Harry Washington’s Escape
Letter from Cato, Freeman’s Journal, 1781
Mr. PRINTER.
I AM a poor negro, who with myself and children have had the good fortune to get my freedom, by means of an act of assembly passed on the first of March 1780, and should now with my family be as happy a set of people as any on the face of the earth, but I am told the assembly are going to pass a law to send us all back to our masters. Why dear Mr. Printer, this would be the cruelest act that ever a sett of worthy good gentlemen could be guilty of. To make a law to hang us all, would be merciful, when compared with this law; for many of our masters would treat us with unheard of barbarity, for daring to take the advantage (as we have done) of the law made in our favor.—Our lots in slavery were hard enough to bear: but having tasted the sweets of freedom, we should now be miserable indeed.—Surely no Christian gentlemen can be so cruel! I cannot believe they will pass such a law.—I have read the act which made me free, and I always read it with joy—and I always dwell with particular pleasure on the following words, spoken by the assembly in the top of the said law. “We esteem it a particular blessing granted to us, that we are enabled this day to add one more step to universal civilization, by removing as much as possible the sorrows of those, who have lived in undeserved bondage, and from which, by the assumed authority of the kings of Great-Britain, no effectual legal relief could be obtained.“ See it was the king of Great- Britain that kept us in slavery before.—Now surely, after saying so, it cannot be possible for them to make slaves of us again—nobody, but the king of England can do it—and I sincerely pray, that he may never have it in his power.—
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It started with a tremor in Josiah’s leg, a tremor that he tried to ignore. Sometimes he had trouble with his legs. At night, he seemed to need to move, to rise from his bed and move, to calm a restless irritation in his legs. His wife was long used to this. Sometimes she propped herself and watched him, and sometimes there was a little light from the window and he saw her dark eyes glittering. She no longer bothered to light the candle, knowing that he did not like this. At the moment, however, Josiah was not abed in the early hours, but on horseback, on his duty as chief overseer of George Washington’s property.
Though, at the moment a prosperous Virginia farmer, Washington’s history as a militia member and soldier had people talking, especially with the tensions brewing, the discontent of the people with the taxes levied upon them, etc. Josiah could not follow it all. He knew one thing, his fortunes were to be linked with those of Mr. Washington, and he must impress him favorably.
Josiah constantly worried about the precariousness of his position. What would he do if he lost his employment? Keep shop? Shoe horses? He had made some sort of contract with General Washington, the terms of which he did not fully understand, but he understood that he was bound to the position of overseer for a period of time at General Washington’s discretion. The employment might be terminated at any time by Mr. Washington. This made him irritable, and he lashed out frequently at the laboring slaves under his care, slinging his whip upon the broad black backs with a wide latitude. He believed he was doing a great favor to General Washington by extracting work from his chattel, and yet apparently one man had been severely injured, and, although he lived, he was not fit for the fields. He was allowed to remain in a cabin on the property, and his family looked after him. Because he was unfit for labor, he received no food from the Mount Vernon kitchen. Josiah saw to that. However, he was aware that the man’s family stole scraps here and there, that the man tended a small garden, and this maintained a fragile hold on his life.
Recently, word of this incident had somehow reached Mr. Washington, currently in Philadelphia, in some kind of diplomatic meeting. Washington had written and submitted him to a humiliating upbraiding for his treatment of the man. Apparently Mr. Washington saw the slave’s injury as a drain on his financial resources. Well, Josiah knew about how he liked his money. Hadn’t he seen him enough times, squinting through his spectacles at his ledger, sucking in his breath and pursing his lips when he spotted any error, any bit of lost coin-a dog lost in the hunt, a blight on the wheat crop?
A new, protracted shiver brought Josiah back to his surroundings. A sip of whiskey might calm the irritation in his limbs, he reckoned. At any rate, it couldn’t hurt. He fished about in his waistcoat pocket for his silver flask, and essayed a small sip.
At first this effort seemed successful, but after the warm flush generated by the liquor subsided, he felt decidedly worse. He felt quite dizzy, so that he found he had some difficulty maintaining an upright posture on his horse. He put the flask back in his pocket and attempted to dismount, but his foot caught in the stirrup, and he fell to the ground. His horse was anxious, and he was in danger from its dancing hooves. He rolled towards the barn. That made his dizziness even worse. He was caught between heaven and Earth, tumbling over, baking in the hot sun like a biscuit in an oven. He panted. His horse paused, watching him curiously with one large, somehow omniscient black eye.
“Harry!” He cried out, then more strongly still. “Harry!” Where was that slave? Always recalcitrant, that one, even after Mr. Washington had been so kind as to restore him to.the position of groom, after the man complained about being hired out for more strenuous manual labor.
There was no response.
Gathering superhuman resources, Josiah stumbled to his feet, and made his way into the barn. There was a small bit of hay in the corner, and he lay down upon it. At least he was out of the incessant, infernal heat.
While he prostrated himself upon his primitive bed, breathing heavily, he heard voices, two people talking. A woman laughed, and began speaking quickly in an excited, perhaps amused manner, but he could not make out what they said. He twisted himself so as to catch a glimpse through the open barn door. He saw the shady lane, the trees, but the horse had moved away, and he did not see any human figures.
“Hey there, Curly!”
This was Harry’s voice. He had seen the horse, called out to it. His voice sounded quite surprised, and a little alarmed.
Josiah breathed a sigh of relief, and made to call out, but found that the power of speech had left him.
“What’s happened?” Said the woman.
“Why, look at Curly with no rider!”
“Mr. Josiah was riding him today,” said Harry. “Not three hours ago I saddled and bridled him myself.”
“What can have happened? Has he escaped, leaving Mr. Josiah in the north pasture, do you think? For isn’t that where he was occupied, superintending those men while they dug the new well?”
“I have no notion of what has befallen the fate of that accursed overseer, but I intend to make use of the opportunity.”
“What!” Gasped the woman.
“Yes, already you grasp my intent. I mean to escape this day, and join with friends in Canada.”
Now Josiah grappled with all his strength. He would surely be blamed for this. Unwittingly providing the horse for Harry’s escape! They would view it as collusion. He might even be hanged! He raised up his elbows, panting heavily. Get to your feet! He told himself. Cry out!
“They will catch you, sure,” whimpered the woman.
“I have long planned this moment, but neglected to apprehend the means by which I might attempt such an adventure. Yet God, with his Providential eye, has clearly executed his divine intentions with such wonderous facility, I shudder at the blindness of my ignorant intellect, so pale and low next to glorious and mysterious understanding of our eternal Shephard and true benevolent Lord.”
Josiah felt nauseous. It was such an elementary and ill conceived notion of Providence that entirely neglected the paradox of free will and sin.
“Will they question me? What shall I say?” The woman mused.
Sally. Her name was Sally. Josiah placed her. She was a freed woman, having bought her freedom from a previous master, employed in the Mount Vernon kitchen some four years.
“Say you know nothing of the matter. I shall send for you, once I am established.”
There were no speeches, such as one might expect. There were no exhortations. There were no further pleas. The time was imminent, one supposed. Josiah heard only the sound of her running steps. He longed for action, but he longed for rest…life was so stupid. He panted, he clawed at the Earth…what was he, but a stupid animal, fallen off his horse, wrestling in the hay like a disease ridden sow. He was dying. He realized it. He could not stop Harry, he could not speak, he would never again leave this barn. Was there anything left? He tried to find what it might be. He felt a tear on his eyelash, ready to fall, quivering, not falling, like the shuddering of the damned before the judgememt of the Almighty. Repentance? Regret?
A cautious trot announced Harry’s departure. Josiah lapsed into unconsciousness.
