Excerpt from "The End of an Era:" A Slave Auction
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Date Published: November 3, 2024
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Headings and sub-headings are the addition of this author for publication on this website. They are intended to aid in the flow and understanding of what was originally written by John S. Wise in his book, "End of an Era," on his attendance of a slave auction in his native Virginia.
Any mistakes in this area are this author's and this author's alone.
Any mistakes in this area are this author's and this author's alone.
Peter E. Greulich, November 2024
Experiencing a Slave Auction from “The End of an Era” by John S. Wise
- Chapter VI: A “Behind the Scenes” Excerpt Describing a Slave Auction
(There are words in this text that have been left unchanged that some readers will find objectionable. They have been left as such as this whole article is of a nature to disturb any person of good conscience—as it did the author, John S. Wise, who wrote this. It is a scene such as this that Abraham Lincoln experienced in New Orleans that turned him against slavery—see sidebar below.)
Understanding the Effect of Seeing A Slave Auction on One Southern Teenager
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We moved cautiously through the dark front of the building, and came at last to the rear, where a small platform occupied the center of the room, and chairs and benches were distributed about the walls. Another large mulatto man appeared to act as usher, standing near a door, through which from time to time he furnished a fresh supply of slaves for sale.
A large man, with full beard, not a bad-looking fellow but for the “ratty” appearance of his quick, cold, small black eyes, acted as auctioneer. A few negroes sat on the bench by the door, they being the first “lot” to be disposed of. The purchasers stood or sat about, smoking or chewing tobacco, while the auctioneer proceeded to read the decree of a chancery court in the settlement of a decedent’s estate, under which this sale was made. The lawyers representing different interests were there, as were also the creditors and others having interests in the sale. Besides these, there were ordinary buyers in need of servants, and slave traders who made a living by buying cheap and selling for a profit. We took seats, and watched and listened intently. After reading the formal announcement authorizing the sale, the auctioneer became eloquent. He proceeded to explain to his auditors that this was: |
John S. Wise pictured at approximately the age when he saw this auction.
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“No ordinary sale of a damaged, no-’count lot of n-----s, where a man buying a n----- might or might not git what he was lookin’ fur, but one of those rare opportunities, which cum only once or twice in a lifetime, when the buyer is sure that fur every dollar he pays he’s gittin’ a full dollar’s worth of real genuine n-----, healthy, well-raised, well-mannered, respectful, obedient, and willing.”
“Why,” said he, “gentlemen, you kin look over this whole gang of n-----s, from the oldest to the youngest, an’ you won’t find the mark of a whip on one of ‘em. Colonel —, for whose estate they is sold, was known to be one of the kindest masters, and at the same time one of the best bringers-up of n-----s, in all Virginia. These here po’ devils is sold for no fault whatever, but simply and only because, owing to the Colonel’s sudden death, his estate is left embarrassed, and it is necessary to sell his n-----s to pay his debts.
“Of these facts I assure you upon the honor of a gentleman.”
Having thus paved the way for good prices, he announced that among the slaves to be offered were good carriage drivers, gardeners, dining-room servants, farm hands, cooks, milkers, seamstresses, washer women, and “the most promising, growing, sleek, and sassy lot of young n-----s he had ever had the pleasure of offering.”
The sale was begun with some “bucks,” as he facetiously called them. They were young, unmarried fellows from eighteen to twenty-five. Ordered to mount the auction block, they stripped to the waist and bounced up, rather amused than otherwise, grinning at the lively bidding they excited. Cautious bidders drew near to them, examined their eyes, spoke with them to test their hearing and manners, made them open their mouths and show their teeth, ran their hands over the muscles of their backs and arms, caused them to draw up their trousers to display their legs, and, after fully satisfying themselves on these and other points, bid for them what they saw fit.
Whenever a sale was concluded, the successful bidder was announced, and the announcement was greeted by the negroes themselves with broad grins, and such expressions as “Thank God,” or “Bless de Lord,” … if it went as they wished or in uncomplaining silence if otherwise. It was surprising to see how thoroughly they all seemed to be informed concerning the men who were bidding for them.
The scenes accompanying the sales of young women were very similar to those with the young men, except that what was said to them and about them was astonishingly plain and shocking.
One was recommended as a “rattlin’ good breeder,” because she had already given birth to two children at seventeen years of age. Another, a mulatto of very comely form, showed deep embarrassment when questioned about her condition.
