that I would furnish, an article for your forthcoming book, giving incidents within my personal knowledge, relating to the Underground Rail Road; I have already apprized you of my illness and my consequent inability to write such an article as would be worthy of your publication. However, feeling somewhat relieved to-day, from my paralysis, owing to the cheering sunshine and the favor of my Almighty Preserver, I will try to do what I can, in dictating a few anecdotes to my amanuensis, which may afford you and your readers some gratification.

These facts I must give without reference to date, as I will not tax my memory with perhaps a vain attempt to narrate them in order.

As mentioned in my “Life of Arthur Tappan,” some abolitionists (myself among the number), doubted the propriety of engaging in such measures as were contemplated by the conductors of the “Underground Rail Road,” fearing that they would not be justified in aiding slaves to escape from their masters; but reflection convinced them that it was not only right to assist men in efforts to obtain their liberty, when unjustly held in bondage, but a DUTY.

Abolitionists, white and colored, both in slave and free States, entered into extensive correspondence, set their wits at work to devise various expedients for the relief from bondage and transmission to the free States and to Canada, of many of the most enterprising bondmen and bondwomen. They vied with each other in devising means for the accomplishment of this object. Those who had money contributed it freely, and those who were destitute of money, gave their time, saying with the Apostle: “Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have, give I thee.”

1. I recollect that one morning on reaching my office (that of the treasurer of the American Missionary Association), my assistant told me that in the inner room were eighteen fugitives, men, women and children, who had arrived that morning from the South in one company. On going into the room, I saw them lying about on the bales and boxes of clothing destined for our various missionary stations, fatigued, as they doubtless were, after their sleepless and protracted struggle for freedom.

On inquiry, I learned that they had come from a southern city. After most extraordinary efforts, it seemed that they had while in Slavery, secretly banded together, and put themselves under the guidance of an intrepid conductor, whom they had hired to conduct them without the limits of the city, in the evening, when the police force was changed. They came through Pennsylvania and New Jersey to my office. The agent of the Underground Rail Road in New York, took charge of them, and forwarded them to Albany, and by different agencies to Canada.

2. I well remember that one morning as I entered the Sabbath-school,^[1] one of the scholars, a Mrs. Mercy Smith, beckoned to me to come to her class, and there introduced to me a young girl of about fifteen, as a fugitive, who had arrived the day before. In answer to my inquiries, this girl told me the name of the southern city, and the names of the persons who had held her as a slave, and the mode of her escape, etc. “I was walking near the water,” she said, “when a white sailor spoke to me, and after a few questions, offered to hide me on board his vessel and conduct me safely to New York, if I would come to him in the evening. I did so, and was hid and fed by him, and on landing at New York, he conducted me to Mrs. Smith’s house, where I am now staying.”

To my inquiry, have you parents living, and also brothers and sisters, she replied: “There is no child but myself.” “Were not your parents kind to you, and did you not love them?” “Yes I love them very much.”

“How were you treated by your master and mistress?” “They treated me very well.” “How then,” said I, “could you put yourself in the care of that sailor, who was a stranger to you, and leave your parents?” I shall never forget her heart-felt reply: “He told me I should be free!”

One Sunday morning, I received a letter, informing me that an officer belonging to Savannah, Ga., had started for New York, in pursuit of two young men, of nineteen or twenty, who had been slaves of one of the principal physicians of the place, and who had escaped and were supposed to be in New York. The letter requested me to find them and give them warning. As there was no time to be lost, I concluded to go over to New York, notwithstanding the doubtfulness of attempting to find them in so large a city. I wrote notices to be read in the colored churches and colored Sabbath-schools, which I delivered in person. I then went to the colored school, superintended by Rev. C.B. Bay. I stated my errand to him, with a description of the young men. “Why,” said he, “I must have one of them in my school.” He took me to a class where I found one of the young men, to whom I gave the needful information.

He told me that his father was Dr. —— of Savannah, and that he had five children by the young man’s mother, who was his slave. On his marriage to a white woman, he sent his five colored children and their mother to auction, to be sold for cash to the highest bidder. On being put upon the auction-block, this young man addressed the bystanders, and told them the circumstances of the case; that his mother had long lived in the family of the doctor, that it was cruel to sell her and her children, and he warned the people not to bid for him, for he would no longer be a slave to any man, and if any one bought him, he would lose his money. He added, “I thought it right to say this.” I then spoke to the crowd. “My father,” said I, “has long been one of your first doctors, and do you think it right for him to sell my mother and his children in this way?”

“I was sold, and my brother also, and the rest, although my brother said to the crowd what I had said. We soon made our escape, and are now both in the city. I am a blacksmith, and have worked six months in one shop, in New York, with white journeymen, not one of whom believes, I suppose, that I am a colored man.”

It was not surprising, for so fair was his complexion, that with the aid of a brown wig, after he had cut off his hair, he was completely disguised. He soon notified his brother, who lived in another part of the city, and both put themselves out of harm’s way. They were remarkably fine young men, and it seemed a special Providence that I should find them in such a large city, and direct them to escape from their pursuer, within one hour after I left my house in Brooklyn. I felt it to be an answer to prayer.