They brought good prices. Who bought them, where they went, whether they were separated from father, mother, brother, or sister, God knows. Let us hope the result was as humane as possible.
“I am now going to offer you a very likely young child baring woman,” said the auctioneer.
“She is perfectly healthy, and without a blemish. Among the family, she is a universal favorite. I offer her with the privilege of takin’ her husband and two children with her at a very reduced price, because it is the wish of all concerned to keep ‘em together, if possible.
“Get up here, Martha Ann.”
A large-framed, warm, comfortable-looking, motherly soul, with a fine, honest face, mounted the block. “Now, gentlemen,” said he, continuing, “if you cast your eyes into that corner, you will see Israel, Martha Ann’s husband, and Cephas and Melindy, her two children. Israel is not what you may call a real able-bodied man. He broke his leg some years ago handling one of the Curnel’s colts, and he ain’t able to do heavy work; but I am assured by everybody on the place that Israel is a most valuable servant about a house for all kind of light work, and he can be had mighty cheap.”
“Yes, sir,” spoke up Israel eagerly, “I kin do as much ez ennybody; and, masters, if you’ll only buy me and the children with Martha Ann, Gord knows I’ll work myself to death fur you.” The poor little children, Cephas and Melinda, sat there frightened and silent, their white eyes dancing like monkey-eyes, and gleaming in the shadows. As her husband’s voice broke on her ear, Martha Ann, who had been looking sadly out of the window in a pose of quiet dignity, turned her face with an expression of exquisite love and gratitude towards Israel.
She gazed for a moment at her husband and at her children, and then looked away once more, her eyes brimming with tears.
“How much am I offered for Martha Ann?” shouted the auctioneer.
The bidding began. It was very sluggish. The hammer fell at last. The price was low. Perhaps, even in that crowd, nobody wanted them all, and few were willing to do the heartless act of taking her alone. So she sold low.
When the name of her purchaser was announced, I knew him. He was an odd, wizen, cheerless old fellow, who was a member of the Virginia legislature from one of the far-away southside counties adjoining North Carolina. Heaven be praised, he was not a supporter of [my] father, but called himself an old-line Whig, and ranked with the opposition. He seemed to have no associates among the members, and nobody knew where he lived in the city. He was notoriously penurious, and drew his pay as regularly as the week rolled around.
“Mr. —, buys Martha Ann,” said the auctioneer. “I congratulate you, Mr. —. You ‘ve bought the cheapest n----- sold here today.
“Will you take Israel and the young-uns with her?”
Deep silence fell upon the gathering. Even imperturbable Martha Ann showed her anxiety by the heaving of her bosom. Israel strained forward, where he sat, to hear the first word of hope or of despair. The old man who had bid for her shuffled forward, fumbling in his pockets for his money, delaying his reply so long that the question was repeated.
“No-o,” drawled he at last; “no-o, I’m sorry for ‘em, but I really can’t. You see, I live a long way from here, and I ride down to the legislature, and, when I get here, I sell my horse and live cheap, and aims to save up enough from my salary to buy another horse and a ‘ child-barin’ woman’ when the session’s done; and then I takes her home, riding behind me on the horse.
“Thar ain’t no way I could provide for gittin’ the man and the young-uns home, even if they was given to me. I think I’m doin’ pretty well to save enough in a session to buy one n-----, much less a whole family.” And the old beast looked up over his spectacles as he counted his money, and actually chuckled, as if he expected a round of applause for his clever business ability.
A deep groan, unaccompanied by any word of complaint, came from the dark corner where Israel sat. Martha Ann stepped down from the platform, walked to where he was, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and there, hugging her children and rocking herself back and forth, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
My companion and I looked at each other in disgust, but neither spoke a word.
“Why,” said he, “gentlemen, you kin look over this whole gang of n-----s, from the oldest to the youngest, an’ you won’t find the mark of a whip on one of ‘em. Colonel —, for whose estate they is sold, was known to be one of the kindest masters, and at the same time one of the best bringers-up of n-----s, in all Virginia. These here po’ devils is sold for no fault whatever, but simply and only because, owing to the Colonel’s sudden death, his estate is left embarrassed, and it is necessary to sell his n-----s to pay his debts.
“Of these facts I assure you upon the honor of a gentleman.”
Having thus paved the way for good prices, he announced that among the slaves to be offered were good carriage drivers, gardeners, dining-room servants, farm hands, cooks, milkers, seamstresses, washer women, and “the most promising, growing, sleek, and sassy lot of young n-----s he had ever had the pleasure of offering.”
The sale was begun with some “bucks,” as he facetiously called them. They were young, unmarried fellows from eighteen to twenty-five. Ordered to mount the auction block, they stripped to the waist and bounced up, rather amused than otherwise, grinning at the lively bidding they excited. Cautious bidders drew near to them, examined their eyes, spoke with them to test their hearing and manners, made them open their mouths and show their teeth, ran their hands over the muscles of their backs and arms, caused them to draw up their trousers to display their legs, and, after fully satisfying themselves on these and other points, bid for them what they saw fit.
Whenever a sale was concluded, the successful bidder was announced, and the announcement was greeted by the negroes themselves with broad grins, and such expressions as “Thank God,” or “Bless de Lord,” … if it went as they wished or in uncomplaining silence if otherwise. It was surprising to see how thoroughly they all seemed to be informed concerning the men who were bidding for them.
The scenes accompanying the sales of young women were very similar to those with the young men, except that what was said to them and about them was astonishingly plain and shocking.
One was recommended as a “rattlin’ good breeder,” because she had already given birth to two children at seventeen years of age. Another, a mulatto of very comely form, showed deep embarrassment when questioned about her condition.
They brought good prices. Who bought them, where they went, whether they were separated from father, mother, brother, or sister, God knows. Let us hope the result was as humane as possible.
“I am now going to offer you a very likely young child baring woman,” said the auctioneer.
“She is perfectly healthy, and without a blemish. Among the family, she is a universal favorite. I offer her with the privilege of takin’ her husband and two children with her at a very reduced price, because it is the wish of all concerned to keep ‘em together, if possible.
“Get up here, Martha Ann.”
A large-framed, warm, comfortable-looking, motherly soul, with a fine, honest face, mounted the block. “Now, gentlemen,” said he, continuing, “if you cast your eyes into that corner, you will see Israel, Martha Ann’s husband, and Cephas and Melindy, her two children. Israel is not what you may call a real able-bodied man. He broke his leg some years ago handling one of the Curnel’s colts, and he ain’t able to do heavy work; but I am assured by everybody on the place that Israel is a most valuable servant about a house for all kind of light work, and he can be had mighty cheap.”
“Yes, sir,” spoke up Israel eagerly, “I kin do as much ez ennybody; and, masters, if you’ll only buy me and the children with Martha Ann, Gord knows I’ll work myself to death fur you.” The poor little children, Cephas and Melinda, sat there frightened and silent, their white eyes dancing like monkey-eyes, and gleaming in the shadows. As her husband’s voice broke on her ear, Martha Ann, who had been looking sadly out of the window in a pose of quiet dignity, turned her face with an expression of exquisite love and gratitude towards Israel.
She gazed for a moment at her husband and at her children, and then looked away once more, her eyes brimming with tears.
“How much am I offered for Martha Ann?” shouted the auctioneer.
The bidding began. It was very sluggish. The hammer fell at last. The price was low. Perhaps, even in that crowd, nobody wanted them all, and few were willing to do the heartless act of taking her alone. So she sold low.
When the name of her purchaser was announced, I knew him. He was an odd, wizen, cheerless old fellow, who was a member of the Virginia legislature from one of the far-away southside counties adjoining North Carolina. Heaven be praised, he was not a supporter of [my] father, but called himself an old-line Whig, and ranked with the opposition. He seemed to have no associates among the members, and nobody knew where he lived in the city. He was notoriously penurious, and drew his pay as regularly as the week rolled around.
“Mr. —, buys Martha Ann,” said the auctioneer. “I congratulate you, Mr. —. You ‘ve bought the cheapest n----- sold here today.
“Will you take Israel and the young-uns with her?”
Deep silence fell upon the gathering. Even imperturbable Martha Ann showed her anxiety by the heaving of her bosom. Israel strained forward, where he sat, to hear the first word of hope or of despair. The old man who had bid for her shuffled forward, fumbling in his pockets for his money, delaying his reply so long that the question was repeated.
“No-o,” drawled he at last; “no-o, I’m sorry for ‘em, but I really can’t. You see, I live a long way from here, and I ride down to the legislature, and, when I get here, I sell my horse and live cheap, and aims to save up enough from my salary to buy another horse and a ‘ child-barin’ woman’ when the session’s done; and then I takes her home, riding behind me on the horse.