4. One day, when I lived in New York City, a colored man came running to my house, and in a hurried manner, said: “Is this Mr. Tappan?” On replying in the affirmative, he said: “I have driven my master from Baltimore. He has just arrived, and the servants are taking off the baggage at the Astor House. I inquired of a person passing by, where you lived. He said, 80, White Street, and I have run here, to tell you that you may give notice to a man who has escaped from my master, to this city, that the object of this journey is to find him and take him back to Slavery.”

The man hurried back, so that he need not be missed by his master, who believed that this coachman, who had lived years with him, was his confidential servant, and would be true to his interest.

I went immediately to the house of a colored friend, to describe the fugitive and see if we could not concert measures to protect him. “I think,” said he, “that I know the man, by your description, and that he boards in this house. He will soon come in from South Street, where he has worked to-day.” While we were consulting together, sure enough, the man came in, and was most glad to have the opportunity thus afforded, of secreting himself.

I have not strength to dictate much more, although many other instances occur to me of most remarkable providential occurrences, of the escape of fugitives within my knowledge. I used to say that I was the owner of half-a-horse that was in active service, near the Susquehanna River. This horse I owned jointly with another friend of the slave, dedicating the animal to the service of the Underground Rail Road.

It was customary for the agent at Havre de Grace, bringing a fugitive to the river, to kindle a fire (as it was generally in the night), to give notice to a person living on the opposite side of the river. This person well understood the signal, and would come across in his boat and receive the fugitive.

An aged colored couple, residing in Brooklyn, came over to my office, in New York City, and said that they had just heard from Wilmington, N.C., that their two sons (about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age), who were slaves, were about to be sold, for one thousand dollars each; and they hoped I should be able and willing to assist them in raising the money.

I told them that I had scruples about putting money into the hands of slave-holders, but I would give them something that might be of as much value. I then pointed out a way by which their sons might reach the city.

In about three weeks, one of the young men came to my office. Give me, said I, some particulars of your escape. “I am,” said he, “a builder, and planned and erected the hotel at Wilmington, and some other houses. I used to hire my time of my master, and was accustomed to ride about the country attending to my business. I borrowed a pass from a man about my size and complexion. I then went to the rail road office, and asked for a ticket for Fredericksburg. From there I came on directly to Washington. I had not been questioned before; but here, I was taken up and carried before a magistrate. He examined me by the description in my pass; complexion, height, etc., then read ‘and a scar under his left knee.’ When I heard that, my heart sank within me; for I had no scar there that I knew. ‘Pull up the boy’s trowsers,’ said the justice to the constable. He did so. and said ‘here’s a scar!’ ‘All right,’ said the justice, ‘no mistake, let him go.’ Glad was I. I got a ticket for Baltimore, and there for another town, and finally reached here.”

You asked me to give an account of the sums that I have expended for the Underground Rail Road, etc. I must be excused from doing this, as if I could now ascertain, I should not think it worth while to mention. I must now conclude my narrative, by giving, with some additions, an account of an interesting escape from Slavery, which was written by my wife, more than fifteen years ago, for Frederic Douglass’ paper.

[On page 177 the narrative of “The Fleeing Girl of Fifteen” is so fully written out, that it precludes the necessity of reproducing a large portion of this story.]

In the evening a friend arrived, bringing with him a bright, handsome boy, whom he called Joe. Most heartily was “Joe” welcomed, and deep was the thrill which we felt, as we looked upon him and thought of the perils he had escaped. The next day was Thanksgiving-day, and my house was thronged with guests. In an upper room, with a comfortable fire, and the door locked, sat “Joe,” still in boy’s clothes, to be able to escape at the first intimation of danger, but with a smile and look of touching gratitude, whenever any one of the family who was in the secret, left the festive group to look in upon the interesting stranger. Not one of us can ever forget the deep abhorrence of Slavery, and thanksgiving to Almighty God, that we felt that day as we moved among the guests, who were wholly ignorant of the occupant of that upper room. Some curiosity was indeed excited among the little grandchildren, who saw slices of turkey and plum pudding sent up stairs. It was “Joe’s” first Thanksgiving dinner in a free State.

As she brought nothing away with her, it was necessary, the next day, to procure a complete wardrobe for a girl, which was carefully packed for her to take with her.

The second day after “Joe’s” arrival, the Rev. Mr. Freeman, pastor of a colored church in Brooklyn, agreed to accompany her to her uncle Brown’s in Canada West, and we saw them depart, knowing the danger that would beset both on the way. The following is part of a letter from Mr. F., giving an account of their journey. After stating that they left New York, in the cars at five o’clock, P.M., and through the providence of God, went on their way safely and speedily, with none to molest or to make them afraid, he says:

“On reaching Rochester, I began to ask myself ‘how shall we get over Niagara Falls?’ I was not sure that the cars ran across the Suspension Bridge; besides, I felt that we were in more danger here, than we had been at any other place. Knowing that there was a large reward offered for Joe’s apprehension, I feared there might be some lurking spy ready to pounce upon us. But when we arrived at the Bridge, the conductor said: ‘Sit still; this car goes across.’ You may judge of my joy and relief of mind, when I looked out and was sure that we were over! Thank God, I exclaimed, we are safe in Canada!