“Thar ain’t no way I could provide for gittin’ the man and the young-uns home, even if they was given to me. I think I’m doin’ pretty well to save enough in a session to buy one n-----, much less a whole family.” And the old beast looked up over his spectacles as he counted his money, and actually chuckled, as if he expected a round of applause for his clever business ability.
A deep groan, unaccompanied by any word of complaint, came from the dark corner where Israel sat. Martha Ann stepped down from the platform, walked to where he was, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and there, hugging her children and rocking herself back and forth, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
My companion and I looked at each other in disgust, but neither spoke a word.
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I was ready to burst into tears.
The old creature who had bought the woman lugged out his hoarded money in sundry packages of coin and paper, and, as he counted it, said: “Martha Ann, cheer up; you’ll find me a good master, and I’ll get you a new husband.” He might well have added, “and the more children you have, the better I’ll like you.” Thank God, the scene did not end there. The silence was oppressive. The worst savage on earth could not have witnessed it without being moved. “Let us go away,” I whispered. At last the suspense was broken. A handsome, manly fellow, one of the lawyers in the case, exclaimed: |
John S. Wise’s and Abraham Lincoln’s reaction to a slave auction are identical. They both recognized the evil they were seeing.
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“By —! I can’t stand this. I knew Colonel — well. I know how he felt towards Israel and Martha Ann and their children. This is enough to make him turn in his grave. I am unable to make this purchase; but sooner than see them separated, I’ll bankrupt myself. Mr. —, I will take Martha Ann off your hands, so as to buy her husband and children, and keep them together.”
“Well, now, you see,” drawled the old fellow, pausing in his work, with trembling hand, “if you feel that way, the time to speak was when the gal was up for sale.” His eye glittered with the thought of turning the situation to advantage. “You see she’s mine now, and I consider her a very desirable and very cheap purchase. Moreover, if you want her, I think you ought to be willin’ to pay me something for the time and trouble I‘ve wasted here a-tryin’ to git her.”
The proposition was sickening, but the old creature was so small himself that his demand of profit was likewise small, and the matter was soon arranged. Whether he remained and bought another “child-barin’ “ woman is unknown to me; for, sick at heart at the sights we had witnessed, we withdrew, and walked slowly back in the glorious sunlight, past the neighboring church, and up to the happy abodes of Virginia’s best civilization, little inclined to talk of the nightmare we had been through.
From that hour, the views of both of us concerning slavery were materially modified. Throughout the day, the horrors we had witnessed came back and back again to me, and I was very, very unhappy.
“Well, now, you see,” drawled the old fellow, pausing in his work, with trembling hand, “if you feel that way, the time to speak was when the gal was up for sale.” His eye glittered with the thought of turning the situation to advantage. “You see she’s mine now, and I consider her a very desirable and very cheap purchase. Moreover, if you want her, I think you ought to be willin’ to pay me something for the time and trouble I‘ve wasted here a-tryin’ to git her.”
The proposition was sickening, but the old creature was so small himself that his demand of profit was likewise small, and the matter was soon arranged. Whether he remained and bought another “child-barin’ “ woman is unknown to me; for, sick at heart at the sights we had witnessed, we withdrew, and walked slowly back in the glorious sunlight, past the neighboring church, and up to the happy abodes of Virginia’s best civilization, little inclined to talk of the nightmare we had been through.
From that hour, the views of both of us concerning slavery were materially modified. Throughout the day, the horrors we had witnessed came back and back again to me, and I was very, very unhappy.
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That night, the experiences of the morning were the subject of a long and anxious and earnest conversation between my father, brother and uncle.
At its close, I felt much relieved and proud of them, and better satisfied, because they all agreed that a system in which things like that were possible was monstrous; and that the question was, not whether slavery should be abolished, and abolished quickly, but as to the manner of slavery’s abolition. But within seven years from that time, my brother and my uncle were both dead--killed in battle on opposite sides, in a struggle resulting from slavery. Father’s fortune and happiness were engulfed in the horrible fraternal strife which grew out of this cancer on the body politic—a cancer which all three of those men were honestly anxious to destroy. |
(There are words in this text that have been left unchanged that some readers will find objectionable. They have been left as such as this whole article is of a nature to disturb any person of good conscience—as it did the author, John S. Wise, who wrote this. It is a scene such as this that Abraham Lincoln experienced in New Orleans that turned him against slavery—see sidebar above.)