Having now a few minutes before the cars would start again, I sat down and hastily wrote a few lines, to inform friends at home of our safe arrival. As soon as possible, I ran to the post-office with my letter, paid the postage, and while I was waiting for my change, the car bell rang. I quickly returned, and in a few minutes, we were on our way to Chatham (200 miles West). That place we reached between seven and eight o’clock, Saturday evening. When we got out, we met a gentleman who asked me if I wanted a boarding-house. I said yes; and he invited me to go with him. I asked him if there was any way for us to get to Dresden that night. He answered, ‘No, it is a dark night, and a muddy road, and no conveyance can be got tonight.’ I soon found that we must stay in Chatham until Monday morning.

On our way to the boarding-house, the gentleman said to me: ‘Is this your son with you?’ I answered, no; and then I asked him, if he knew a man living in D., by the name of Bradley. He replied that he was very well acquainted with him, and then inquired if that young man was Mr. Bradley’s brother. I said, no—not exactly a brother. He must have thought it strange that I did not give him a more definite answer to his question.

When we reached the house, we found several boarders in the sitting-room and a few neighbors. I had already told him my name, but with regard to Joe, I had not yet had a chance to explain. I, of course, was introduced to those who were in the room, but Joe—well, Joe took a seat, and did not seem to be troubled about an introduction. As the landlord was going out of the room, I asked permission to speak with him alone. He took me into another room, and I said to him: ‘That young man, as you call him, is a young woman, and has come dressed in this manner, all the way from Washington City. She would be very glad now to be able to change her clothes.’

He was greatly surprised, and would hardly believe that it was so; but said, ‘I will call my wife.’ She came, and I guess all the women in the house came with her. They soon disappeared, and Joe with them, who, after being absent a while, returned, and was introduced as Miss Ann Maria Weems. The whole company were on their feet, shook hands, laughed, and rejoiced, declaring that this beat all they had ever seen before. Chatham contains, I was told, more than three thousand fugitives. The weather there, is not colder than in New York.

The next morning was the Sabbath, but this I must pass and hasten to D., the residence of Mr. Bradley. We started early Monday morning. As a part of the road was very bad, we did not reach there till a late hour. As we were passing along, and getting near to the place, we met two colored men who were talking together—one on horseback, and the other on foot. I inquired of them, if they could tell me how far it was to Mr. Bradley’s. The man on horseback said it was about a mile further, and then proceeded to give directions. After he had done this, he said: ‘I reckon I am the one that you want to find, my name is Bradley.’ Well, I replied, probably you are the man. Just then Ann Maria turned her head around. As soon as he saw her face, he exclaimed: ‘My Lord! Maria, is that you? Is that you? My child, is it you? We never expected to see you again! We had given you up; O, what will your aunt say? It will kill her! She will die! It will kill her.’

I told him, that as I was obliged to leave again soon, I must proceed. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘you go on; I am just going over to M., and will be back in a few minutes.’ We started for his house, and he towards M., but we had only gone a short distance, when he overtook us, exclaiming: ‘I can’t go to M.,’ and began talking to Ann Maria, asking her all about her friends and relatives, whom they had left behind, and about his old master, and his wife’s master, from whom they had run away four years before. As we approached the house, he said: ‘I will go and open the gate, and have a good fire to warm you.’ When he came up to the gate, he met his wife, who was returning from a store or neighbor’s house, and he said to her, ‘That’s Ann Maria coming yonder.’ She stopped until we came to the gate; the tears were rolling from her eyes, and she exclaimed: ‘Ann Maria, is it you?’ The girl leaped from the wagon, and they fell on each other’s necks, weeping and rejoicing. Such a scene I never before witnessed. She, who had been given up as lost, was now found! She, who but a short time before, had been, as they supposed, a slave for life, was now free.

We soon entered the house, and after the first gush of feeling had somewhat subsided, they both began a general inquiry about the friends they had left behind. Every now and then, the aunt would break out: ‘My child, you are here! Thank God, you are free! We were talking about you today, and saying, we shall never see you again; and now here you are with us.’ I remained about an hour and a half with them, took dinner, and then started for home, rejoicing that I had been to a land where colored men are free.

This Mr. Bradley, who ran away with himself and wife about four years ago from the land of whips and chains, is the owner of two farms, and is said to be worth three thousand dollars. Can slaves take care of themselves?”

You may well suppose that the receipt of this letter gave us great pleasure, and called forth heartfelt thanksgiving to Him, who had watched over this undertaking, and protected all concerned in it. A bright and promising girl had been rescued from the untold miseries of a slave woman’s life, and found a good home, where she would have an opportunity to acquire an education and be trained for a useful and happy life. Mr. Bradley intended to send for her parents, and hoped to prevail on them to come and live with him.

Truly yours,

LEWIS TAPPAN